Something worth reading

I read about jazz every chance I get, so when I was offered a review copy of pianist Fred Hersch’s memoir, Good Things Happen Slowly, I gladly accepted. What follows is an edited version of a review I posted on Amazon.

Prior to reading this book, I was only vaguely aware of Fred Hersch and his accomplishments, and then, mainly only his work as a record producer. To find out that he is an accomplished pianist, composer, advocate of various causes, coma survivor, and now a writer, was a real revelation. Early in his career, he played with a lot of jazz luminaries who unlike Mr. Hersch, were late in their careers. Those nostalgic kinds of stories about late jazz legends are always enjoyable, especially for the perspective they give about bygone jazz eras. I was also interested to learn that he is a fellow Ohioan who is close to my age. So even though I do not share his sexual orientation, which drives a number of his storylines – and obviously, portions of his life – I found his tales highly relatable and not entirely without correlation in my own life. That sort of thing always makes for good reading.

I will say, however, that Mr. Hersch is not the best writer. What was really surprising is, I thought that the main thing lacking from his prose was rhythm. He just chooses too many goofy, not completely accurate words, so when the narrative starts bouncing around, there was a tendency to get lost and lose the entire track of the narrative. Then I would have to go back and reread passages to piece the story back together. It’s just like playing in a jazz combo, too, in that when the rhythm isn’t there, the musicians tend to make bad decisions. I think that is why his word choice was not always correct, where what he wanted to say was somehow conveyed, but in a convoluted or “out of rhythm” fashion. He also drove me crazy calling a cello a ‘cello. I thought that was just plain obstinate, especially because it wouldn’t have been much of an issue except he has worked with a lot of ‘cellists who play ‘cello.

The book will be on sale September 12, 2017.

For the most part, I enjoyed this book, but it was a bit dark and melancholic at times, maybe even morose. Just the same, Mr. Hersch has certainly led an unusual, and at times charmed, life. If his writing was as good as his music, this book would have been a lot better, but it’s still a good look at an interesting corner of the jazz world.

Composer’s Studio: The Resurrection

A couple years back, I set about buying a piano, which required me to not only think about space, but to actually organize it. At the time, I had a notion to turn our smallest room into a compact and efficient studio. Put my digital piano in next to my computer, have all my musical accoutrements in the near vicinity, install some music software, put all my nice instruments in a separate room with my grand piano, and I’d have anefficient little composer’s space. Its nativity was right on plan.

Who wants to write a song here?

Then I started getting more involved in online reviewing, and products started to roll in. Pretty soon, my composer’s space had deteriorated into a miniature Amazon warehouse. It was good to have the delineated space for tax purposes and for keeping some of the clutter out of the house, but it was bad for composing, of which I did none. Something had to change.

Before the junk

After the junk

The first thing I did was cut back on the reviews and declutter. That at least gave me some ground to recover the space. With the addition of a dedicated music making computer and some MIDI controllers, however, I was soon recompacted into my tiny space. It was then we decided to sell the pool table and use the billiard room as a studio.

View of the future studio from the top of the stairs

Unfortunately, the billiard room was essentially unused for about ten years, other than to store boxes and gizmos Mrs. S and I had lost (or never had) interest in. That meant it needed refurbishing – wall repair, new switch and socket covers, a paint job, a working toilet, usable furniture – before it could be used as a studio.

View of the future studio back toward the stairs

That’s where we are now. The contractors – a plumber, an electrician, a painter – arrive Monday. Also arriving Monday is the nascence of my new composer’s studio.

Visiting my piano’s birthplace

Yamaha's Kakegawa piano factory

Not long before Christmas, Mrs. S and I made our way over to Taiwan and Japan for a bit of vacationing, catching up with family, and eating beef-and-rice bowls (among many other Japanese foods we can’t get in Alabama). I didn’t particularly want to go, but when a dirt-cheap plane ticket came available, I was compelled to make the trip. Mrs. S wanted to know what I wanted to do there, but I had no agenda, so she came up with the idea of visiting the Yamaha piano factory in Kakegawa, near Hamamatsu, as another enticement to keep me on the trip.

