Your brain on jazz: a not so sudden realization

I was driving to work the other day and some dumb-ass pulled out in front of me and proceeded to make a right turn about 400 feet up the road, keeping me at about 20 m.p.h. on a 55 speed limit road, all when there was nobody behind me for at least a mile (because that’s how far you can see down this particular road that I drive on every morning). A few years ago, a stunt like that would have made me give you the finger, probably a honk of the horn, and maybe even a flash of the brights. This particular day, I didn't even react, other than to note that I was not reacting to something that would normally have badly pissed me off.

Last year, when we were putting up new blinds and installing hardwood floors throughout the house, I was nervous that things wouldn't turn out well, but I consoled myself with the thought that, if anything didn't work out, we could always buy another solution. Maybe it would be a waste of money, but if it was, so what? It’s just money. So, when one of the new blinds ended up being not quite right, did I storm back to the store and demand a refund? Nope. I just put it up, fixed it as best I could and left it, and will wait for a better solution at some point in the future. It doesn't bother me a bit.

At work, some of the staff have been decorating the office with cheesy pictures, plastic plants and new modular furniture, all in anticipation of the boss’s arrival for a visit this Thursday. In the past, I would rant, make comments, and generally try to undermine their efforts. I would lecture them about how we are running a business, this isn't your house, and quit wasting the company’s money on that junk. Now, I actually helped them hang a bunch of pictures and I assembled their furniture for them. Yes, I made a few comments about my potential bonus being wasted, but nothing biting or acerbic.

As all this has been happening, I stopped and asked myself: What gives? What happened to the driven, obsessive, get-it-right-at-all-costs me that I was so used to? Why am I so calm and why is my short temper now so long (if it exists at all)? In short, what happened to the real me?

I look different, but feel the same.

I think certainly age figures into it. At 50, you begin to see how much closer you are to your mortality as opposed to your nativity. Small things fade away to nothing, big things fade to small things, and life is much easier. But I don’t think that’s all there is to it. I honestly think that listening to jazz and playing the piano with a mind to play jazz music has rewired me. Since taking up jazz seven years ago, I realize that I get excited playing the piano. I’m happy just looking at my baby grand. I’m fascinated by pieces of music I haven’t heard before, or subtleties and nuances in songs I’m well familiar with that I didn't notice before. I don’t just think “cool”, I feel “cool”. Putting on one of my hats makes me look jazzy, and that makes me feel, I don't know. Free, maybe? Music has released me from the tedium of working in a factory and gives me a specific thing to look forward to at the end of each day, whether I’m going to a concert, going to a piano lesson, or just going home to dinner with Wynton Marsalis or Bill Evans playing in the background. Pull out in front of me and slow me down, that’s a few more minutes to explore Milestones or Maiden Voyage. Set me up with some appliance to install or a garage to clean or a bookshelf to build, the iPad and speakers will be Blowin’ the Blues Away, unless I need to Take Five. Decorate the office with some plastic bamboo, and I will forget all about it when I’m looking at the clarinet I’m going to hang on my wall at home. I’m the new Alfred Neuman: What, me worry?

I really believe that jazz has completely changed my brain and the way it works, which in turn has changed my life. If you don’t want to sweat the small stuff, try some Ellington or Basie. Like the guy on that commercial says, “It worked for me!”

My Miles Davis “bucket list” gets Shorter, literally

I've kind of developed this fascination with Miles Davis and a while back, I set my mind to trying to see as many of the living and performing musicians who played with Miles Davis as humanly possible. So many of the greats died so young and so long ago ( I won’t even try to list them). That makes the ones that are still around that much more “valuable” to the current jazz lexicon.

The set up

Certainly, meeting and greeting Herbie Hancock was one of the highlights, and seeing Sonny Rollins fairly limp around on stage while honking his sax brings home the point of how little time is left to see these stars while they are still performing. McCoy Tyner was another one who could barely get on stage, but once he did, performed wonderfully. Chick Corea, on the other hand, still has plenty of energy and musicality left in him, which leads to diverse shows ranging from vibraphone and string accompaniment, to a duet with a banjo. Some other “Miles’ musicians” jazzing around that I have yet to see: Jack DeJohnette, Keith Jarrett, Dave Holland, Ron Carter, Marcus Miller, and John Scofield, among others.

 

Wayne Shorter's axes in front of the CF6. Check out the harp's reflection in the lid. Wow, I'll take it!

