The Syndicate

I totally forgot to mention (and it apparently took me half a month to suddenly remember) that, should our MVP sigtrane have been lynched D1 (well, he was counterwagon, after all), I would have flavoured his death to mention that he decided to walk out of the rehearsal in a fit of anger, but then his stitches from being shot by "Socky" in Turf Wars didn't hold up and he bled to death until reaching the exit. That modkill and this potential lynch would have coincided. But ultimately, I guess that "trane" never left the station and the game went in a different direction.

Oh dear. I'm gonna have to visit my grandma and take a ton of notes for that one.

Ok people, I am delighted to announce the following laureates.

For the MVP category, a total of 10 votes have been expressed (I have also voted) and five players have received a bit of love. We have a clear winner, however, and that player iiiiiIIiIiiIiIiIIs

*drumrolls*

[oh damn, I forgot to use Strawhenge's drumming video in this game; damn... so many things I left out...]
Congratulations, you are the MVP of Esbjörn Svensson Trio Mafia and the fifth player to qualify for the All-Star Heist Game.

Now, without disclosing who the other contenders were, I'll just say that I have the utmost confidence that each one of you will shine again in future games and receive your own MVP title.

===

As for our Best Roleplay award, a total of five votes have been expressed and two contenders have been rightfully nominated.

And the Winner iiiiiiiIiIiIIiIiIiiiIiis

*drumfills*
Congratumatalations on this consolatory recognition, and to everyone who put a bit of heart into their character, really!

Imma watch a movie for the next hour and a half and then announce the results. Enough votes are in for the MVP, but the roleplay could use more. I think only five people haven't voted for MVP, in fact.

If by any chance you sent me a PM with the sock account, I might not have received it. "Potter" said he did, but I don't have it in my inbox. Strange.

A kind reminder of the significant post-game actions, for those who haven't done it yet.

Ricochet wrote:

Important!

Please clear out your sock accounts by erasing your messages
and resetting your password (if changed) to:

estmafia1

Inform here in the thread once you have done so.

Ricochet wrote:

Now that the game has concluded, an MVP must be voted, so he can qualify for the All-Star Heist Whatiscalled.

Please send me via PM your nomination for the E.S.T. Mafia MVP. You have 24 hours, but I would suggest you do it, like, right now... (people will usually tend to forget, otherwise).

There's also been some real quality roleplaying, so please nominate a player for the E.S.T. Best Roleplay award, as well!

(I don't remember, can non-players vote as well...?)

For the latter, I would very much like to announce the results this evening (in, say, 4 or 5 hours from now). It's a tight race, so far, with just 5 players having voted, so send your nomination if you want to contribute to who gets to play in the All-Star league.

Also, I was ready to use this hilarious clip (it's from Watts on Eurosport, which mashes up funny clips or, well, accidents and strange stuff in sports with music) on an occasion in which someone would have made an absolute blunder of a phase or action, but ultimately nothing seemed fitting.

BTSC Mafia Chat summed up in an equation:

x 24hrs

S~V~S wrote:This was a really fun game to watch, Rico, awesome posts!

I am glad you went with the socks, it added a certain ambiance to the subject matter that just would not have worked as well with everyday personas.

Since submitting it, my game evolved from strictly song-centric Host Posts (the way MP did Pet Sounds) aka diary entries to the concept of players (real personas) gathering up to fictionally talk about their favorite jazz (aka player-influenced Host Post flavour) to suddenly expanding it to encompass other jazz to omg why not jazz sockies! to allowing players to choose their own socks to this game's final form, having a bit of everything, really.

Plus, I wanted socks, because I think it's pretty much the only game mechanic that hasn't been experimented with in Heists, after Zodiac.

Metalmarsh89 wrote:Mafia did win the first Heist game, but civilians are on a role now, winning the last 4. Go civs!

Is Zodiac officially disowned from the Heist sequence?

Speaking of rolls, Zeebs keeps winning these with ease. Played 5, won 4.

ika wrote:

Ricochet wrote:
Finally, I have a question: why was your impression, after Night 3 kill, that scum is not paying attention? Gleam actually killed one of the two cop-confirmed players. What should have he done instead?

Well, i felt like knowing who the cop was that scums werent paying full attention, i would of killed someone more vocal in the game. expicaly when that case was built

FMPOV knowing mingus was town confirmed i would of gone for tht

Mingus wasn't town confirmed, Voopy only got Vince as his D0 peek (I randomized among vanilla civs), then checked Coltrane and Holiday (who concomittantly died). It was fun to watch how everyone took from his posts whatever he thought was legit. Vompatti is such a chaos maker.

Long Con wrote:Fantastic game, impressive posts, great hosting Rico! I hope to play a game where you are hosting and the subject is one that I can relate to more, because your passion and dedication and amazing posts were more than awesome!

Learned from studying the masters.

Triskaidekaphobia (which I hope will take place no sooner than May, cause I really need a break until then) will have far less Host Post flourish, although I'm still planning some interesting hidden details for it. My storytelling caprice could most likely return for Godspeed You Black Emperor, where it might get really dark and s̻͈ͨ̃̿͊̓̚p̲̬͚ȯ̪̆̅͟o̳̞̹k̭̜͈̰̈́̒ͬ̇ͬͅy̺̥̰̩̱͜ͅ ͂

Anyway, I enjoyed your mild scummy-looking gameplay and your banter went along well with often making Miles in the story a bit of a douche. I think you acknowledged in the thread, after Day 2, that you were just poking and keeping pressure on ika, otherwise I would have wondered a bit more why you really took the extreme approach in the "<godfather being bussed> is a valid theory as any and we need to keep it in mind, at least" matter.

Oh, I also really liked how you reasoned each of the doc choices in your PMs, even if you never managed to protect a victim.

ika wrote:
sorsha - i dunno if you jsut are inactive as scum or not but that is what kinda killed ya out

metalmarsh - shoot me a pm if you would liemt o learn more about how i found cop i think you did good and i had mild ideas of you being doc at one point

Sorsha went dark since early Night 1. I doubt there's anything to project about her baddie game in this regard, in fact I was amused when Miles/LC post-flip said "ohhh so Sorsha is more inactive when bad, note to self".

Also, is there an art to finding a cop wombat who is blatantly infodumping in the thread? I think Silver noticed the first and readjusted her game accordingly.

Finally, I have a question: why was your impression, after Night 3 kill, that scum is not paying attention? Gleam actually killed one of the two cop-confirmed players. What should have he done instead?

Silverwolf wrote:That play by play was awesome. Thanks again all!! This was a fun one.

Play by play?

Ricochet wrote:

Now that the game has concluded, an MVP must be voted, so he can qualify for the All-Star Heist Whatiscalled.

Please send me via PM your nomination for the E.S.T. Mafia MVP. You have 24 hours, but I would suggest you do it, like, right now... (people will usually tend to forget, otherwise).

There's also been some real quality roleplaying, so please nominate a player for the E.S.T. Best Roleplay award, as well!

(I don't remember, can non-players vote as well...?)

You peeps already forgot, didn't ya?

Metalmarsh89 wrote:

Ricochet wrote:

Metalmarsh89 wrote:Hi, I was Hiromi. I'm pretty sure everyone figured it out. :P

Also, Hiromi's account has been cleaned out.

Did you pick up on Coleman being Voopy/cop and started mirroring him to smokescreen others or just for the lulz?

No I did not. It was entirely coincidental that Vompatti was the cop and I mimicked him while pretending to be the cop.

But I was trying to protect him and call out confirmed civs on a daily basis. I believe I started doing that before he did.

Yep, that's what I picked up on.

ayyy gold!

Silverwolf wrote:Do the scum chat's get released in these games?

Yeah, but MP will have to make it visible, when he has time.