In front of the one time home of my piano that now lives in Alabama

The factory is not easy to get to, but like most of Japan, it isn’t particularly hard to get to, either. Getting that far off the beaten track somewhere north of Nagoya was interesting, to say the least. It was actually harder to find a place to eat lunch than it was to visit the factory.

One of the nicer looking pianos in the lobby

Prior to the start of the tour, there is a large reception area with one or two of every musical instrument that Yamaha makes, plus about ten different pianos. There were even two concert grands in an isolation room, one of which was the one-millionth piano ever made by Yamaha. I spent a while playing that, trying to feel like the great pianist, Richter, for whom it was basically custom made. Needless to say, my halting renditions of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” and “Maple Leaf Rag” did not do much to promote those feelings.

Perspective skewed by the camera makes the piano look about five feet long...

...but it's much, MUCH longer than that (almost ten feet).

I wasn't kidding: their one millionth piano. Numbers guy me loves that.

The tour is a conducted affair that takes about an hour and a half. They do give English tours, but ours was in Japanese. We were one of two couples, joined by a small eight or ten person group of (possibly?) music students. The tour starts with two videos where they show you the “3K” parts of piano production, 3K translating from Japanese into the 3D: dirty, difficult, and dangerous. So, we didn’t actually see any tree cutting, wood fabricating, hardware casting, painting, or frame assembly. After the videos, the guide took her time showing us whippens, hammers, felt, and things like that, which I had seen plenty of when I took my square grand apart. The factory was all about pin and string insertion, action assembly and adjustment, and tuning.

Some other pianos that could be tried out

For me, there were two particularly impressive things. First was the sheer number of people they have working on pianos. Of course, anyone who has worked on a piano knows how labor intensive it is, but the point is really driven home when you see how many people are working on the very mundane, but meticulous tasks of piano adjustment. The other thing was, Yamaha doesn’t make all of one piano at a time. If you stand at the top of one of the production lines and look down, you can see that the pianos are (mostly) all different sizes (lengths). It is not uncommon to see a couple G1’s or G2’s, some C1’s, C7’s and C5’s, and never see two in a row the same size. It’s actually kind of disconcerting. Not surprisingly, the parts racks are meticulously labeled and mixed all together. It’s kind of unbelievable.

Some boxes to test different string types

The tour culminates in a listening room where there are three identical pianos that each sound completely different from the other two. The guide played a bit of Fur Elise on them, and the differences were hardly subtle and quite noticeable. Again, for three identical pianos to come off the line within a few days (hours?) of each other and yet sound so different, it really makes a statement about the craftsmanship that goes into each piano. Truly remarkable. We also each received a keychain made from an authentic piano hammer embossed with the Yamaha logo. It was nice that Mrs. S and I both got one, so we can use one and keep the other clean and safe as a trip memento.

"Been there, done that, in their anniversary year" photo

It seems highly likely that I will never buy another acoustic piano, given how well my C1-X holds tune and how I will probably never live in a house larger than the one I’m in now. But I do know that if I do buy one, it will come from this factory. I owe it to myself to get the best possible musical instrument, and that is what the Kakegawa factory makes. I saw that for myself.

Our souvenirs.

Speaking of Grammy winners

I actually had some more dealings with another Grammy winner prior to my visit to New Orleans (where I met Grammy winner, Irvin Mayfield). The pianist Laura Sullivan released her latest album a little while ago, a lush recording of moving, delicate, and inspiring pieces, more in the line of easy listening or New Age than the traditional jazz that Mr. Mayfield is all about. Here’s a light reworking of my review of Ms. Sullivan’s latest work:

This is my second CD by Laura Sullivan, and although I am a jazz musician and blogger, I enjoy listening to different types of music, including Ms. Sullivan’s work. It brings back memories of years ago when I was enamored of Enya, Dream Academy, and Clannad and was making my own soothing sounds and songs in my small but versatile studio.

Cover and CD, both signed.