The most recent I’m now able to check off the list is Wayne Shorter, who performed some new pieces (I think) from his latest album with a killer quartet consisting of Danilo Perez on piano, Joe Patitucci on bass, and Brian Blade on drums. The quartet was really together but the star of the show, for both Mrs. S and I was Perez, who was playing an awesome Yamaha CF6. I've never heard a brighter, more dynamic piano than that one, and at intermission, I asked the stage manager (or whoever he was, the guy moving Wayne Shorter’s stuff around) what it was, and he kept turning his head so I couldn't hear him, but I did hear him when he said they couldn't get a CFX. That's why I assume the piano was a CF6, the next model down. Whatever. If I ever get a spare $100K, I’ll probably pick one up.

This is the guy who almost told me what kind of piano Danilo was playing

After intermission, the orchestra came on and joined the quartet to play some Shorter arrangements of tunes he wrote for quartet and orchestra, and Esperanza Spalding also came out to sing Gaia and played bass and sang on Midnight in Carlotta’s Hair. I enjoyed the concert fairly well, despite the fact that I would have preferred to hear some of Shorter’s bop and post-bop songs in a more intimate style. I was fairly impressed by Esperanza, too, whose voice has clarity and a soft vibrato that I favor over the more lavish voices of other jazz singers of late. (Carmen McRae comes to mind.)

Ready for the show...

Really the only disappointing thing was the rude Nashville audience. I’ve really been noticing of late that people just don’t appreciate the performing arts the way they should. After about the second song of the second half, there became a steady stream of people leaving the hall. When Esperanza came on, despite her presence making everything a lot more interesting, more and more people got up and walked out. The ones who I wished would walk out, like the couple in front of us (husband drunk and sleepy, wife just sleepy, and the two of them fighting over a bottle of water – don’t ask), kept nodding off and snipping at each other for doing so. They'd've done everyone a favor if they had left.

Still, Wayne Shorter is probably the most prolific living jazz composer, and with the exception of Duke Ellington and Miles Davis (maybe), possibly the foremost jazz composer of all time. The chance to see him live and in concert was truly worth the effort and expense. If I ever get a chance to see him in quartet format again, I will definitely do that.

Didn't even know there was a French single malt, until I drank this one. Sweet! 

Dinner by the way was at Etch, right by the symphony hall. Despite a brief allergic reaction to the Japanese short ribs (something in the oil, maybe?), Mrs. S and I still enjoyed a lovely meal, topped by a glass of single malt whiskey from France. Did that beat all? Yes it did. Nashville, we love you. Now please move 50 miles closer so we don’t have to.

And no night would be complete without some eerie coincidence: The same couple that sat one table over from us at the restaurant sat one table over from us at the concert, too. Hundreds of restaurants in the city, dozens of tables at the restaurant, dozens of tables and hundreds of seats at the concert hall, and they we are. Right next to each other at the same time at two completely separate events. I tell you, the Universe aligns for me, sometimes for a reason, sometimes for none, but at times, it's really weird being me.

Another Night with a Different Jazz Legend

- and follow up photos from the first night with a jazz legend.

Four months removed from the concert where I saw Herbie Hancock perform and got the chance to meet him, it seems much farther away that it really is. I was recalling that night, as it was the first time I got to see a true jazz legend (Pat Metheny, Bill Frisell and Freddie Cole come close, but I wouldn’t consider them “legends” yet) in concert. It was not, however, my last.

On Friday night, Mrs. S and I made our way to Nashville to take in a concert featuring Sonny Rollins. This guy is ten years older than Herbie is, and he blows on a horn, so, yes, some of the edge is gone, but, wow! What a concert.

Here’s the stage set-up:

Schermerhorn Symphony Center stage, October 14, 2011, Nashville TN

He started off with a highly rhythmic original, B & K, moving smoothly into D. Cherry. He plays very solidly, moving around the stage slowly and calculatingly, which was good, because I would not have had a clue what to do if he passed out or, heaven forbid, fell off the stage. Then he took on a true jazz standard, My One and Only Love. That got a great reaction from the crowd, and I was happy to be able to listen to his take on a song I was vaguely familiar with (although I couldn’t think of the name of the tune to save my life). Then he did his trademark Patanjali followed by Nice Lady. Then he played to the crowd a little with Tennessee Waltz, followed by another recognizable standard, They Say It’s Wonderful. He closed out the show with Don’t Stop the Carnival, coming in at just about 90 minutes with no encore. That he played that long was amazing enough.