Also, it was basically just me and Gleam, so not much there, lol.

Metalmarsh89 wrote:Hi, I was Hiromi. I'm pretty sure everyone figured it out. :P

Also, Hiromi's account has been cleaned out.

Did you pick up on Coleman being Voopy/cop and started mirroring him to smokescreen others or just for the lulz?

agleaminranks wrote:

Ricochet wrote:Despite no intention for the Host Post to be anything but flavor, Ornette's creepy reply was meant to hint at him being Vompatti. Couldn't help it, I guess.

I had my suspicions but when I saw that line it confirmed it. Was actually real surprised you let that one through Rico. I got a good laugh out of it.

Yeah, gotta work on that, so far I got strongly influenced to craft flavour from the gameplay or to toy around with references and hints.

I doubt it contributed to anyone thinking Vom-goddamn-patti drew cop, though. Oh how I looked for my jaw back when I randomized the roles.

linki: Ha ha.

linki2: Thanks for playing. Glad you did.

Polo wrote:Thanks so much to Rico for being such an awesome host! I had a real fun time playing my first Mafia game here, even though I haven't been much of a good player. Hope to actually contribute to the fun of the next games I play!

The sunset-sax-on-a-boat guy is still doing it every day.

Dunno what you mean, you had spot on reads, for someone playing, I assume, his first online game? Sure, you have more of a "drop by on occasion" and "throw suspicion to see what sticks" kind of gameplay, but in this case it worked, so kudos to you.

See you in another game!

I was desperately searching for the video on YouTube when I manufactured that post and then I realized, d'oh, you filmed that, right? Completely forgot the town, though, so I invented some Mediterranean bogus stuff ... is it in your hometown?

Game history.

agleaminranks wrote:Sockpuppet account cleared and pass reset.

Rico, I can only hope the story for the final day was written in my honor. You know how much I love Hertzfeldt. Wiggle wiggle wiggle. OK

I'd like to thank you guys for letting me play. This was my first real experience as mafia and I had quite a bit of fun. Congrats on the win.
I also want to thank my teammates for presenting me with a tremendous handicap from the get go. I just wanna emphasize how little I had to go with and how stacked the odds were against me from the get go.

It was. Hope you enjoyed it nevertheless and I'm sure you'll have a better experience, town or mafia, in the future.

Everyone should know that Gleam/Dixon sort of did a one-man effort for four cycles - 95%, let's say.

All the kills were his (his teammates hardly or never returned to aid him, despite being allowed to) and he was inspired (or lucky) enough to dodge the doctor every single time. On Night 2, he also cancelled the cop's read by killing the damsel herself.
All his kills were meant to seed some doubt or create some imbalance for the civs.

Aside from needing to work a bit more his vote/wagon camouflage, on searching for power roles to kill (I mean, Voopy was blatant-as-fuck, after all) and maybe being slightly more active in confronting his hunters, I'd conclude that he has put an otherwise commendable effort.

Oops, I know I said "finally" in my previous Host Post, but, better put my hat back on...

Forgot to mention, but either here or in private, any kind of feedback would be welcomed. Thanks again for participating!

And "finally"
Diary

Day 0

== Wilgy (Navarro) jumps right on to sockguessing, gets actually 7/8 right (apart from thinking G-Man didn't join), although some names were pretty obvious or had slipped that they'd play
== sig (Coltrane) and Sorsha (Puente) get into their role pretty quickly
== Gleam (Dixon) mild distancing from Scotty (Buble) from the get go? Scotty plays along.
== So far, sig (Coltrane) seems to roleplay on his own and Gleam (Dixon) seems to follow the cliffnotes he received in doing his own act.
== Vompatti (Coleman) received confirmation of G-Man (Guaraldi) being vanilla civilian at the end of the phase, as his free ID to start the game.

Day 1

== Wilgy (Fats) fishes for reaction on sig (Coltrane) with a vote; sig later eyeballs him back
== G-Man (Guaraldi) fishes for reaction on Gleam (Dixon); Long Con (Miles) adds to it, Wilgy (Fats) dismisses it
== ika sockgaffes multiple times
== Gleam (Dixon) keeps it cool, bites back at Long Con (Miles); gets civread by MM (Hiromi)
== Vompatti (Coltrane) posts dada stuff, MM (Hiromi) replies to it; later Coltrane votes no lynch
== banter on voting Scotty (Buble) from Coltrane and Dixon; Gleam keeps the button on bus, in this matter
== Polo (Potter) finally makes an appearance
== Gleam (Dixon) pushes for a Zebra (Mingus) suss, invoking even Host flavour; little sketchy, but doesn't catch fire for it
== Scotty (Buble) dismisses votes on him; ika (Fleck) calls it unsatisfying; Scotty OMGUS's him
== Silverwolf (Holiday) votes his hubby for sockgaffing, lulz; then switches to Scotty (Buble)
== Fats - Coltrane antagonism intensifies, enough for a counterwagon
== Fats analyses votes, likes Mingus' vote for Buble but dislikes Potter's; dislikes Hiromi's vote for Trane; dislikes both votes on Dixon; dislikes Coleman's no lynch; ironically, this could be plenty of material to backfire back at him, post-flip or even long term (looking like he's defending scummy Dixon)
== inadvertedly, Scotty's top sock choice seems to have backfired on him, once he rolled mafia, since Buble was easy to pick on by the more old school, high-art socks... End of Day 1, mafia team looks in pretty bad shape: Sorsha (Tito) tried a save move on the counterwagon, but Scotty didn't return to try to save himself; Gleam (Dixon) backed away from his early Buble suss. Godfather death also eliminates any margin of error from the cop's future reads

Night 1

== sig (Coltrane) reads all four Buble voters civilians [correct] and last voter to wagon him as mafia [correct]; also calls Bill mafia, which is also correct, but then sort of backtracks...?
== Silverwolf (Billie) also intent to look at Coltrane wagoners [1 scum, two civs] also Guaraldi and Davis [1 civ, 1 doc]
== Gleam (Dixon) goes for the Scotty was bussed approach
== Wilgy (Fats) gets heat for being first counter-wagoner (from Fleck and Davis)
== Long Con (Davis) is considering wild option that Fleck mega-distanced; WIFOM talk sparks some tension, could get mafia-exploitable

== Vompatti (Coleman) asked for a read on John Coltrane and received confirmation of him being vanilla civilian at the end of the Phase
== Long Con (Davis) protected zebra (Mingus)
== zebra (Mingus) did not send in her insanification power - or shown any signs of end-phase presence, for that matter
== Mafia - or in fact just Gleam (Dixon) - chooses to eliminate a player involved in in-thread quarrels, namely Wilgy (Fats).

Day 2
== To sum it up, the nightkill momentarily created some smear on Coltrane, after which The Bickering Trio of Davis, Fleck and Mingus, with Dame Holliday as a special guest, became the polarizing event. Long Con (Davis) later claimed he just kept pressure on. Bicker between zebra (Mingus) and ika (Fleck) seems to have been based on principles, moreover. Vompatti (Coleman) plainly dumped the info that he checked Coltrane and Silverwolf (Holiday) seems to have picked that up right away. All moves on Hiromi suddenly moved on Sorsha (Puente). Sorsha never reappeared since the beginning of Night 1. Gleam's (Dixon) ISOs were solid smokescreen, imo, but he made a bit of a hasty move, jumping off Fleck's counterwagon. To his somewhat better fortune (at least for the moment), G-Man (Vince) created a momentum for him to return on casting a relevant vote.

Night 2
== Vompatti (Coleman) asked for a read on Billie Holiday and will receive confirmation of her being vanilla civilian at the end of the Phase
== Long Con (Davis) protected G-Man (Vince) on this Night
== Zebra (Mingus) used his mingussanifier on Fleck (setting it to "Mingus", to explicitly spite him)
== Gleam (Dixon) killed Billie Holiday. Incidentally, it ruined the cop's read that Phase.