It is a joy to listen to this recording. Laura has broken some new ground and is moving in a subtly different direction by focusing on her piano composing and playing. The backing to her piano work is lush and complex, soothing at times, and pushing the music forward at others. Personally, I would have preferred if there was actually a bit less instrumentation, simply because I was getting a little frustrated with having to pick out the piano lines from all the other stuff that was going on with some of the tracks. I feel that her piano playing is one of her strong points, and I wanted to hear it a little more. As a jazz musician, I just found some of the effects and accompaniment distracting from the heart of the music. Fortunately, the production (by Laura’s husband, Eric Sullivan) is clean, crisp, and technically efficient. The songs are pretty and well-conceived and even when it is slightly overdone, the instrumentation still breathes some spirit and energy into the thematic elements of the songs. As the music flows, the distractions fade and the melody surfaces, calm and reassuring.

I guess my musical sensibilities just aren’t what they used to be, but I still know good music when I hear it. Laura Sullivan is one artist who is truly making good music, whether I get a signed free copy of her CD or not.

Reading that makes me play

I just finished reading a biography of Thelonious Monk by Robin Kelley, a very serious and enlightening look at one of the greatest jazz artists who ever lived who I didn’t know was one of the greatest jazz artists who ever lived. I say that because, of course, anybody who knows anything about jazz knows about Monk, but for me, he was just one of those guys who wasn’t worth approaching. I suppose I was “contaminated” by reading an article about the great pianist Dick Hyman (who I do respect and admire) who said something in a Wall Street Journal piece like, “I don’t appreciate Monk. His music doesn’t sound right and I think most of the time he’s just hitting wrong notes.” That kind of embodied how I felt and I didn’t think I was missing anything by giving Monk’s music short shrift.

The subtitle says it all.

As I was reading Mr. Kelley’s book, however, some things about Monk started to make sense. I started to see what kind of person he was and how that could lead to him being ignored, or overlooked, or even ridiculed. Then too, Mr. Kelley does a great job of illustrating the formulation and evolution of a lot of Monk’s work, and it caused me to revisit some of the tunes. And whaddaya know? Here I am almost ten years down the beginner’s jazz blog road, and things I never understood started making sense.

I can’t really cite specific examples but I can say this, when I read about a song and then the next day pulled out the lead sheet and started to play it, suddenly Monk seemed not only approachable, it seemed like playing his music was helping me achieve things I could not before that point. It’s hard to put clearly, but, I started to see how Monk is more or less the next level I need to go to. But what that really means is, if you can play Monk on Monk’s level, I started to feel like I could probably play anything.

Haven't found any Miles Davis beer yet. I'll buy it and drink it if I do.

Now, I’m not suggesting that if I work out all the changes to Epistrophy, I’ll be able to zing my way through Ellington, or Coltrane, or Hancock, or anybody. What I’m saying is, Epistrophy is harder to play, harder to understand musically, and harder to make sound good than just any old song, so if you reach the pinnacle on Epistrophy, you must be doing something right.

Ruby, My Dear is a good example. Here’s a song that once upon a time, I could play pretty decently in an ensemble format. I could solo over the changes and make it sound Monkish, and I knew what the song was making me do harmonically to make it sound good. Now that I’m playing that song in solo piano format from a book of Monk transcriptions, I’m finding what I learned before did not much prepare me for what I’m playing now. Again, it’s very hard to put into words.

The long and short of it is, Kelley’s biography isn’t supposed to make you better piano player, but in my case, that’s exactly what it has done. It’s broadening my musical interest and bringing me back to vast swaths of the jazz landscape that I’ve never bothered to visit. I truly believe that learning to play Monk tunes is going to help me play piano more and better.  We’ll see.

Of course, having finished the book (check out my review on Amazon) and being now embarked on reading Miles Davis’ autobiography, I may feel different as I progress through that. Then again, I can and do play a host of Miles tunes, whereas I don’t have one from Monk that I can call my own. Yet. That and the fact the Miles can’t write like Mr. Kelley can may well leave my Monkish attentions unaffected. Again, we’ll see.

