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!”

The End of March, The End of Madness: My latest trip to New Orleans

This week I’ll be writing about my latest trip to New Orleans, which had me in the Crescent City for the front end of March Madness, making a lot of things difficult, but in the end turning out well. Mrs. S and I met virtuoso violinist Joshua Bell (again!) and we got lucky and met Ellis Marsalis, too. I even got an autograph.

Speaking of which, one month less one day to the date, here’s the photo of me and Mrs. S meeting Wynton Marsalis early last month:

Two jazz musicians and a fan

You can see he’s an impeccable dresser and he’s friendly. I actually had the opportunity to listen to his program on Sirius XM radio on the drive home from New Orleans yesterday. Very informed and very informative, it was one of the most educational radio programs I’d ever heard. I’ll probably have to go sit out in my car on Saturday morning from now on, unless I spring an extra $3 a month for computer access to the radio channels.

Finally, I’m starting my Post-Bop piano book experiment today. Wish me luck.

Hanging out with rock stars ... who happen to be jazz musicians

 (Lots of pictures in this one. Enjoy!)

Finished product: See below.

As I said yesterday, our time with Mr. Marsalis was brief. He had two handlers with him, and they kept things moving along and discouraged people from hanging too close to Mr. Marsalis. And that’s fine. When it was announced that everyone who was to get pictures taken had had them taken, it was time for him to go, but in the meantime, several members of the band had made their way into the room.

I grabbed my Ted Nash and Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra CD and started looking for Ted. He was not there. I ended up next to drummer Ali Jackson and there was nobody talking to him at that moment. He had a big friendly smile and firm handshake, and he really looked genuinely glad to have someone to talk to. He signed my CD and we took a picture:

Ali, like any drummer, in a rhythm, so quick to sign my CD, we didn't get that shot, just this one. You can see how much fun I'm having, can't you?

Like any talented drummer, his energy was palpable. He practically broke my ribs when he slung his arm around me to take this picture. I told him I really liked his work with the quintet on the recording with Richard Galliano and he really lit up after that. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much. That’s great. Thank you.” Just a very pleasant guy. I thanked him for the autograph, thanked him for coming down to Alabama and told him I looked forward to seeing him and the band again soon.

From there I made my way over to trombonist Chris Crenshaw. Funny (embarrassing) thing was, even though I knew who he was and I knew that Vincent Gardner was not on this trip (the very talented Andre Hayward subbing for him, unless there's been a personnel change I'm not aware of), I stuck out the CD and pen and said, “Can I have an autograph, Vincent?” And Chris, ever the gentleman, just grabbed the pen and CD, started signing, and said, “Sure. Sure. It’s Chris, actually.”

Chris, actually, signs my CD. I think I'm still blushing from my ID error.

 I realized my mistake and apologized. He just said, “It’s all good, man. It’s all good. Vince is a tall guy, too. We’re both tall.” That made me feel a little better. I complimented Chris on his singing (he's a wonderful vocalist) and thanked him, too, for playing in Alabama. He just said thanks. And yes, he's tall. 6'5" I'd say:

Don't worry. I can take him. I'll box him out for the rebound. (We mid-westerners know how to do that.)

Then, I found myself next to trumpeter Marcus Printup. Very cool guy. He asked my name and remembered it. He signed my CD: 

Marcus adds his signature. He's not getting my Conn trumpet. And, what the...? Left-handed! Just like his boss!

I told him how Herb Alpert always made me want to play trumpet, but I ended up at the piano instead. I even told him about my Conn 1941 trumpet and he said, “Oh, that’s a good one. Great instrument. Don’t ever sell that one, and if you do, sell it to me.” He had a couple of friends that kept distracting him, but I still got a decent picture with him. Did I mention he’s a very cool guy?

Marcus Printup and Eric. (Seriously, he's a cool guy.)

So, no Ted Nash (or Wynton Marsalis) signature, but I did have 20% of the band sign on the jacket, one from every section except the saxes. (See above.)

We briefly checked out the after party, which for us was free because we paid for the meet and greet. Good thing, too, because there was just this fairly decent band and drinks were not free (cash bar only), and we weren’t up for snacks and hanging out in the lobby, so we took this nondescript photo and then headed for home:

Sorry, don't know who they are, but they were good. Really, they were. Sirote Theatre is where we saw Bill Frisell.