Day 3
== Fleck (ika) posted normally at first, before receiving his curse via PM, then forgot about posting in curse language, then just evaded the curse requirements (stopped using names and pronouns, although he still slipped one or two times afterwards) and didn't come back until EoD, either.
== [I didn't keep a record in real-time, tbh] Bottom line, Coleman got lynched and Coleman didn't exactly do much against it, as expected. Counter-wagon was Hiromi, for low activity and POE D1 counter-wagoning. Tally ended 5 to 4.

Night 3
== Long Con (Davis) protected ika (Fleck) on this Night.
== Gleam (Dixon) considered killing Polo (Potter), then changed to G-Man (Vince). It probably happened after Potter wrote another suspicion post on Dixon in the thread.

Day 4
== A bit of conflict between big-ego-civilians resumed, with a bit of second doubting and WIFOM thrown in it, but then POE on lynched baddies' counterwagons and plot against Cop Coleman getting lynched finally dooms Gleam (Dixon). The game is complete.

Quirks

During Signups, the Host shared regularly (up to a point) pieces by E.S.T. None of the pieces shared in the Signup thread were role songs assigned in the game. During the Day, the Host sometimes shared music by the jazz artists chosen by the players who signed up.

All the Diary entries started with a letter from E S B J O R N's name. I only got to ESBJORN SV-, though.

All the Diary entries, except for "Prelude" and "Take 1" (the stuff dealing with E.S.' death and my impressions on Leucocyte, upon first listen) and "Take 4" (rewritten parts of my review for 301, published on JazzMusicArchives), were newly improvised by me during the game. All the entries' dates, except for the three mentioned, were purely fictional. I never actually kept a diary on E.S.T.'s music.

References

All Host Post titles have been modified into pictures, to reference Leucocyte's cover graphics.

The Day 0 Title references E.S.T.'s album Tuesday Wonderland (as well as the title track on it). The game also happened to start (at least in my time zone) and have its Day 0 take place on a Tuesday.

The Day 1 Title is an exact reference to the two-part piece Premonition off Leucocyte.

In the Day 1 Host Post text:

-- The text is referencing in the first lines of dialogue the fact that the Neutral Connoisseur picked Monk or Fleck for a player who passed on choosing his sock (ika), but the Host went with Fleck instead of Monk
-- Miles is calling out some of the musicians with whom he recorded Bitches Brew: Chick Corea, Joe Zawinul, Wayne Shorter, Dave Holland or Juma Santos ('Jim Riley') who played shakers and congas
-- The 'Remember me? (...) 'It's me, Charles. Yeah, Mingus!' line is taken from an open letter Mingus wrote to Davis.
-- Hiromi's line referenced the collaboration between her and Chick Corea.
-- Despite no intention for the Host Post to be anything but flavor, Ornette's creepy reply was meant to hint at him being Vompatti. Couldn't help it, I guess.
-- Coltrane's line on what matters in jazz is actually an actual quote from him.
-- The text introduced, for sheer flavor, Terence Fletcher from the movie Whiplash as an antagonizer. I'm not head over heels with that movie, its morals or the message it might try to convey, but I thought it was a worthy occasion to transpose him into the theme of this game. Several lines and situations were interpreted or even quoted from the movie.

The Night 1 title is a mix of Bublé's song called Feeling Good and Scotty's role card Dodge the Dodo. Sock-related references were slipped into the text (Ornette's Chappaqua, Miles' Steamin', Dixon wordplaying Miles' Kind of Blue). Bublé's swansong is adapted from his own song To Be Loved.

The Day 2 title references one of Navarro's pieces and the Host Post references the Rube Golden machine (as possible inspiration to E.S.T.'s 'The Rube Thing'?). Fletcher's "fat lady" pun is a reference to Navarro's being nicknamed that way, because of his weight issues. The part regarding Vince playing "fascinating rhythms" also references one of his pieces and him "snooping" references... well, y'know...

The Night 2 title is a paraphrase of Whiplash's Terence Fletcher's 'Not quite my tempo' catchphrase. The Host Post paraphrased the fight between Davis, Mingus, Fleck and Holiday and some of Fleck's philosophy on meta was turned into a monologue on the beauty of the banjo, towards the end of the text. Fleck's line about "disentchantment" is a reference to his album with Chick Corea The Entchantment and some of his monologue's musical references hint at Fleck's cover album of classical music Perpetuum Mobile. Gloomy Sunday was a song performed by the real Billie Holiday - Day 2 ended on a Sunday (early Monday). MovingPictures07's Death Note game and Host Post style is also referenced. Me smoking cigar and drinking wine references a PM I sent to MP during that Phase, expressing my dirty pleasure watching everything unfold.

The Day 3 title is a reference to one of Billie Holiday's songs. The Host Post referenced the romance between ika and Silver, the Host's real disentchantment at the mafia team getting BTFO. Vince remaining alone on stage turned into a recurrent joke. The Fast Show Jazz Club and Vince eating "peanuts" are pretty straightforwards. Miles joining Vince is a tongue-in-cheek references at LC protecting G-Man that Night.

The Night 3 title references one of Ornette Coleman's albums and Vompatti's ability to rolecheck in the game. All the words in Fletcher's insults were turned into rhyming equivalent; all the insults paraphrased, except for the first one, were said by Fletcher in the movie Whiplash. Neyman, the movie protagonist, is brought into the story for further flavour and for lack of a drummer, now that Tito was dead. ika's "Mingus" curse is referenced. A lot of Vompatti's weirdspeak is referenced or paraphrased, including his once infamous "I'm rooting for the baddies" (from Biblical), him often infoduming his confirmed civreads, his erotic love statement for certain writers or artists etc. The real Coleman's album Something Else!!! is also used in the dialogue. A paragraph from Borroughs' Naked Lunch (whose adaptation was scored by the real Coleman) is copied, with the word "jazz" replacing the word "junk" in the original text.

The Day 4 title is a reference to the "Good ol' Charlie Brown" catchphrase from Peanuts. Once again, Vince remaining alone is used as recurrent motive, this time to facilitate his death. Once again, Miles is referenced tagging along the person he protected that Night (ika/Fleck). The paragraph with Potter and the Host's meta joke that he will not die is a reference to Potter almost being targeted with the nightkill. Potter's story about a man playing jazz in a boat at sunset is a real story Polo once told me and even showed me a clip. The Host's story about once smoking weed, then having an important concert and then having heart issues, which he didn't know whether to attribute to the weed or the concert, is also real. The cutaway scene to Fletcher and Neyman is paraphrased from the movie.

The Finale title is a reference to one of Bill Dixon's albums, Vade Mecum, Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World, mixed with Don Hertzfeldt's World of Tomorrow. More on the latter in a minute. The Host post breaks into meta, with a backstory for Bill Dixon and a Dixon-POV recap of the phases' events. I sort of wrote this lengthy format as an hommage to Gleam (Dixon) actually trying his best in his role. Much of the first section is a paraphase to Don Hertzfeldt's It's Such a Beautiful Day animation trilogy, sometimes with word-for-word transposed dialogue, which Gleam and I are both gay for. The protagonist in that trilogy is called Bill. Dixon's absurd death, at the end of the Host Post, is also a tongue-in-cheek reference to a pun in one of the trilogy's fragments. Meanwhile, the bit of dialogue between Bill and his granddaughter Emily is a paraphrase of a scene in Hertzfeld't recent World of Tomorrow. During the next (and final) band rehearsal, Easy Six is a reference to a jazz song and to the fact that there would be six remaining players, once Day 4 concludes. During the solo trials, every remaining sock/player's role song (including Dixon's) is subtly referenced.