One of my latest, greatest helpers

As a jazz musician whose talents only take him so far, and as readers of this blog will know, I’m constantly reading and thinking about jazz to help my musicianship along. Last year I read Ted GIoia’s The History of Jazz and while I was more than impressed by his look into the history of America’s music, I was particularly taken by the extensive discography to which he made continual reference. After all, if you are going to understand music, even if it is only from a historical perspective, sooner or later you are going to have to listen to it for yourself.

 

Read for yourself, then listen (or play) for yourself.

That’s what makes this book, Mr. Gioia’s latest work (I think), one of his best to date: it’s extensive discography. And because this is all about a solid core of jazz standards, the information is something that any jazz musician will be able to use at some point. Every song has between five and ten recordings listed for listening and research into the nuances and hidden meanings of the songs, not to mention alternative interpretations and styles. It not only reads like a jazz musician’s hall of fame, it reads like a biological listing of family, genus, and species of the recordings for understanding the very evolution of the song. Even better, the book is indexed by song, composer and performer, so however you decide to come at a song, the author has provided you the resources you need to choose your own angle of approach.

After finishing this book, something that occurred to me is that I should have been taking some notes. At some point, I sort of noticed that the index would help me cross reference recordings and performers, but I really should have been making a list of stuff to look for and recordings to Google or buy. Now, if I’m going to get serious about a song or recording, I’m going to have to go back and research it. There are worse things, I suppose, but I could have used my time more efficiently.

I guess I’ll just have to read this book again, and I guess that will happen sooner, rather than making me even later to jazz.

Are you inspired?

It’s a simple question, but presented to someone who is aspiring to become something they are not, (jazz musician, sports star, Hollywood actor, etc.) asking if they are inspired is a question that is riddled with thorns of interpretation. Let me try to explain.

The set up: Yamaha C-7X, top removed (looks smaller that way)

Last night Mrs. S and I went down to Birmingham for the first time in well over a year to attend a concert and hear banjo player Bela Fleck perform a duet with pianist Chick Corea. It’s a wonderful combination of consummate performers, who we have seen perform together in Nashville. Besides a number of works that they have performed together, such as Bela’s Waltse for Abby, Mountain, and Children’s Song #6, they stretched out a little bit playing some pieces by French classical composers (Dutilleux), and Italian Baroque composers (Scarlatti). There was also a new Fleck composition that Chick said helped him with his “bluegrass piano chops”. It was all quite captivating, interesting, and revealing.

Toward the end of the performance. Two observations: Jazz musicians are lucky to not have to spend a lot on clothes. And it's hard to focus a camera while taking surreptitious photos from the second row.

A little more than halfway through the last set, I was thinking to myself, well, I guess this is where I’m supposed to make up my mind to work harder, set myself to the task, and draw some motivation, if not inspiration, from the concert in order to up my playing, learn more about jazz and piano playing, and become a better pianist. The thought sat there at the top my spinal cord, sort of looking for a gap to slip through to get to my consciousness, but my consciousness just went, you know, you’re 50-something, Chick’s 70-something, and even if you live that long, you’re never going to play like him, so, just put that thought away and enjoy the music.

Which I did.

After the concert, walking back to the car, Mrs. S and I were chatting and she goes, so, are you inspired. I just said, no, it’s too hard to be inspired knowing that Chick Corea was way beyond my current capabilities at my age, and that if I live to be 100, I’m never going to have anything more than a shadow of his musicality. So, no, I’m not really inspired. Would I like to play better? Sure. Do I realize the only way to play better is to study and practice? Yes. Am I probably going to play the piano two or three times longer today and tomorrow and next week than a typical Saturday, Sunday and work week? Yes, probably.

Here's a shot of the back of a guy's head. Oh, and me shaking Chick Corea's hand. (Did I look that pathetically desperate to touch a star? I guess I did.)

If one of the thorns of interpretation of the word “inspiration” is: doing things differently from before to try to get better than you are, then yes, I guess I am inspired. But my aspiration is not to be like Chick. It’s to be a better version of me.

I printed out a score of the Scarlatti piece they played last night. That’s real inspiration in my book. We’ll see how far it gets me.

At least I got to shake the hand of one of my heroes. And so, we move on.

