Teddy the Toad.

My wife is quick to remind me to lighten up.

Sometimes after reading a few of my posts, about global systems collapse, the rise of authoritarianism or Mark Read's suits which are always one-size too small, she'll say, "George, it's almost Friday. Take your foot off the gas, already. Lay off the gloom. Write something funny, or slight, or uplifting."

I'd love to.

But, damn, funny is hard. I'm much better at misery.

And I've had more practice.

That said, I'm right now about one-third of the way through a book called "The Jazz Men" by Larry Tye. As I've written so often, the story of amerika is the story of race and this book makes that clear. Here's a paragraph from a review of the book in the strictly-paywalled Wall Street Journal that will explain what I mean and just maybe send chills down your spine, if you still have one.

One of my strengths, or weaknesses as a human, is that I turn almost everything I read, hear, taste, smell, and see into fodder for my writing and my profession. While I read The Jazz Men, I'm highlighting passages. Then I go back to the highlights and download recordings mentioned in the book by the people who populate the book. 

It's a good way to learn.

To learn is to be alive.

For the past couple of weeks I've been partnering on a large assignment with my ex-boss from Ogilvy. While I was ECD and Head of Copy, 'S' was Chief Creative Officer. My position was subordinate. He had achieved great advertising fame. And I had to carry a lot of water for S and the agency.

A lot of creative people didn't get along with S. To inspire people he used neither carrot nor stick. He set a standard and you had to meet or surpass it. That was on you. If you took the job seriously you were fine. If you phoned it in, or waited for someone else to step up, you were fricasse.

As I've written in this space before, when you work with or for people better than you it makes sense to keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. I've worked with a handful of geniuses or genius-adjacent people in my life, from my baseball manager from 50 years ago, Mexican League Hall-of-Famer (as a player and a manager) Hector Queztacoatl Padilla (aka Hector Quesadilla) to Amil Gargano, Mike Tesch, Chris Wall, Steve Hayden, Steve Simpson, Errol Morris and Joe Pytka. If you're working with them, and you're not taking notes you're screwing yourself and your future.

This morning, I was thinking about S's style of writing and his style of creative direction and his style of improving things. I am vastly more prolific than S. S has the skill and the distance to nudge my work better. 

I was thinking about that as the song, "Teddy the Toad" as rendered by Count Basie and his Orchestra and writ by Neal Hefti sometime in the 1950s came through my ear buds.

I really don't know anything about music.

But Teddy taught me something about creative direction and S's style. The orchestration is lush. The band is full. There's not  much of Basie in the piece. It's trombones and other brass. But listen. Listen. Particularly after :25, when there's little Basie at all. Listen at least from :50 to 1:20. You'll hear what I mean.

Every 20 notes there's a tinkle.

Basie.

Wit. Pace. Irreverence. Dissonance. A smile.

A sound byte. That's all. 

A touch. Understated.

That makes the piece great.

Elevates it.

Basie.

Creative Direction.

Happy Friday.