===

if Coltrane would have died D1, I would have used the title "Tranewreck" for the Host Post
if Fleck would have died D2, I would have used the title "Just a Fleck Wound" for the Host Post
if Hiromi would have died D3, I would have used the title "Hiromi, Mon Amour" (referencing the movie Hiroshima, Mon Amour) for the Host Post

sig wrote:Thanks for the game Rico I enjoyed it! And good game all around I enjoyed it alot.

Cheers, sig! You were indeed solid and no-nonsense in your hunt, congrats.

Epignosis wrote:Had I signed up, I would have gone with Bill Evans, Astrid Gilberto, or Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen. I would have been happy with any of them. Or Joe Pass.

(Why didn't you?)

Bill Evans would have been a great choice and you would have most certainly received it.

Finally, and this is highly exceptional for a Heist game, but I also took the liberty to craft some banners for this game.



And one for me.

(I don't remember, can non-players vote as well...?)

In order of signing up:

Metalmarsh89's picks were Hiromi Uehara, Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane. He was assigned Hiromi Uehara.
agleaminranks' picks were Robert Glasper, Bill Dixon, Brad Mehldau. He was assigned Bill Dixon.
a2thezebra's picks were Vince Guaraldi, Charles Mingus, Serge Bringolf. She was assigned Charles Mingus.
Polo's picks were Chris Potter, Dave Holland, Tony Williams. He was assigned Chris Potter.
sig passed on picking jazz players. The Neutral Connoisseur was appointed and picked John Coltrane for him.
Sorsha's pick was Tito Puente. She was assigned Tito Puente.
Long Con's picks were Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis and John Coltrane. Coltrane was already taken. He was assigned Miles Davis.
ika passed on picking jazz players. The Neutral Connoisseur was appointed and picked Béla Fleck for him.
Silverwolf's picks were Merl Saunders, Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong. She was assigned Billie Holiday.
DrWilgy hesitated to provide me with picks. Then, he googled Fats Navarro. He was assigned Fats Navarro.
Vompatti's picks were Ornette Coleman, Chet Baker and Andrew Hill. He was assigned Ornette Coleman.
G-Man's pick was Vince Guaraldi. Luckily I had not assigned Guaraldi as zebra's first choice. Thus, G-Man was assigned Vince Guaraldi.
Scotty's picks were Michael Bublé, Harry Connick Jr. and Ella Fitzgerald. He was assigned Michael Bublé.

Thanks to sprityo and Matt for signing up as replacements, even if you never got to sub.
agleaminranks was serious in wanting to be a Viaticum-related role, so I granted him that wish. I hinted in private that he should be careful what he wishes for, but he replied YOLO. All the other 12 roles were randomly distributed, as seen below:

Proof

In order of game roles (alignment > E.S.T. albums chronology)

"Hands Off" from When Everyone Has Gone | Miles Davis | Long Con
"Breadbasket" from Live '95 | Chris Potter | Polo
"Bemsha Swing" from Plays Monk | Charles Mingus | a2thezebra
"Semblance Part II" from Winter in Venice | Béla Fleck | ika
"Serenade for the Renegade" from Strange Place to Snow | John Coltrane | sig
"Elevation of Love" from Seven Days of Falling | Billie Holiday | Silverwolf
"Dolores in a Shoestand" from Tuesday Wonderland | Hiromi Uehara | Metalmarsh89
"The Rube Thing" from Live in Hamburg | Fats Navarro | DrWilgy
"Jazz" from Leucocyte | Vompatti | Ornette Coleman
"The Left Lane" from 301 | Vince Guaraldi | G-Man

"Dodge the Dodo" from From Gagarin's Point of View | Michael Bublé | Scotty
"The Wraith" from Good Morning Susie Soho | Tito Puente | Sorsha
"Letter from the Leviathan" from Viaticum | Bill Dixon | agleaminranks

Signup phase

Every player who confirmed participation was asked to optionally send to the Host via PM two or three names of jazz players that he/she liked the most, in case he/she were familiar with this genre. Period, subgenre and instrument(s) mattered not; the only rules were that it had to be a specific artist (i.e. not a band or ensemble) and that he/she could not have chosen Esbjörn Svensson.

One of the players' choices would thus become his/her sock account pseudonym.

In case a player would pass on choosing his/her favourites, the Mod of Duty would then be appointed as mediator. His temporary role was the following

Neutral Connoisseur.

You must pick the name of a jazz player for forum members that, during the signup process, have passed on doing this thing themselves. Please inform the Host via PM of your pick. Person, genre, jazz period, instrument(s) matter not; the only rules are that it must be a specific individual (i.e. not ensembles or bands) and it cannot be Esbjörn Svensson. You will not be told which other names have been already picked or named, but in case your pick should come in conflict with already chosen ones, the Host will let you know. You will not be told which forum member you're choosing for.

Game phase
Civilian Roles

"Hands Off" from When Everyone Has Gone. Civilian doctor. Every Night, can choose to protect a player from being nightkilled.
"Breadbasket" from Live '95. Vanilla civilian.
"Bemsha Swing" from Plays Monk. Vanilla civilian.
"Semblance Part II" from Winter in Venice. Vanilla civilian.
"Serenade for the Renegade" from Strange Place to Snow. Vanilla civilian.
"Elevation of Love" from Seven Days of Falling. Vanilla civilian.
"Dolores in a Shoestand" from Tuesday Wonderland. Vanilla civilian.
"The Rube Thing" from Live in Hamburg. Vanilla civilian.
"Jazz" from Leucocyte. Civilian cop. Every Night, can check a player to determine his role and alignment. Receives one free ID on another civilian at the end of D0.
"The Left Lane" from 301. Vanilla civilian.

Mafia Roles

"Dodge the Dodo" from From Gagarin's Point of View. Mafia godfather. Will be read as civilian if checked by the civilian cop.
"The Wraith" from Good Morning Susie Soho. Vanilla mafia.
"Letter from the Leviathan" from Viaticum. Vanilla mafia.

---

a2thezebra, having chosen Mingus among her jazz names and having been assigned as such, met during role distribution the conditions to be granted an extra ability:

Additionally and exceptionally, you are also a Mingussanifier (or Timmersanifier). You get a one-time night power to target a player with curse that player to post in an insanified way during the subsequent Day phase. The "Timmer"variation of this curse usually meant, in past games, that the cursed player had to post "Timmer" instead of any names or pronouns in every sentence he wrote. You can choose to curse him to write "Mingus", but it is up to you to evaluate the consequences of doing that. You can also choose any other keyword you might prefer, but usually "Timmer" had the most memetic impact in past games.

You can use it only starting Night 1 and it will take effect if and only if you survive the Night in which you sent the action.

She would have been granted this ability if and only if she drew a civilian role (which she did).

Apologies for colouring outside the 3-role guidelines with this and apologies to the player who got insanified, but it was too fun not to reference Mingus (i.e. his album called Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, for instance) this way. (Then again, ika's response to being cursed with this was pretty, uhm, "eloquent...)

'Ok, so now what?' Potter asked, when the final six returned in the Auditorium Hall.
'Well...' said Coltrane. 'Let's play something.'
'Something by Mingus!', suggested none other than Mingus.
'Alright already!', gestured Fleck. 'Let's get this over with.'
And the big band of six (err seven with Neyman) played Mingus' Better Get Hit in Yo' Soul and it all sounded good. Even Fletcher was so content, that when they finished playing, he was out the door.
'And now what?' Potter asked again.
'Well...' Miles gave his cheeky input. 'Let's wrap it up, the old fashioned way...Five, six, seven and-'
'Wait, wait, wait, hol' on, hoool on' Miles then interjected. 'This sounded rather flukey, don't you think? Let's try it one mo' time. Five, six, seven and-'

This is the longer story of Bill, how he ended up here, how he did his share of the battle and how he died.