Moving on

I’ve been in a reading frenzy of late, as opposed to a practice frenzy or a write-in-my-blog frenzy (as readers may have noticed). That’s mainly because I’ve been in an incredible, invincible, indecipherable, undefeatable practice rut for the last two months. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the tendinitis in my elbows. Maybe it’s the distraction of yard work. It’s something, but the bottom line is, I just haven’t been practicing the piano like I’m capable of. I felt so sorry for my instructor, after torturing him for two months, I decided to stop lessons for a while. Instead, I picked up a book to hopefully get me out of my practice rut.

I bought Practice-opedia after reading comments by the author in an article in the Wall Street Journal about how to keep kids progressing with their music lessons during the summer. Everything he said made sense, and I thought that a 376 page books of practice strategies and ideas would be the ticket out of the rut. Unfortunately, all it served to do is to make the ocean of practice I’m swimming around in, wider and chopper. It’s hardly a good thing.

Practice makes perfect, making this the perfect book. Maybe.

Of course, some ideas in the book are worth pursuing, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with having a new perspective. But some of the ideas are just aimed too specifically at children learners who shuffle from lesson to lesson, and I think what I really need is something that helps with the big picture. I need a practice book for a musician, not for someone who might ot might not become a musician.

So, I’m reading, I’m studying, I’m practicing (a little), and I’m trying. I’m moving on, on my own. We’ll see how this goes.

Hanging in NOLA – Travel Log – Part Deux

There’s never a shortage of live music in New Orleans, however, finding the kind of live music or the artist that inspires you is not always easy. Thankfully, Mrs. S’s forte is figuring out what’s going on, finding what we are interested in, and then telling me so we can work on the logistics together. One of our favorite places to go is Snug Harbor, but the lineup for the three night we were there was not that attractive. Making things more difficult was the fact that we had reservations at three swanky places over the three nights, so logistics was going to be more of a challenge in any event. But Mrs. S found that Jason and Ellis Marsalis were performing at Irvin Mayfield’s Jazz Playhouse, just a stone’s throw from our hotel, and starting at 8PM on a night when we had a 5:30 dinner reservation just ten minutes or so down the road. She even put our name on the guest list and told them to keep something down front available for us.

Piano mediocrity meets piano greatness (again): Me and Ellis Marsalis

After a fantastic dinner at August, we made our way to the club, where to our dismay and trepidation, they were turning people away at the door. No worries. As two couples did their about face, I told the woman at the door that we were on the list, gave her our name, and she smiled brightly and said, “Right this way.” She showed us a cushy table with padded seats and generous area, but right in front of that was a tiny table barely large enough for two drinks and two chairs on either side. I asked if we could sit there and she said sure. And there we were again, in the best seats in the house: front row.

The view from behind our table: That's our table right in front of the piano there.

Turns out our table was also right next to the Messrs. Marsalis’ table, so I went ahead and shook the elder Marsalis’ hand and had our picture taken prior to the show. The show was a captivating program of Christmas music, with Jason on vibes and his father playing piano (obviously), though Jason of course got behind his trap set for their rousing version of Little Drummer Boy. I don’t know if it was part of the act or what, but every tune, Jason announced as if nobody in the place had heard Christmas music before. It was really kind of laughable to hear somebody , in a deadpan serious voice, go, “That was a tune called ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’. Now, here’s ‘Away in a Manger’.” Thanks, Jason. What was amazing was Jason would grab their CD, look at the back, call out a tune and a key signature, and Ellis would kick it off and away they went. Again, not sure it was part of the act, or what. The show was somewhat disrupted by a table of four in the front on the other side of the stage, who were yelling, laughing, and carrying on, and who had no idea who the Marsalis’s were. I wanted to tell them to shut up, but I figured if Jason wasn't bothered by them, neither would I be.

Drummer vibraphonist meets pianist vibraphonist (someday): Jason Marsalis and me.

The night ended paying $20 for a $10 CD so we could get it signed and have some more photos taken with the Marsalises, so it ended up being a night worth remembering in a lot of different ways. Hopefully Mrs. S can keep her concert going radar up and running during future trips to the Big Easy.

