Tal Rosenberg, Reader digital content editor
Charles Mingus, Oh Yeah At home, I’ve been listening to a lot of Mingus while reading, picking things up off the floor, doing dishes, petting my cat, writing, and waltzing on my own. I don’t really have a “favorite” album when it comes to Mingus, though if forced to pick I’d probably be lame and go with Black Saint and the Sinner Lady. But the record I’ve played most frequently is 1962’s Oh Yeah, where Mingus forgoes double bass entirely in favor of piano. I dig the brassy, sweaty, elegant music, and I admire Mingus’s underrated piano playing—sometimes he hits what seem like off notes, and at other times he glides gracefully on the ivories. He also contributes vocals: grunts, moans, spoken-word snippets, and scratchy singing.
Ehsan Ghoreishi, front man of Bad Mashadi and accordionist for Black Bear Combo
Doug Abram He’s unnecessarily tall, oddly young looking, rugged yet smooth, and the softest-voiced yet loudest saxophone player in town. Doug Abram has stood shoulder to shoulder with President Obama after a gig at the White House, and once lived with a broken wrist for a month without noticing it. He leads Chicago Balkan-punk-party-brass band the Black Bear Combo, in which I sometimes play. Without giving a shit about all the promo, networking, and record-deal games—and without a manager or any representation—Black Bear manages to play the oddest, most exciting gigs in and out of town.
Caetano Veloso, “O Leãozinho” It’s tough to pick favorites from among Caetano Veloso’s vast body of work, but the universality and nostalgic force of “O Leãozinho” are undeniable. Something about the ultrasimple guitar line, the sweet lyrics and vocals, and the slightly out-of-place musical saw in the background transports you to the sort of calm, meditative state that would normally take years of self-denial and yoga to attain.