This morning, Bill felt really tired, even though he'd just been sleeping. That night, he dreamt of a monstrous fish head, growing out of his skull and feeding upon it. He sat down at the kitchen counter and re-read a jazz interview in an old Downbeat edition. Then he watched the ants crawl around in his sink.

A letter and an envelope came for him that day. The invitation said something about welcoming him to a "Great Jazz Spirits Reunion Show" event later that evening, "9PM sharp" in fact, at the Auditorium. Meanwhile, the envelope was more of a special message from, allegedly, one of the Hosts of the event, telling him of a particular mission he was invested in and a team he had to work with, should he choose to come to the event.

Bill just sighed and thought to himself that this had to happen sooner or later. He didn't know right then what to do. Then he decided to call his daughter on Skype. Someone else answered, though.

'Brrrrrrrrrrroooooowoowooo ohh lookett ohpeens aahp', a child's treble voice was heard, along with the sound of hands bashing and clasping on the keyboard.
'Emily? Emily pumpkin is that you? My goodness, look at you', Bill spoke, looking a bit puzzled.
'Hiiiiii', the joyous girl replied, staring at him.
'Wanted to speak with your momma a bit', Bill explained, 'but I guess she ain't aroun' right now. Anyhow, I wanted to tell you I'm headin' out tonight, might just head out soon in fact, somethin' I gotta do, somethin' serious to deal with, you know. Funny thing tho, I don't know how it'll go and what will happen after.'
'I had lunch today...' Emily informed him.
'Nothing to worry 'bout, everything is going smooth, you know, but just sayin' it for the record. You make sure you tell your mom about this, kay sugar? Listen... When folks have a long history behind 'em, they either get to stay on top or get blanked out, you know... and sometimes you have to take matter into ya own hands and do somethin' to get back on top.'
'Granpa!’ Emily shouted with a distracted look.
'The phases I went through, in my art, haven't been conscious or anythin'', Bill suddenly got deep into thoughts. 'They've just worked themselves to the present stage. It's been sort of an evolution, without being overly complex or simplistic about it. Whether it goes places or not, you can do it; whether anyone sees it or not, you should do it; it's only depending on the necessity for you to do this, that it will evolve somehow. You make things, you put them aside; you make other things, you put them aside.'
'Do you like my cars?’ Emily asked.
'Emily, one day you will grow up and get to hear all my music and see all my paintings and other such art works. They might prove interesting, they might prove abstract, they might prove confusing, they might prove poetic, they might prove enlightening, they might prove free, they might prove old... All I can hope for is that they might still remind you a little of me... Music is getting so digital these days anyway, making it easier to make and to preserve... Wouldn't it be real nice if, in the not too distant future, folks could undergo a digitalization their own minds, like residin' in a cube, you now, where they could live on livin' on, gettin' to know a further safe, extended lifespan...'
'Look! I drawd... I thriaangle!’ Emily showed him a picture.
'I drew a snake girl on the daily crossword page, this morning', Bill said.
'But sum days... you hav to not make a snake girl... cuz yestrday I dinnt see any snake girl... but... you made one', Emily went on.
'Wha?' Bill got real confused.
'Can I do your other, but... then go round things?'
'I have no idea what you sayin', sweetheart.'
'Wiggle wiggle wiggle!'
'OK.'

As he reached for the keys on the counter, he froze for a bit and stood there staring at them, suddenly thinking about all the times he'd grabbed his keys there before and how many days of his life were wasted repeating the same tasks and rituals in his apartment over and over again. As Bill left the apartment, he stopped on the sidewalk, looked around and up, and thought to himself: 'It's kind of a really nice day.' He decided to walk first around the block for a bit. On the side of the road, he saw a woman's tennis shoes filled with leaves and it filled him with inexplicable sadness. At a newsstand, Bill looked at the list of magazines for sale and angrily wondered why they didn't offer any Asian porn. Then he wondered why he wondered that.

On the way to the bus stop, Bill saw somebody he recognized walking towards him, but he couldn't remember his name. He began to think of things to say when they'd be close enough to acknowledge each other. As they drew nearer, their eyes locked, uncertain if the other was going to stop to talk. The person greeted Bill as Bill mixed up the phrases 'What's up' with 'How's it going?’ Confused, the person blurted out 'Thanks', before he knew what he was saying. Words caught in Bill's throat and he replied, 'Weh'. They did a sort of awkward half turn, and then continued on, now confident that the other was not going to stop to talk.

In the bus taking him to the Auditorium, he sat in the back, next to a hippie looking guy who was listening to music on his headphones at such a loud volume, Bill could almost hear it himself. It sounded very much like one of Chopin's piano concertos. The guy noticed him and, without pausing the music or taking his headphones off, asked him, 'How's it goin'". The question made Bill even sulkier and he felt compelled to open up to this stranger about the weird days he's been having lately and how he feels he's at a stage, in which he's looking back instead of forwards, and that now, at the dawn of all these years of worry, sleepless nights and denials, he finds himself himself staring death in the face, surrounded by people he no longer recognizes.

The guy just hummed in acknowledgement at Bill's ranting, but then, just as Bill was thinking that the person didn't really pay any attention to him, this fellow started telling him he's got no reason to be so morose. 'From the sound of it, you spent dozens of years traveling the world, learning all there is to know and creating stunning works of art. And you'll do so for the next hundreds of years, too. You will learn every language. You will read every book. You will know every land. You will learn to meditate to control all pain. As wars will be fought and great loves found... and lost... and found. Lost... and found. And memories built upon memories, until life runs on an endless loop. Exploring... learning... living... until the earth is swallowed beneath his feet. Until the sun is long since gone. Until time loses all meaning. Living and living until all of the lights go out...'

Bill looked quite befuddled hearing all this. The guy just stared blankly for the next minute, until he thought of something and showed Bill his phone. 'Check out this video of a dog trying to catch a ball inside the house and fucking nosedives into a shelve of CDs. Makes me lose it every time I watch it, man.'

As Bill got out of the bus, facing the Auditorium building on the other side of the street, he kept thinking of that person's words and uncontrollably shed a tear. He grabbed tighter of his case, preparing to cross the street over, and he smiled, thinking for the first time that maybe everything will be o-- 'Oh hey there, you must be Mr. Dixon', a tall, excited man interrupted him. 'My name is Socky, I'm the one who sent you the invitation this morning, remember? So nice of you to come, wow, what a legend, I have so much respect for your work.' Bill noticed this Socky fella was holding a crowbar in his right hand and asked him what that was for. Socky just mumbled something about having to force open the doors of the place or something. 'Well, then, head right in', Socky continued, 'I'm just waiting here to greet the others, shouldn't take much longer now, you've arrived right on time.'

Before going inside, Bill showed him the envelope he received besides the invitation, wanting to ask what to do in this kind of situation. 'Oh, well, hmm', Socky checked the message and then advised Bill: 'this is quite challenging, but I'm sure you'll be up for the job. Just do your best, mingle with the others, play it like you mean it, wait to meet up with the rest afterwards and it might all work well. I'm sure you'll do great.'

===

And since then, Bill has had a lot to do and put up with. He was pleased, upon arrival, to see so many of the jazz greats he worked with, admired or appreciated back in his prime, but was slightly peeved to find out they'd all be his opponents, whilst the more strange characters in this turnout were the ones he was tagged with. 'Misfit among misfits', he thought to himself. At first, it made it rather easier for him to try to stir the pot first and comment on croonboy Bublé not belonging much in here. But then, once the talks got serious, he suddenly got a bit of cold feet and faux-pas'd himself into not tuning himself all the way through to the folks' heckle. Sounding his trumpet upon Coltrane, however, was sure to bite him back later.