Something new for a change

Because of my position as an influential (?) writer about jazz, I occasionally get promotional materials and notices from jazz musicians, agents and music companies asking me to let my readers know about their latest musician, song, band, or whatever. When I first started blogging, I was very accommodating and was generally quite diligent about writing up what they let me know about. For some reason, however, at some point, I got away from doing that with any regularity.

Well, now I’m getting back to it, starting with Marcus Goldhaber.

Photo courtesy of Marcus Goldhaber and Randex Communications

Truth be told, I've had my eye on this guy for about two years now, as he was performing in New York close to when I visited there and I had a bunch of jazz clubs on my radar. I've always liked his voice and he usually has a great set of musicians behind him, sometimes some really big names. Of course, he’s also a composer and the musicality of his original tunes is as good as anybody in jazz right now. But what’s really appealing about Mr. Goldhaber’s latest offering, “A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening”, is that he mixes in five original songs with seven standards that are not performed as often as they should be. The mix is dynamic and gives Mr. Goldhaber ample opportunity to display his chops. Is just as pleasant a listening experience as male vocal jazz gets.

That said, what really puts this recording over the top for me is the backing musicians, and especially, the pianist. (Yes, I’m a pianist, so I’m biased.) Jon Davis (who co-arranged with Mr. Goldhaber) has a light touch on the piano, with a quick turn of phrase or chord voicing to relieve or boost the sentimentality, whichever and whenever needed. Mr. Davis also has a critical role in bringing cohesiveness with two different bassists and drummers. Even so, he’s always able to hint at relaxation without becoming lounge-ified. This is exemplified in the middle tracks of “No Moon At All”, where the piano takes second stage to the bass, but pushes the song right back to a bluesy stroll when he gets his solo, which is then followed by the Irving Berlin classic “Top Hat, White Tie and Tails”, taken at a mellow pace with the piano right out front. I’m in awe of Mr. Davis, but I applaud Mr. Goldhaber for picking him to work on these tracks. It all just works.

The recording comes out on October 14. If you’re looking for some good male vocal jazz that sounds original both in compositions and performance, put  “A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening” on your shopping list. It’s worth the price of admission.

Back to facing the music

 I'm still working on the listening guides in Jazz Styles, a book that (except for the listening guides) I just finished reading recently. I've also added a bunch of interesting chunks of musical history to my collection, that I thought I would brag, er, write about.

I like the early pictures of Duke, because he doesn't show all the weariness of 50 years in the music business that his later pictures do. Just a happy, confident musician.

The top of that heap is the 3 CD set of Early Ellington: The Original Decca Recordings. This is an increasingly rare set that could be had on Amazon and E-bay forever, but almost always at ridiculous prices. So, when I happened to be surfing around and found one for less than $20, I was all over it. I really consider it a cornerstone of my collection, even though I've only had it for a few days. Of course, Mrs. S put it on for me the other night as our dinner background music, and she quickly thanked me when I walked right over to the iPad and put something else on. "I thought you wanted to listen to it," she said. I told her simply, that's music to study while listening to it, not to eat dinner. She said, "Well, thank God." Which is not to say there's anything wrong with the music, just, it's old, and it really takes a lot of focus and energy for a person living in the 21st century to listen to.

A subdued and simple piece of cover art, oddly compelling, that requires a second look, and then a third, just like Haig's music. 

Next is Al Haig's Will-O-The-Wisp, a collection of four ten-inch LP's from the '50's. This can actually be played during dinner to no great detriment, but it too is music I bought to study. I didn't know it, but Al Haig really is the grandfather of post-bop piano (Bud Powell fans: please give me a break on that one), and because of his work with the bop masters, he really laid the groundwork for a lot of the great pianists that were to come, like McCoy Tyner, Bill Evans, Ramsey Lewis, Ahmad Jamal and others. I find Haig's simple statements quite attractive because they are approachable to untalented players of little skill, like myself, making a decent sound not only attainable, but manageable.

How do you take a tax-deductible trip to France: Record your latest CD while you're there!

