Neal Van Duren Memorial Jazz Brunch Recorded Live at Gild Hall, Arden, DelawareAvailable on CDBABY
Personnel |
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Track List
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1. Blue Bossa – Kenny Dorham
2. We'll Get Through This – Julie Rickerman 3. All Blues – Miles Davis 4. Thoreau and Jazz – Scott Davidson 5. On Green Dolphin Street – Bronislau Kaper, Ned Washington 6. Taking a Risk – Joan Van Duren Cseh 7. Blue Monk – Thelonious Monk 8. Bloody Marys, Bookselves & Hot Wax – Joe Dugan 9. Satin Doll – Duke Ellington 10. Too Many Books – Russ McKinney 11. Erma's Shuffle – Burton, Aarons, Klinefelter, Ferracone 12. Steven Helmling's Tribute to Neal – Julie Rickerman 13. Once I Loved – Antonio Carlos Jobim 14. I Can't Believe You Left Me With Neal – Naomi Clark 15. 1107 North Broom Street – Jay Little 16. The Maze – Herbie Hancock 17. Victory Dinners – John Elisens 18. Neal's Letter to President Obama – Richard Burton CreditsRecorded live at Gild Hall, Arden, Delaware, on November 12, 2011. Additional recording, mixing and mastering by Glenn Ferracone at the Music Centre, Exton, PA.
Editing: Richard Burton. Drawings and paintings: Jeff Aarons. Album Design: Danny Schweers. Produced by Richard Burton, Jeff Aarons & Robert Aarons. Special Thanks to Donna Rego, Kemer, Nate Farrar, Naomi Clark, Margie Skhut, Julie Rickerman, Joe Dugan, Jay Little, Steven Helmling, Joan Van Duren Cseh, Russ McKinney, Scott Davidson, John Elisens, Janet Cosgrove, Sandy Cooper, Howard Cooper, Mary Jane Copley, George Brocklesby, Mark Rosenblatt, Ruth Bean, Michelle Baliff, Judith Kay, and the good people of Arden. |
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Remembrance: Bob Aarons
Neal was my friend for 51 years. He was a person of many temperaments and talents. A bookseller, bibliophile, journalist, and occasional philosopher and raconteur, he could and did expound on various and sundry subjects from politics, to music, to baseball.
One of his favorite pastimes was his love of jazz and jazz musicians. He often mentioned Clifford Brown, a great trumpet player from Wilmington, Delaware, but he also would acquaint me with the likes of Django Reinhart, Dave Van Ronk, and even a jazz bagpipe virtuoso named Rufus Harley. Not that he did not enjoy rock and roll. I well remember once he turned up the volume so loudly on a Eric Clapton blues riff at a University of Delaware dorm that it hurt everyone's ears.
Neal ran several antiquarian bookshops and stalls in the Delaware area. He loved setting up these establishments, and how many times his comrades assisted him in lugging boxes and boxes of old tomes up and down stairways I shutter to contemplate. Suffice it to say that the challenge of opening a new bookshop was eventually followed by their concomitant abandonment when he would lose interest.
Neal did not suffer fools gladly, and I often wondered why he put up with me. He could be impetuous, free-spirited, exuberant, and exasperating—all within a few hours of each other. At the proverbial drop of a hat he was enthusiastically ready to explore some new restaurant he heard about in Philadelphia, or visit an old friend in Chicago.
It was his love of life that attracted him to his many friends, as well as his wise, subtle, outrageous, and at times truculent sense of humor and self that both endeared and startled those he met. Whatever faults he had, and there were a good few, people who knew Neal could never forget him. His impression was indelible. Our world is a sadder place without its Neals.
My grandmother once wisely told me that the worst thing about reaching old age is that you lose all those friends with whom you shared a lifetime of memories. Neal was one of those rare lifetime friends. I trust this album of music he loved will be a flower to his memory and spirit.
Bob Aarons
27 January 2012
One of his favorite pastimes was his love of jazz and jazz musicians. He often mentioned Clifford Brown, a great trumpet player from Wilmington, Delaware, but he also would acquaint me with the likes of Django Reinhart, Dave Van Ronk, and even a jazz bagpipe virtuoso named Rufus Harley. Not that he did not enjoy rock and roll. I well remember once he turned up the volume so loudly on a Eric Clapton blues riff at a University of Delaware dorm that it hurt everyone's ears.
Neal ran several antiquarian bookshops and stalls in the Delaware area. He loved setting up these establishments, and how many times his comrades assisted him in lugging boxes and boxes of old tomes up and down stairways I shutter to contemplate. Suffice it to say that the challenge of opening a new bookshop was eventually followed by their concomitant abandonment when he would lose interest.
Neal did not suffer fools gladly, and I often wondered why he put up with me. He could be impetuous, free-spirited, exuberant, and exasperating—all within a few hours of each other. At the proverbial drop of a hat he was enthusiastically ready to explore some new restaurant he heard about in Philadelphia, or visit an old friend in Chicago.
It was his love of life that attracted him to his many friends, as well as his wise, subtle, outrageous, and at times truculent sense of humor and self that both endeared and startled those he met. Whatever faults he had, and there were a good few, people who knew Neal could never forget him. His impression was indelible. Our world is a sadder place without its Neals.
My grandmother once wisely told me that the worst thing about reaching old age is that you lose all those friends with whom you shared a lifetime of memories. Neal was one of those rare lifetime friends. I trust this album of music he loved will be a flower to his memory and spirit.
Bob Aarons
27 January 2012