Still, far from discouraged, Bill head over, during the first interval, to the private artists' booth that was mentioned on his envelope and waited there for the others... or, well, other. But he ended up spending that hour alone in the room. He thought he heard Tito's voice passing by, saying 'ayy lmao que fiasco', but the man never came in and soon was nowhere to be seen, when Bill checked outside on the hallway. So eventually he just took matter in his own hands and went back out there, to do what's necessary. He found Fats in the bathroom, trying to cool out after an altercation, and proceeded to knock him out and make an art installation out of him, using the pipes around and Fats' trumpet as headpiece.

Back on stage, he found it pleasing that the stars were bickering among themselves, and tried at the same time not to get too mercurial himself and to snake charm the rest with his thoughts on everyone. Alas, he ended up off-beat again when Tito fell asleep on the drum set and everyone decided to smother him. He was now solo. Determined to keep messing with people's insecurities, yet not liking the sight of Davis and Vince sticking together on stage, he followed Fleck and Holiday instead, when no one else could spot him and, whilst Fleck was still swooning from his head wound, kidnapped the lady, carried her upstairs with considerable effort and gave her rope wings to float motionlessly back on scene.

Another interval, another trial to go through, but much to his surprise, the writing wasn't on the wall for him just yet, given how ambitious Coleman was to gather all the boo's himself. With the excuse of wanting to go practice, but in truth trying to lure Coltrane into a death duo, he nonetheless couldn't go through with it, once hearing Trane's old style, affectionate improvs. He returned earlier than Trane and the rest on stage and picked on - albeit with just as much blues-singing motivation - the sitting duck Vince, instead.

And now, after all these crazy later hours, Bill felt his solo efforts were finally taking their toll and burning him out. What he didn't know was that his biggest, solo-est challenge was yet to come...


19.IX.2011

"Viactium, in all earnestness, is probably the essential E.S.T. album. It's the album you can recommend to anyone, it's the album anyone can start with, it's the second creative fuel tank which which the band skyrocketed further on their glorious, getting either more profound, more conceptual, more technical or more elaborate in their music making. And this is coming from the fanboy, for whom none of their albums are duds, irrelevant, unsatisfying or even remotely close to that. Still, even for me, Viaticum was my both introductory and groundbreaking entry into their jazzverse, and it stands as what I'd call the essence of all their art. Have they since surpassed even this high plane? No doubt whatsoever. Still, there's no better "compendium" of their traditional and their "way out" side than this album.

If I would have owned Viaticum on cassette, it would have long been worn out, during my high-school back and forth promenades in the city, due to how much I listened and relistened to its pieces. Particularly 'The Well-Wisher', a most fetching and candid funky loop, and 'The Unstable Table and the Infamous Fable', a whirlwind of sounds, arpeggios, crescendos, solos and effects. These two were in my enduring "opiate" mixtape back then. They're no solitary gems on the album, though. The usual slow-fast opening sequence ('Tide of Trepidation and 'Eighty-Eight Days in My Veins) showcases the band's natural, long-practiced craft. The title track and 'In the Tail of the Eye' are profoundly deep, intimate and inspiring slow ballads, the latter bridging with the flurrying, crashing, wicked sounding 'Letter from the Leviathan'. Finally, stuff like the hidden track on What Though the Way May Be Long introduces perhaps for the first time the more ethereal, non-descript language, that the band will then further explore and absorb into their music and their concerts..."



All amnesty and cool headedness among the musicians seemed to have yet again vanished, now that the player who could maybe cheer them up the most, not to mention judge event by the sound not by the fury, had been cruelly slain. Could this madness really go on much further, everyone seemed to wonder. The grand piano became impractical now, but Hiromi could still make use of her KORG and melodica. Mingus' bass was still in surprising good shape, although Mingus couldn't be less excited about current circumstances and shakedowns, which he considered garbage at Mingus standards. Fleck's banjo was in shambles, but he didn't care much about it no more. The brass gifted all felt spent. Drumkid Neyman, returning from practice, looked like a mess. Instead, Fletcher soon followed with his immovable posture and spirit and, to no one's surprise, demanded the players to resume the session.

'Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends', he took his center stage spot again. 'Or will it?' he judgmentally asked. 'I see we'll be hearing no more doodle bop from our bewhiskered friend', he joked of the late Vince. 'No worries. Now... maybe it's time to finally bring this home, what do you say?' He took the total silent reaction as confirmation, although, from the players, it was a bit more of a "please die already" reaction. 'Ok, then', Fletcher continued. 'Let's do...ah, this should work well given our current formation... Easy Six, bar one-oh-eight...'
'We're still seven, not counting the squeaker...' Coltrane pedantically mentioned.
'Well, not for long...' Fletcher grinned.

And so, they were at it again, ready to play and endure. Fletcher's right hand rose in the air and stopped vibrating pointing straight at the ensemble and the tense seconds started to add up, as everyone was waiting for his flick cue... But then:
'Nope, I just thought of something else', Fletcher lowered his hand. 'This piece has a lot of alternative solos, so I figured, we're almost one of a kind left for each of the core instruments - well, that disjoined frying pan Fleck's holding notwithstanding - so why not test out each of your solos first. Maybe this way, we can finally separate the best from the rest...'
This sounded like torture for the long bone-weary musicians, but there wasn't much they could do about it anyway. So, from left to right, they each started improvising, only to be then judged by the others.

Hiromi played her cadenza with surprising levity and refined playfulness with the harmonies, like a girl would waltz in a shoestand, trying countless pairs. And the others found it even-tempered.
Mingus just played the bass of Bemsha Swing, to signal all the fucks he was giving, and everyone else just said whatever.
Fleck played his solo like a brokenhearted love song, with some semblance to a faded woman's voice. Nobody would then doubt this man's craft and passion.
Down at the reeds, Coltrane played his like a soft serenade, but still with some rebellious inflexions. Everyone then valued it at around 3.5 stars out of 5, really.
Potter couldn't compete with his alternative and indeed sounded a bit dry, but, despite a few reservations, the rest of the band agreed it also had a serious note to it.
Trumpets left, and Miles just blew notes without even holding his trumpet with his hands. The Host kindly requests that you don't ask how that's even possible, he'd just like to wrap up this writing.
And Bill...

From the moment Fletcher suggested these solo trials, Bill finally saw the writing on the wall and knew what would happen. Then, when his turn came, he did the only thing left for him to do.

He got up and played.

And he played unlike anyone else, with long notes and broad strokes, wailing and gliding between the intervals, intensifying to leviathan-esque proportions. It sounded rough, fierce, bitter, wild and free. It... it sounded really beautiful.

When he finished, he put down his trumpet and looked at everyone around, who were not saying anything. And he knew. And they knew.
'I could sense it all along', Coltrane said.
'Let it be done, brother', Mingus commented. 'Your tunes are meant for different spheres than ours...'
'Dixon...’ Fletcher glared at him with a blank expression. 'You're done.'

For his musical efforts, however, the musicians did award Bill the clemency of escorting him back to the bus station, on to the late midnight ride, and giving him a head start until the break of dawn until they'd call the police, given his less tolerable criminal efforts. It was then certainly not their fault - nor indeed did they even remain outside long enough to notice it - that Bill's bus, just three blocks down the avenue, was hit by a train.

Bill's last thoughts was that, maybe, he had accomplished something after all. Then he remembered the conversation he had with his granddaughter yesterday and how she teased him and pranced in front of the webcam, saying 'Wiggle wiggle wi-

Votes in grey are votes that moved.

