Somehow I Suspect That If Shakespeare Were

Billy Strayhorn Was My Right Arm, My Left Arm, All The Eyes In The Back Of My Head, My Brainwaves In His Head, And His In Mine.

The Common Root, Of Course, Comes Out Of Africa. That's The Pulse.the African Pulse. It's All The Way Back From . . . The Old Slave Chants And Up Through The Blues, The Jazz, And Up Through Rock. And It's All Got The African Pulse.

In Music, As You Develop A Theme Or Musical Idea, There Are Many Points At Which Directions Must Be Decided, And At Any Time I Was In The Throes Of Debate With Myself, Harmonically Or Melodically, I Would Turn To Billy Strayhorn. We Would Talk, And Then The Whole World Would Come Into Focus. The Steady Hand Of His Good Judgment Pointed To The Clear Way That Was Fitting For Us. He Was Not, As He Was Often Referred To By Many, My Alter Ego. Billy Strayhorn Was My Right Arm, My Left Arm, All The Eyes In The Back Of My Head, My Brainwaves In His Head, And His In Mine.

If You Have A Great Band With A Mediocre Drummer, You Have A Mediocre Band. If You Have A Mediocre Band With A Great Drummer, You Have A Great Band!

I'm Sure Critics Have Their Purpose, And They're Supposed To Do What They Do, But Sometimes They Get A Little Carried Away With What They Think Someone Should Have Done, Rather Than Concerning Themselves With What He Did.