Then, speaking of Ahmad Jamal and getting some music we could listen to, we picked up the latest by "armadillo", as he's known in our house. ("Ahmad Jamal" in spoken Japanese sounds remarkably like "armadillo".) As I've indicated in my side bar: "It’s scary to think that Ahmad Jamal has been playing jazz piano for something like 20 years longer than I’ve even been alive. Maybe that’s why he sounds as good as he does. His original compositions also have a way of sneaking into your head for long periods of time, which means the best solution is to just put him on the iPad and leave him on." His music is just a joy.

Ah, it feels good to write about music again. I must do more of this in the very near future.

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!”

How long does it take me to learn a song? (Part two: Reset and an announcement)

So, for those of you who've been waiting to hear me stumble my way through "The Jitterbug Waltz" again, I have an announcement:

Forget that.

Oh, yes, I can play the song much better than the video I posted almost two months ago, I promise you that, but, I can't play it all the way through at performance level. Add to that, if I were to play it on video with my digital piano, you'd hear more of the clunking of the keys than the sound of the piano anyway. So, I'm going to remedy that. To do so, I bought this:

My Yamaha C1X, still in the piano professor's office at the University of Alabama in Huntsville.

Yes. Two weeks shy of four years after I started my quest to buy a "real" piano, I have purchased one. It's a Yamaha C1X, less than a year old, which means it is sold as new and warranted for ten years. It's a slight downgrade in model from what I wanted (C1 instead of C3), but it's a slight upgrade in line (Conservatory 'X' series instead of just Conservatory). It will be delivered on Thursday. 

On Thursday night, my life will begin to change.

And after I get my piano, I will pick another piece, start from scratch, and then we'll see for real, how long it takes me to learn a song.

How long does it take me to learn a song? (Part one)

So, I decided to expose myself. Not that way. I'm going to record myself learning to play a song. It won't be easy, but it might just be some motivation for me to not take forever and a day to learn a simple tune. Today, March 30, is day one. Here's a video of me having a look at The Jitterbug Waltz, by Thomas "Fats" Waller. Turn up your sound, because my video shooting is even worse than my piano playing.

Like I said, we've got a long way to go.

Francoise Sagan, Frank Zappa, Bart Simpson, and other great philosophers' quotes on jazz

Here's a rehash of my October 28, 2009 blog entry. It's worth putting up again, I think.

It bugs me when people try to analyze jazz as an intellectual theorem. It's not. It's feeling. ~Bill Evans

…cartoons [are] America's only native art form. I don't count jazz because it sucks. ~Bart Simpson

Bart Simpson

No America, no jazz. I've seen people try to connect it to other countries, for instance to Africa, but it doesn't have a damn thing to do with Africa. ~Art Blakey

One thing I like about jazz, kid, is you don't know what's going to happen next. Do you? ~Bix Beiderbecke

For me, music and life are all about style. ~Miles Davis

If you have to ask what jazz is, you'll never know. ~Louis Armstrong

If you can't play the blues, you might as well hang it up. ~Dexter Gordon

Jazz is not dead – it just smells funny. ~Frank Zappa

Frank Zappa

I think I was supposed to play jazz. ~Herbie Hancock

The memory of things gone is important to a jazz musician. ~Louis Armstrong

Life is a lot like jazz – it's best when you improvise. ~George Gershwin

Those jazz guys are just makin' that stuff up! ~Homer Simpson

Jazz and love are the hardest things to describe from rationale. ~Mel Torme

Jazz is an intensified feeling of nonchalance. ~Francoise Sagan

Francoise Sagan

There is no such thing as a wrong note. ~Art Tatum

If you find a note tonight that sounds good, play the same damn note every night. ~Count Basie

Anyone who understands jazz knows that you can't understand it. It's too complicated. That's what's so simple about it. ~Yogi Berra

Men have died for this music. You can't get more serious than that. ~Dizzy Gillespie

Would you buy a beer for the picture on the label?

Until two days ago, my answer would have been no. But as an aspiring jazz pianist, I was tempted when I saw this in my local grocery store aisle. 