 The ride home was pretty much like the ride down: wet, windy, and lit by lightning, but I’m not saying anything more about the weather, and that’s all I can say about meeting and greeting Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra.

Not now, I’m in a meeting

The signed poster with ticket stubs from the Huntsville concert two years ago.

Over the last two years or so, since Mrs. S and I decided that we would indulge our passion for music, we’ve had a number of opportunities to meet various artists of varying degrees of celebrity. One thing all of these meetings have had in common, however, would be the element of surprise. You just never know what you are going to get. You don’t know how many people will be there, how long the star will talk to you (or if they even will), whether or not you can take pictures, whether or not you can ask for autographs, it’s all a big secret. In fact, some celebrities don’t even tell the staff on hand what they are willing to do and what is acceptable for the fans up until the last possible moment. In other words, it’s a guessing game for everybody but the star.

In this respect, Wynton Marsalis proved no different. We were told he would sign autographs, but he only signed two (one for me). We were told no pictures, but everybody (and I do mean everybody) kept taking pictures of him with their cameras and phones. We were told he would be at the after party, but he was not. We were told not to expect other band members, but a couple of the guys showed up. In other words, it was basically a semi-controlled free-for-all.

Where Wynton differed was, he spent a fair amount of time with each guest. He did what he said he would do, and he was a nice guy. Eventually, I will get a link to the official pictures of him taken with me and Mrs. S. In the meantime, here’s the best one of him signing my Huntsville concert poster:

I suppose I could have held the thing up for him to sign, and, whaddaya know?!? He's left-handed!

On the ride back, Mrs. S was bemoaning the fact that she had lugged seven Wynton Marsalis CD’s in her purse all night and we didn’t get Wynton to sign any of them. I said I was happy just to get the poster signed and to get a few band members’ signatures on one of the CD’s. She said, we should have taken more pictures, and we should have stayed with him, and we should have asked for more autographs. I said, offhandedly, yeah, but they told us we couldn’t. She said, you follow too many of the rules. (I thought that was funny.) Then she added, those rules don’t make sense, and it always turns out everybody else breaks them anyway, so we might as well do what we want. Why do you follow the rules?  I said, because rules are what keep societies in order and prevent random behavior from detracting from our way of life. (I thought that was funny, too.) And while I believe that, I also believe something else:

At my next meet and greet, I’m going to break a few rules.

Next: I’m with the band

After the weather, came the storm (of jazz, that is)

First of all, in spite of the weather, the Jemison Concert Hall at Alys Stephens Center was as packed as I have ever seen it. Keep in mind, I’ve seen some big names in classical and jazz music, from Joshua Bell and Hilary Hahn, to Bela Fleck and Edgar Meyer, to Herbie Hancock, Pat Metheny  and Al Jarreau. Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra packed them in like nobody else.

They kept their stage set up very tight. I think this has to do with communication, because there is a lot of back and forth during the solos and there are lots of solis written into the music to give sections a chance to play some more while another performer is soloing. It takes some coordination to know when to play those solis, and you’ve also got to know what the soloist has in mind, so I think they sit close to make sure they are all on the same page, literally and figuratively. Here’s a look at the stage from the other side, including the piano bench platform that half the band stumbled over:

Look what's under the bench. Just low enough to not catch your eye, just high enough to catch a loafer.

Wynton told a couple of interesting stories during the performance, and he’s actually a pretty funny guy. He has a down-to-earth sense of humor that goes over well with audiences. Before they played Horace Silver’s “Senor Blues”, he told the story of how he used to judge jazz compositions with Horace. Most judges gave poor performances a 6, average performances a 7 or 8, and 9 or 10 to great performances. Horace would give out 1’s and 2’s. Wynton told him not to do that, but he kept right on. Now, whenever they have a competition to judge, the judge who gives out the lowest overall scores gets the “Horace Silver Award”.