Sonny’s a truly class act and the music was unbeatable. The bass solo by Bob Cranshaw was one of the most remarkable solos I’ve ever heard, and the drum and conga duet “solo” was stunning. The guitar player was asked to keep one or two of his solos going longer than intended, so they did seem a little rambling at times, but there was nothing at all bad about them. His playing, and that of the entire supporting band’s, was phenomenal.

Unfortunately, as good a shape as Sonny is for his age, there was no autograph session or meet and greet or anything like that. So, here’s a picture of me receiving an autograph from Herbie Hancock back in June:

Herbie Hancock signing Eric's copy of "The Imagine Project"

And here’s me, Herbie and Mrs. S enjoying a group shot.

L to R: Eric, Herbie, Mrs. S (in case there was some doubt)

 Yep, I’m late to jazz, but catching up.

A Night with a True Jazz Legend

Wednesday June 1 found me and Mrs. S once again in Birmingham AL, to attend a jazz concert at the Alys Stephens Center for the Arts. We sure spend a lot of time there for it being over a one and a half hour drive from our house. But when a guy like Herbie Hancock is performing in your neck of the woods, 90 minutes seems a pretty reasonable drive. As part-time patrons with dedicated front row seats, it’s hard to pass on an opportunity like this, so naturally, we also signed up for the VIP “Meet & Greet” package for our chance to meet the legend and possibly have a few photos taken and get a few CD’s signed. Imagine our surprise then when one of the event coordinators told us that his contract did not allow for either. (Turns out he did both.)

So come time for the concert and it’s mostly empty seats, but they filled up pretty quickly and the show started maybe only ten minutes late. Herbie’s drummer comes out and he starts right into a funky syncopated riff that I couldn’t see how he could keep going but that he did and never missed on. The bass player wandered on stage and it took him about thirty seconds to get to his five string axe, attach the strap, and get it settled before laying a line down on top of the drums. So, they’re on the right hand side of the stage, wailing, and I’m all caught up in the beat when out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of glittering orange, and there’s this tiny old guy moon walking toward the keyboard pit. (Yes, moon walking!)

And the crowd goes wild!

And those turned out to be the two main themes of the night: a little old dude who should be laid out on a recliner or playing bingo somewhere, funkin’ it up on a piano, computerized synth, and a keytar, and a bunch of people screaming at him as he does so. Which is also what got me: Here’s a guy who released an album in every one of the last six decades, has more than fifty albums of material to choose from, is over seventy years old, can do anything he wants musically and professionally, and if he was taking it easy and swinging through a quiet version of “Watermelon Man” or letting some singer take the lead on one of his compositions while he sleepwalks (instead of moon walks) through the comps and a canned solo, everyone would still be appreciative and crazy, but instead, he’s out there with a freaking keytar, jumping around like a four-year old with a squirt gun on the first day of summer as he bangs away on “Actual Proof” or “Chameleon”. What’s going on?

I’ll tell you what: Herbie Hancock is going on. And on, and on, and on. No wonder his latest album involves musicians of eleven different nationalities singing in seven different countries recorded in four different studios. When you’ve done as much music as Herbie, that’s the only way you can get to something new and fresh. Stunning.

Honestly, the concert made me dizzy and I don’t think it was from the drive and the stifling 95-degree heat. Herbie did mostly new stuff from his Imagine Project recording, which I have a hard time classifying as jazz but which I enjoy immensely. I was especially psyched when he and his two man band and one woman singer did my favorite track from the work, Tamatant Tilay/Exodus. Everything else he played, he played as funky as possible, spending probably 40% of his stage time on his Roland keytar. His piano, a Fazioli concert grand, didn’t sound real. His playing sounded fresh, whimsical, and inspirational. Somehow. The supporting band members were solid musically and just, everything was great. Words escape me.

Our signed copy of "The Imagine Project"

The meet and greet session started  frightfully stiff. Only one guy seemed truly comfortable talking with Herbie, and they started talking about, like, Herbie’s third album, released the year after I was born. It was sort of electric just hearing Herbie say the name, "Miles Davis".  Anyway, to get things moving,  the coordinator jumped in and made everyone get their pictures out of the way so Herbie wouldn’t spend the whole night standing around with our lot. When I went up to meet him, I had him sign our copy of his latest, The Imagine Project, and we took two photos before Mrs. S joined in. Then he spent the rest of the time chatting her up. Later, when Herbie was done with the photos, he wandered over to the fruit tray, where Mrs. S and I were, so we talked a little bit more and Mrs. S had him sign our copy of “Maiden Voyage”. (I like his signature. He writes so you can actually read his name. See above and below.) I literally had a whole stack to be signed, but we were being reserved since we were told right out of the gate that he wouldn’t be doing that.