The clock struck one in the dead of the night and the players dropped their instruments for yet another interval. Seeing how their previous squabble resulted in a big time flop this time, how that masked marauder that they so swiftly took care of proved to be the kind that's more natural at it rather than nefarious at heart, and how their ensemble force now stood almost reduced to half, most of the surviving members tried to find resolution in putting aside their long-winded rancorous resentments and maybe trying to focus again on what's important.

'Alright, gang', Miles felt the need to say something. 'I know I've acted crazier than most around here, but man, had I realized what kind of a misfit was lurkin' inside Coleboy, I would have thought better about lynching his ass. As for us here still trying to pluck each other's eyeballs out, I think it's time to put much of that aside and, like, chill and rethink our strategy.'
To this the Host thought, with a suspish-like frown, that he had just written pretty much the same thing.
'Word', Coltrane consented. 'We need to go back to the basic fact that, when we first started this whole ordeal, someone still among us must have coordinated with Bublé's coo and Tito's pow in adding some grated, imperfect, Kenny G tier shitbits to our music. My guess is that that person wanted nothin' to do with them getting kicked out, either.'
'Sounds 'bout right to my ears as well, brother Trane', Miles agreed. 'But let's unwind first and get to the bottom of it afterwards. One more take should do it, if we focus well enough. Oh! And let's stick together during this whizz break or else the murderer might again sneak around to carry out his live evil plan.'
While most didn't mind these reassuring and safe reminders, Fleck puffed with a sour grimace and stood up to leave.
'Sorry', he said, 'but I ain't having no more of this right now. I told you all how bad of an idea that last knock off would be, I told you all Coleman looked like he had a hidden record of how things are shapin' up and should just come clean, I told you all who to lynch for real. I need to be alone now and I don't care what happens to me, otherwise', he concluded and walked off stage embittered.
Everyone rushed to persuade Fleck out of his estranged and deserting attitude, but Miles was quick to signal them to remain calm.
'I'll handle this', he said, heading towards the backstage curtain behind which Fleck vanished. 'Vince, how 'bout you join me? You're a pretty rational guy, so you could help, as well.'
'I think I'll stick around here, as usual', Vince declined. 'Stuff I have to do. You should go, you all should. I'll be fine, whatever happens', he seemed confident enough.
'Com'on, man, I can't be in two places at once...' Miles acted worried. 'Plus, I gotta whizz and am dying for a smoke.'
Vince, however, just waved at him to go.
'Smoke sounds good', Potter said, jumping off stage and heading out. Mingus gestured that he'd tag along, but for obvious reasons his steps lingered somewhat in following Potter outside.
'Trane and I will go tune the rust off our instruments and practice them harmonies some more', Dixon mentioned, looking rather spirited and unfatigued by the deep nighttide hours.
'I'm going to go feed my Tamagotchi', said Hiromi.
Fletcher had already chased Neyman back to the practice room to improve on those rolls and tempi. The Host and Socky consulted in private on who it would be best to follow along.

It was now once again time for


In which Vince Guaraldi did just that. As for what he watched this time, let's just say it was a fairly obvious best-loved pick of his...



Mingus and Potter went outside the Auditorium, on the side of the back stage entrance, and it was pouring with rain outside. Luckily the top of the fire escape stairs, above said entrance, provided decent enough shelter for the time being. To their surprise, the Host also showed up, a few minutes after, in the mood for some time out.
'Do you reckon everything will be alright', Potter inquired, but the Host just shrugged and warmed himself up wrapping his coat tighter.
'We've made it thus far', reflected Mingus. 'We'll get to the bottom of it, alright. Trust in Mingus is all we can ask for in any situation', he then boasted.
'Huh', Potter shortly lipped. 'Hey, how 'bout we try some good stuff, for a change?' he then asked, reaching for his bag of doo bee doobie doo in the pocket of his jacket. 'Care for some, maestro?' he invited the Host.
'Hmm, I dunno', the Host hesitated. 'The last time I did that, it was days before having to play in a concert, and then I ended up with some mild heart issues, as if my arteries had gone off-beat. I could never tell if it was from what I had or from stressing out for the concert.'
'M'yeah, performances can have a strong effect on you', Potter got introspective. 'The sheer fulfilling sensation itself of playing jazz is what I strive for every time, and if there's something really missing in these rehearsals here, it's this kind of freedom, to find the right feeling...' He whiffed some more before going on. 'Did I tell you already the story of the man playing jazz in a boat every sunset? Man, it must have been a few summer ago, when the missus and I were on holiday, somewhere by the seaside in the Mediterranean, and every time we'd have a chatter with the locals or ask for peculiar happenings, they'd tell us that we have to go in the harbor to see the man who plays jazz in a boat every sunset. And we did do that one evening, finding him standing up in a small boat, which was softly carried by the waves, and blowing tunes with his sax, just as the sun was getting swallowed up in the distant horizon... He was playing balls, no doubt, but there was so much naturalness in what he was doing, considering that he must have done it for the thousandth time by then, the same way every day, and it looked like he was feeling at large...' Potter paused to chuckle and spit up under the weight of the smoke clouds he exhaled. 'At large, get it...?'
'Ah, the sunset...' Mingus wondered. 'Beauty is a rare thing, as our late Coleman would use to say... And if there's any music that can beseem the beauty of the sunset, it has to be the music of...'
'Mingus... we know...' the Host cut him off there. 'By the by, Potter, you're not dying right now, if that's what your great speech was all about...'
'Oh', said Potter.
The three men then sat quietly for a few more minutes, sheltered from the storm, contemplating...


One floor below the concert hall, the walls were vibrating from some intense, relentless ripples of noise, clashes, thuds and pounding. And through them, you could hear the kind of loud voice that could shake you to the very core, as Fletcher could be faintly heard screaming 'Faster!'... 'Faster!!'... 'Don't slow down!'...'Do it!'...'Keep playing!'...'Keep playing!!'...


Vince was amusing himself, as an episode was just about to wrap up, when, again without him sensing anything, a figure reached out its hand towards him.
'Oh, for Pete's sake, Miles!', Vince jumped off his piano chair again and turned around. 'How many goshdarn times must you spook the living...'
The hooded figure didn't look like he had that intention in mind.
'Shit', Vince managed to say before...

===

14.IV.2012

"Such an addendum to E.S.T.'s already unique story feels surprisingly rather like it's not worth it. I'm no fan of posthumous releases and the news of this album certainly didn't change my feelings towards this much. Really now, four years have passed, both Berglund and Östrom have well pursued something else... am I to believe this isn't more than the usual ransack through unreleased material, to then bid it off? This sentiment could perhaps be dismissed, of course, by the fact that it all stems from the same 2007 session as Leucocyte, supposedly being the rest of a double album that E.S. himself contemplated. Alas, my faith in this matter lasted right until the tape started playing the first time, as it really sounds less precious. Surely 301 can't match up...

That being said, two compliments, mainly for the album's finest two epics - for which, it would have indeed been regrettable never to have heard them. 'The Left Lane', with its dandy simple tune, from which the rest that evolves is pure, blissful fantasy. And then 'Three Falling Free Part II', which is simply breathtaking. Besides, compared to how Leucocyte was ending almost in disheartening, noisy suspension and evanescence, here 'The Childhood Dream' fulfills a more natural, tranquil and echoing consolation."


===

The Host and Socky, first to make their way back to the concert hall, met on the stairs. The Host's shot seemed bloodshot and he was slightly giggling to no spoken thought or event in particular.
'Where've you been?' asked Socky.
'Just outside for a bit, tchhee', blurted the Host. 'What about you?'
'Thought I'd go downstairs for a bit to check up on Fleck and Miles... Plus I heard the wildest noises and howls coming from the practice rooms’ zone, but that must have been business as usual.'
'So wait...' the Host suddenly caught on. 'If you left, did Vince remain alone on stage?'
'Well, yeah', answered Socky, 'but I thought you'd return sooner.'
'...oh, no', said the Host nervously.

