Down at the 90th floor

To tell you the truth I don't listen to much music anymore. I don't know why. When I do rediscover it, like I have the last couple of days, I gorge on it in every flavor, Led Zepplin, Nelly, Vivaldi.

So Mom and I were talking about music, and our favorite singer and the fate of the only album she had. We carried that album all over the world. I recorded a scratchy tape of it in Scotland when I was 20 and would listen to it over and over. Somehow, somewhere, the album ended up in the trunk and overheated. By that I mean, it turned into one of those marvelous bowls you see now in trendy shops, before it was a trend. Mom was furious at me.

We kissed Dick and Kiz Harp goodbye and still tried to listen to them now and them on the old cassette. My mom and her beau would go the The 90th Floor club in Dallas in the 60's. I grew up listening to Kiz Harp's singing. I even thought of legally changing my name to Kiz when I was mid-20's. You will notice my nom de plume sometimes "Kiz Miller, orginally, Kiz Million" .

I told mom this morning, I wonder if Kiz Harp has made it to the internet. And they have. There is great archived segment about them on WFIU if you are interested in hearing their story and listening to the husband and wife jazz team make their magic. I might have to surprise mom with this for Christmas, make up for the one I destroyed so many years ago. Everything old is new again, although, I don't think fabulous jazz singers ever go out of fashion