Our signed copy of "Maiden Voyage"

After he’d had a few pieces of fruit, he looked around for something to say and do, but the coordinators gave him the go ahead, so he waved, and was gone. He’s a very nice, personable, agreeable gentleman. He’s small, but his hands are firm and supple. His smile is bright and his eyes even brighter. He doesn’t move fast and his hair is thinning, but he’s genuine, real, meticulous, and true to his songs when it comes to his music. I think top to bottom, meeting Herbie Hancock was one of the most satisfying and valuable experiences I’ve had in my short four year jazz career. I may have been late to jazz, but I’m catching up fast.

What to do the day after Herbie Hancock's 70th birthday

Listen to Cantaloupe Island.

A jazz DVD: In review

A different version of this review is also available on amazon.com. (Check out the link to the right.)

I watched the movie " 'Round Midnight" last night. It's about a fictional jazz saxophonist who goes to Paris to rediscover his music and get his career and life back on track. Dexter Gordon, one of my favorite saxophonists, does an admirable job in the role of the main character, Dale Turner. Herbie Hancock, who plays in the backing band on screen, did the sound track, and it is awesome. Of course, when you're a Grammy winner and have Grammy winning material that you can throw in here and there at will, it is bound to make any sound track jam, and I really liked being able to catch licks of Watermelon Man and Cantaloupe Island here and there in the background. When the band plays, the likes of Freddie Hubbard and Bobby Hutcherson and Pierre Michelot, among others, play the roles of the musicians, so I assume they played on most of the sound track as well. Whatever, because they are real musicians, the band scenes come off real well. I appreciate a movie about music that sees to the details enough to get actual musicians as actors, not only for the extra dimension it gives to the artist, but also for the dose of realism it lends to the setting and action. (I hate when the drummer or pianist isn't playing what you're hearing on screen. It ruins a movie for me when something as minor as that is so sloppy, especially when there are all kinds of devices to make it look realistic, even without hiring musicians as actors.)

Really, the only thing wrong with the movie is that because it is a work of fiction based on some things that happened to a number of different musicians, it failed to engage me and I just didn't care about the tragedy that befell the characters. I mean, about halfway through, when the French guy is trying to appeal to the Dexter Gordon character to straighten up and fly right, he says, "Your music changed my life." What? "His music?" Who is he? He's played nothing but standards, and as good as the playing was and the sound track is, if that was enough to change your life, well buddy, I'd've hate to have met you before you discovered his music. To be fair, I wouldn't have appreciated a biopic of a real jazz musician, and that wasn't what I was expecting, but I think there needed to be some more story development in order to make us care about the people on screen. You know, in the '60's, famous jazz musicians were dropping like flies every other month because of being done in by their vices. (Yes, that's an exaggeration, but you know what I mean.) So what if it happens to some guy in a movie?

Still, the good outweighs the bad. Herbie's sound track is great and Dexter Gordon is the best jazz musician-actor ever to hit the big screen. He's real and intelligent, and that is just enough to make me feel like I didn't waste my time watching this movie.

Progress on Maiden Voyage: A Report

Had another hour-long piano lesson last night. With only one week of practice between two, one-hour lessons, it was rough going, but still quite productive. We spent most of the time on A Child is Born, not only because I can actually play it, but because its intricacies are more varied and subtle. After all, it is a relatively simple ballad with several multi-bar phrases that repeat over and over, so it is challenging for the pianist to come up with something sonically interesting every time a similar bar comes along. We listened to the original and analyzed, played it through, listened, played again, so that almost half the lesson was on that song. Then we moved to MV.

Thankfully, my instructor knows my limits, so I was relieved when he realized I probably wasn't going to be able to play it then and there after just one week, calling it, "Oh yeah, our project." If I get lucky, I can play the intro in correct rhythm, but with my instructor behind me tapping to try and help me, I don't get lucky. I get confused. And of course, with that tricky rhythm, I can't possibly make the melody go, so, while pieces and bits are more or less tangible and useful, it only vaguely resembles the song that Herbie Hancock wrote. The good news, is that I did gain some insight and should be able to spend the next two weeks, which includes (for me) a five-day weekend, practicing enough to actually put everything together. We shall see in our next report.