At $3 a bottle, I managed to talk myself out of it, but then I researched the beer on the brewery’s website, and wouldn't you know it, one of my new favorite jazz pianists, Geoffrey Keezer, is flogging it on the brewer's website. Now, I don't owe Geoffrey anything, but, hey, if it's good enough for him, I don't know, maybe it will make me a better pianist. So, yesterday, I made a special trip just to pick up the beer (and some cold, cough, and flu medicine for me and Mrs. S).

So the answer to the question in the title turns out to be: Hell, why not?

‘Nother Night in Nashville

A week ago Friday, Mrs. S and I made the trip to Nashville for a break from the home renovations (kind of) to see Chris Botti. We changed it up this time and ended up behind the stage, which takes a lot of walking to get to. You definitely get a different perspective up there behind the stage.

I wish I could just eat my dinner instead of photographing every plate that comes to the table. (@Etch Restaurant)

It was great to hear Chris, Billy Kilson, and a great band with a great pianist (more in a minute) and while I do enjoy the tunes, which he’s been playing in more or less this exact format for more or less ten years now, 300 days a year (according to him), I did feel things were getting just a little on the stale side. Then he changed it up.

What I could see from my seat.

He brought out Sy Smith, who I certainly didn't expect to see but who I was excited to see. She’s a tremendous singer. Just tremendous. The show was enjoyable, make no mistake about it, but I’m hoping Chris puts together a different set soon and brings back Mark Whitfield on guitar. That would be awesome.

A blurry shot of me with bassist Richie Goods

After the show we hung around and got pictures with Chris and some of his band members, plus a bunch of autographs on a bunch of CD’s and DVD’s. I got to talk with Geoffrey Keezer for a little bit. Now, I’d never heard of this guy until that night, but I’ll tell you right now: I’m going to keep my eyes open for this guy. He’s amazing. During his solo on Flamenco Sketches, I managed to catch a little bit of Waltz for Debby, and then, Fascinating Rhythm. Of course, I asked him how he managed to work those two songs, one in a different time signature, into his solo, and he gave a typical genius pianist’s answer: “I don’t know. And, you’ll probably never hear me do that ever again.” Yep, amazing.

Me and Mr. Keezer. Goodness, this guy's a fantastic pianist.

The next day was back to the renovation, picking up some IKEA furniture at an IKEA agent outside of Nashville. We even made time to stop at the Steinway Gallery and see a bunch of pianos I’m not going to buy. (The Yamaha C3 they had was excellent. I’d’ve bought it if it was 25% cheaper than the price quoted me. Sigh.)

The shot before this one included Mrs. S. I made Chris smile when she got confused and I said, "Beat it!"

Back home, it was back to the renovations, listening and thinking about jazz, and getting slowly closer to my own piano. That’s it.

Now comes the boring part

This is a brief story of what happens when you skip establishing the proper foundation right at the beginning.

Scales

Having learned to play the organ when I was young, I never had any formal piano instruction until I began taking lessons six years ago. At the time, because I was an adult, and not very savvy about these things, I basically told my instructor, I don’t care how I play, I just want to sound good. Recognizing that he was half my age and he had to do what I said if he wanted me to pay him, he diligently taught me what I thought I wanted to learn. If I asked about technique and skill improvement, he helped me, but he never force fed me what I didn't want to eat. Not so my new instructor.

Scales

He said, before I really said much of anything about why I wanted to take lessons this time around, “Really, in order to play better, you have to improve your technique.” I knew what this meant, but demurely asked a one word question: “Scales?”

Scales

“Scales,” came the one word answer.

Scales

So, I’m playing scales. In the interest of getting the fingering down and not stultifying my brain too much right at the start, I’m doing contrary motion two-handed scales. That way, the same fingers are always doing the same thing at the same time, hopefully programming my muscles to hit the correct keys at the correct time. It’s not refreshing, but it is somewhat invigorating to be tackling these rote sort of tasks at long last. So this week’s project is contrary and parallel scales in C, G, D, A, and E. I’ll probably go ahead and push on to at least B so that by next week, I’ll be halfway finished. Honestly, I don’t know if I can get there by next Tuesday, but we’ll see.

Scales

Kids, learn your scales now and don’t cry. You’ll thank me later.