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| | The New Yorker: The Critics: Books (Site not responding. Last check: 2007-10-20) |
 | | Jazz imitators are in general extremely sad—the “Dixieland” players in their straw hats trying to play like Louis Armstrong, the ghost big bands, courts without their Counts and Dukes—yet these Sunday Djangoists, like so many others throughout Paris and the world, are somehow not. |
 | | Panassié was independently wealthy, a jazz aficionado, and belonged to the far right, a monarchist absolutist; Delaunay was the neglected son of the great painter Robert and his wife, the designer Sonia, and was a man of the left. |
 | | It was said that Django, a Gypsy in fear for his life at a time when the Nazis were sending Gypsies to the death camps, lived a furtive, frightened life on the fringes of French society, occasionally emerging to cheer his fans by striking his guitar. |
| www.newyorker.com /critics/books?041206crbo_books (3311 words) |
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