The rest of the lesson consisted of a quick run-through of Falling in Love With Love, which I play Helen Merrill-ish, which is to say, schmaltzy and in the wrong time signature. (It's a 3/4 that I play in a quick 4/4 or slow 2/4, depending on if you're an optimist or pessimist). And, we did a quick blow-through of Ornithology, which has got to be the trickiest song I've attempted so far, but which, once I can play it, will be one of the gems of my repertoire, I'm sure.

One upshot: All that work on ACIB has made me leave Thad Jones in the CD player all week, further justifying its move into the number one position on the Yoity Tot list.

Voyage on the Maiden

Well, let me first say that practice does pay off. I had a rather productive piano lesson last night, an hour long to make up for missing last week, but none of the time wasted and lot of pertinent discussion and practice on my playing at its current state. We talked about block chords, easing movement in the left hand, diminished chords, relevant minor chords, ...oh, many things. Even more to the point, we've got a road map for next week's lesson, which will also be an hour long, and it involves a lot of different themes and skills while working on Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage.

I recently purchased the CD of Maiden Voyage, and while I was unimpressed at first, I've been pleasantly surprised as the CD has grown on me. The title track itself I have always liked, and I think that while the MV voicings have become overused almost to the point of cliche, for a new pianist like myself, they lay a foundation of tonality that is easy to build on, because the chords range over a good portion of the register and include a seventh and what amounts to (I guess) some kind of suspended chord. What I mean is, the chords are really only useful in one context (playing Maiden Voyage and songs that sound like that), but in that context, they are extremely useful and reliable. (Of course.)

Because bashing out chords is, however, so one dimensional and not all that much fun and only improves one aspect of my playing, we also decided to try a different sort of Parker lick, so I'm going to have a go at Ornithology this week. I'm pretty sure I've got a recording of it around, pretty sure on one of my newer CD purchases, so I'm going to have at it pretty good this week. I mowed the grass Tuesday and don't have any plans for this weekend, and Mrs. S has a few things going on that she will be out of the house here and there, so this should be a big practice week for me and I hope to report a lot of progress between now and next Thursday when I run down next week's lesson in this spot. The only thing that will take some time away from practice is going through my CD collection and updating my list of songs that I have recordings for so I can listen and play along if necessary. That is not easy to maintain with the number of CD's I've been purchasing and what with trying to write reviews about them on amazon.com and, obviously, listen to them.

And something a bit off the track: We've had a traffic light installed at the entrance to our subdivision. There've been some accidents (a fatal one a month ago) and a lot of close calls, and the soccer moms on their cell phones can barely get in and out as it is, so the city deemed they deserved some help. I was against the light because I saw the issue to be more one of lack of driving skill than of needing to control traffic, but after two days, I now see this is a great advantage for me. Since I turn right coming out in the morning and left going in in the evening, I was required to make a stop (at the stop sign) coming out before I could go right, and could proceed if there was no traffic, else I had to wait for it. Coming home, I could proceed right through (turning left) if there was no traffic, but would often have to wait a while for traffic, or worse, for some dumbass to make a turn in front of me. Now, in the morning, if I'm coming out and the light is with me, I get to proceed right through and if it isn't, I'm no worse off than I was before, stopping, waiting for traffic, and then pulling out. So that's a plus. Coming back, I have it even better: I may have to stop for traffic, in which case after a while, I get an arrow, but if I'm lucky and there's no traffic, I can proceed right through any way. I can't see how I lose, other than the occasional time when I would have gone right through but I have to wait because somebody is pulling out and has the right of way. Say I save five minutes a week because of the light, that's over four hours of extra piano practice time a year! Groovy!

Meandering musings on things jazz

I had an occasion to listen to some live jazz music this weekend, but for various reasons, I was not able to take advantage of the opportunity. Instead, I was mostly stuck at home, and it provided me an opportunity to delve into a few of the new CD's I purchased for my rapidly growing collection. One that I listened to the most is one of the most classic of jazz classics: A Love Supreme by John Coltrane. I hardly know what to make of it. It went by so fast the first time, I felt sure it wasn't the 28 (?) minutes it said it was, so I listened to it again, back to back. Again, it seemed to me that the first track (listed at 7+ minutes) wasn't more than two minutes long. So, either the CD is altering the space time continuum, the liner notes are wrong, or it's just so good, you can't feel the time go by. It was weird, actually. I swear I thought maybe I passed out or somehow skipped one or two of the tracks or something. I guess ultimately, forgetting about time is what jazz (and all music, really) is all about. That, and waking up in the morning, going, (in a really really deep voice) "A love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme..."

After Coltrane, I put on Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage. The title track is really the only song on there that I like, but I'm going to write about that recording some other time.