They found Vince the way every other member were soon enough meant to find him, when they'd return in the concert hall... Leaning over the piano, his hands stretched and boxed inside the sealed body of the instrument. The keys below Vince's waist were painted red, as the liquid was still slowly dripping from where the cleaver had been so unceremoniously planted.

The heinous person had left the portable TV on, though.

Bela Fleck wrote:

Miles Davis wrote:
There's no meta players in this game because it's a sockpuppet game. I see plenty of analysis of players based on their previous games in non-sockpuppet games here. I love meta-analysis, I love to hear meta-analysis of my own play because it's like an instruction book other players write entitled "How To Trick Me Next Time".

well if you like meta games, i will be willing to do it if you play against me. jsut shoot me a pm

A bit lost in the slang here ('if you play against me'?), but I hope that last part will take place after this game concludes.

John Coltrane wrote:@Hosts How many mafia members are there?

Due to the closed setup, I will make no official statement regarding this.

...right?

Fletcher had a hard time pulling the nine remaining bandmates together for another take, but that did by no means imply that he wouldn't hammer away, resorting to the wildest appellatives ever heard by the human ear - stuff that rhymed with "mitch York-wasabe yoshi-burper peak" (directed at "Maroni") or "plucking pimp-nicked dour-vote flexible-tempo beepsheep" (at "Beavis") or "bucking esthetic tansy-sass fruit duck" (at "Dingus") or "matchless limey twining Heidi buck" (at "Beck") - and yelling at everyone to get in their seats and freaking play their part. During the break he brought in a temp core to replace Tito on the drums, a squeaker named Neyman, who looked like he hadn't slept for two days, with his hands dripping red from blisters, yet appearing to want to make an impression nevertheless. Regarding the lack of a vocal component, now that even Miss Holiday had been silenced, Fletcher just said 'Fuck it', adding that the vocals were never the essence of his ensemble and anyone can moan and groan in verse and pitch after a bottle of scotch.

Fleck, of course, had the biggest issues going on with this, his love interest gone at the hands of a cruel torturer, his hatred towards Mingus now boundless, next to whom ironically he was forced to remain seated in formation, his passion and mood for music withered away.
'Mingus', he kept saying. 'Mingus. It's Mingus. It was Mingus. Guys, Mingus did it. Mingus is the last one! Lynch Mingus!'
Nobody really knew whether to treat this as pure obsession, bloodthirst or genuine mistrust. Or both. Meanwhile, Mingus was just standing there, smirking and playing his fingers on the bass, rather like polishing a weapon.
'Why won't Mingus answer me?' Fleck spewed. 'Mingus hasn't said a word, after all that has happened! Mingus!!'
'Mingus is tired of listening to you, fool', Mingus inelegantly rebutted. 'Mingus would rather be listening to Mingus. Mmm.'
'I'm rooting for the Mingus', Coleman approved.
'What for?!’ Fleck wanted to know.
'Mingus is a confirmed jazz player', Coleman offered the answer.
'...Aren't we all?' Coltrane raised his eyebrow.
'I don't know kay', Coleman shrugged.
'If Mingus is Mingus, then who is Mingus?'
'Did you get a concussion brah?' Dixon berated Fleck.
'Was it from... whiplash?' said Neyman and then badumtish'd his own joke. Surprisingly, Fletcher chuckled a bit.
'I wouldn't be surprised if Billie Holiday is bad, tobehonest', Coleman returned to the subject.
'She's... dead, man', Potter stated the obvious.
'Killed!' howled Fleck. 'By Mingus!'
'In that case I have no idea', Coleman shrugged again.
'You're a strange cat, aren't you?' Vince wondered, playing with his whiskers again.
'I like to rather think of myself embodied as a w-'
'Ok, you dockmoppers', Fletcher interrupted this entire babble. 'Let's get back to it. 'Caravan!''

The shape of the take that followed didn't ultimately favor the oddball saxophonist much. The music resonated with swagger, dexterity and forwardness, but at the same time it seemed plagued by some hissing noises, syncope and distorted, dissonant scales. And while Fletcher seemed focused to give Neyman the usual, never satisfied stink eye, the other musicians found Ornette to be very likely the culprit, given his exhibitionist moves and blown up sounds. At the first fist clench on Fletcher's part, Miles was the first to break it down:
'Alright, it has to be Cole over here, he's a complete lunatic and he's clearly messing with our jazz for some time now.'
'Jazz is meant to be messed with, if you know what I mean', disapproved Coleman.
'Oh you can mess with it, alright, God well knows I've tried myself to reach out with the expressions as far as my inner voice would guide my thoughts throughout the hazy ether of sound and style', commented Dixon, 'but that don't mean you can mess with us like that, brother. We should just work together and achieve sum ol' fashioned, funky clean harmony, to reach our goals and be done and free with it, know what I mean?'
'Free is how I do it', said Coleman, 'otherwise it would be too expensive.'
'What are we supposed to do, then, to nail this session once and for all?' asked Vince.
'Something Else!!!!’ gleefully shouted Coleman.
'Are you trying to get yourself lynched or what in darnation are you trying to pull?’ Mingus scowled him.
'I'm pulling a book from my pocket, kay'. And indeed he did, opening the book up to a certain page and starting to read from it:


'Would you believe me that I love Burroughs in an erotic way?' Coleman asked the others as he tossed the book on the floor.
'What are you on, man?' Potter frowned.
'Tenor', said Coleman.
'Ugh', Miles rolled his eyes.
'What?! Since when, I thought I was on tenor', Potter acted startled.
'I got bored of playing alto, kay', Coleman replied casually.
'Ok, that's it', said Miles as he stood up. 'Off with you.'
'Just say who to get rid off, man', Fleck exasperatedly intervened.
'What if we don't get rid of anyone and the bad players will just adjust in time or free themselves in the process?' Coleman suggested.
'Lynch! Lynch! Lynch!' Davis and Mingus chanted.
'Mingus! Mingus! Mingus!' Fleck yelled.
'Oh well, I guess I'm my own enemy', Coleman sighed.

Some of the swing ropes from the previous murder were still dangling up from the ceiling, above the stage, so the players decided they could well make use of them.

===

17.IX.2008

"Now, despite the tone set by this leviathan-shaped epic composition, with its high octane, wildly eliberated, divergent, tempestuous, menacing and bewildering stylisation, Leucocyte is no opaque ouevre, without its diverse respites and change of tones. The piece Jazz, that follows Premonition, quickly proves that, as from the whirlpool of static noise and ash-like sound structures arises a reminiscing and replenishing old-style, fast-paced nu-bop number, so typical of E.S.T. throughout the ages. There's nothing but joyous stamina and swift brilliancy to it. Even the following piece called Still, despite starting off from another mould of murky, grey-area sounds, settles into the slow, sailing rhythm of a ballad, the real surprise being how it gorgeously finds resollution in brighter, major-key vibrations. It's stuff like this, in between the highly eclectic and engaging Premonition and Leucycote suites, that reflects with nostalgia E.S.T.'s vintage trademarks..."

Votes in grey are votes that moved.

Charles Mingus wrote:

Ricochet wrote:

Charles Mingus wrote:A little over five.

No, four is correct.

No it's not, it's three.

I think an hour passing since has achieved that.

Charles Mingus wrote:A little over five.

No, four is correct.

Vince Guaraldi wrote:

Ricochet wrote:^Ahem.

Cut out the first 40 seconds or so and I'd give it a thumbs up.

Lol no my post earlier had nothing to do with that.

Although, now that you mention it, the chorus is actually the part I'm really digging...