Then this morning I was listening to volume two of Jay Jay Johnson, and that freaked me out for a simpler, less supernatural reason. I've been listening to a lot of trumpet music lately, and I was struck by how smooth Johnson is on the trombone that it sounded, in its phrasing, more like a trumpet than a trombone. Of course, he's not doing anything crisp and jumpy like Clifford Brown or Fats Navarro would, but on Old Devil Moon, I found his phrasing to be remarkably lively and similar to Mel Torme's, enough so that I wonder if Mel might not have been listening to Johnson before he stepped into the studio to make his Swings Shubert Alley recording.

And, over the weekend, I read about Louis Armstrong's recording of West End Blues, which will be 80 years old this Friday. I'll write about that later this week, I suppose.

I stopped practicing half-diminished chords because that wasn't going all that well. Instead, I decided just to do diminished sevenths with the bass note as the lowest note around the circle of fifths. Even that was not easy. I have a lot of basic things I need to work on, and with an hour long lesson coming up this week, I'm going to get my instructor to give me some ideas of what to work on - specifically. I thought there would be some kind of diminished chord exercises in one of my jazz chord workbooks, and I was surprised to find there was not. Now I'm thinking that such a thing might exist and I need to find it for my own benefit. Then I remembered, that's what my instructor is for. Teamwork.

Interconnectivity

I suppose what has had me going all this time is the obvious and extensive interconnectedness of the jazz world. While I don't consider it particularly unusual that record companies would release the exact same recording under two (or more) different names, I am aggravated by how hard it is to find out that information. Yes, one could, I suppose, go through the playlist of every CD one is considering purchasing to see if it matches the playlist of a CD one already owns. That would be a start. And while I can't really imagine a scenario where two CD's would have a playlist of, say, five songs exactly the same name but different versions, I have seen CD's that have different playlists (slightly) but which are, in fact, the same recording. Confusing.

I think that is what makes the jazz world so unique. I mean, Bruce Springsteen and Madonna and Hall and Oates might team up to make a recording of a song or two, wherever and whenever there' s a dollar to be had or a benefit to attach one's image to, but you'll never hear Madonna sing on a Bruce Springsteem album and you'll never hear Eric Clapton playing guitar for Green Day, or something like that. But you will hear Clifford Brown playing for Helen Merrill. And Sarah Vaughn. And Art Blakey. And Jay Jay Johnson. And, and, and... Certain guys were everywhere. One could be forgiven for thinking that in the golden heyday of jazz, say the 1950's and 1960's, there were only about 150 people playing jazz music. I mean, seriously. This is probably why I missed the jazz boat. "Do you like Miles Davis, man?" "No, I don't dig that stuff, man." Well, guess what? Miles Davis made, like, a thousand albums a month back then, so if you throw him out of consideration, you've just thrown out a major portion of the music being made at that time. That, at least partially, is what happened to me, I guess. Anyway.

Since I've purchased 16 CD's in just the past three weeks (it will be a while before I get any more now, unless a big discount on something in my wishlist shows up on Amazon.com or e-bay), I've got them all piled in one place where I've been reading about them in my recordings guide, reading through the liner notes, and of course, listening to them. And it was last night as a bunch of Blue Note recordings came together that I noticed they had a lot of the same artists' names on them. Watch me as I go full circle here:

-McCoy Tyner plays piano on John Coltrane's Love Supreme along with Elvin Jones
-Elvin Jones plays drums on Wayne Shorter's Speak No Evil with Herbie Hancock on piano
-On Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage, Ron Carter plays bass
-Ron Carter also plays bass on Wayne Shorter's Speak No Evil, with Freddie Hubbard on trumpet
-Freddie Hubbard also plays trumpet on Herbie's Maiden Voyage (ooh, that's one circle right there)

... and okay, I made my point. But I could go on and on if I wanted to do some research. (And some day I will.)

Again, I'm not saying any of this is bad or good or whatever. And now that I understand it and have had an opportunity to explore it somewhat, I think the chances of my continuing to duplicate CD purchases is pretty slim, unless I do so intentionally to get a different, or better, version of something I know I like. (Helen Merrill comes to mind.) Someday, when I have the time and the technology, I'm going to construct a massive timeline or "connectivity map" that conveniently illustrates all this interconnectedness, making it easier for the jazz fan to understand who goes where and what are the likely locations for having overlap in a CD collection, due to all these musicians playing and singing on each other's recordings. Today, I merely note it for convenience and future subject matter consideration (and reader comments?).