I thought it was funny. I probably made a face a little brighter than this:

A pre-concert grin in front of a Steinway

They did the concert with an intermission. They played lots of standards arranged by band members and Wynton himself, and they played a couple of songs off of a train theme based suite that I’m not familiar with but will be by the time I finish writing about the concert and after concert meet and greet (probably two more entries after this one). There was no encore, which was not surprising but still disappointing. They did not play any of the songs they played two years ago when they visited Huntsville. Mrs. S liked the songs from two years ago better. I think I liked these better, but I still consider myself lucky to have heard some of Ted Nash’s songs when they were in Huntsville. (It’s also the CD I had signed by several band members.

Next: Meeting Wynton Marsalis.

Totally blown away ... then we got to the Wynton Marsalis concert!

I suppose at times, we all suffer from clouded judgment. Our irrational desires, seem, worth so much more than they really are. We momentarily stop, ... think, ... rationalize, ... stop again, only to let emotion and misperception override our best decision making capabilities. “Hey, you guys! Watch this!” we yell, and...

Into the brink.

Okay. Driving through a raging thunderstorm that earlier in the day gave birth to potentially fatal tornadoes (emphasis on the word “potentially”) may not exactly be the ultimate risk. After all, you’re in a car, designed by engineers for crissakes, who know their customers are idiots and will unnecessarily drive in rain and high winds for purposes that are probably not worth the risk. “Maybe we should let them hit the guardrail if they drive in a tornado?” says one. “Yeah, or...” But one of the engineers knows that a dead American purchases fewer cars than a live one. (He probably took a marketing course in junior college.) “Maybe we can put a computer on the wheels to control the brakes if they lose traction.” There is a moment of silence as the genius of the idea seeps into the other engineers’ brains. “But then they won’t skid out and hit a concrete barrier, and they’ll definitely never go over the median and into the path of an 18-wheeler. Where’s the fun in that?”

And you know that this conversation (or maybe a less macabre version of it) took place. You know your car can take you places, even in the worst conditions. So you weigh the chances of an engineer being smart enough to keep you alive against something you think is worth, risking, well, maybe just a little death, and you get in your car and drive 100 miles through a storm system.

Spoiler alert: Me, enjoying a glass of wine prior to the concert (I did not die on the drive down)

No. You’re not the smartest person on the planet. Because the guys that designed your car are all smarter than you (even if they do work for General Motors – hi, dad). But, you’re a good driver, and, you know your car will compensate for your (few) inadequacies. And besides, is it really all that windy? Didn’t you just change the blades on your windshield wipers? It’s going to be worth the effort, right?

My last rational thought, before I drove through a cracking thunderstorm for a hundred miles and almost two hours was: “If something is going to kill me in an untimely fashion in a horrible, sad way, it might as well be a car trip to a jazz concert by one of the pre-eminent big bands of our – or any – time. God, I’m sorry I didn’t practice the church music as much as I should have. I only realized five years ago I was meant to improvise. And please, don’t let the ABS fail me now.”

So me and Mrs. S successfully drove to Birmingham to see Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra perform live at the Alys Stephens Center on Friday, March 2, 2012 (a day that saw two tornadoes injure seven and damage 140 homes in Alabama). And, we met Wynton after the show at an exclusive meet and greet. So there’s lots to talk about besides the weather, and that’s all I’m going to say about the drive except: it was worth it.

The stage setting, before a bunch of musicians came in and messed it up.

Next: The Concert.

Leap this: Five nights ago, two nights away

Last Friday, Mrs. S. and I again made the drive – thankfully not in the rain this time – to Birmingham, to visit the Alys Stephens Center to see,

The one...

The only...

Algernon!

Otherwise known as Al Jarreau. 78 years old, still singing up a storm with his vast repertoire, iconic hits, and a band of youngsters and oldsters that can make your heart race. He told the story (twice) of how his first record became a hit because even though nobody knew his name, they knew “that song by Algernon”, (young kids: google “Flowers for Algernon”), and that helped him to sell records. So, let me give you the short version of the review of the show. But first, a shot of me and Mrs. S. prior to the start.

He sang all his hits, and he sang a few other people’s hits, like The Beatles’ “She’s Leaving Home” and Paul Desmond’s “Take Five” (which originally didn’t have lyrics). His bass player, Chris Walker, sang one of his songs that will soon be a hit (phenomenal stuff) and all in all, it was just one hell of a show. Al’s got a star on the Hollywood walk of fame, and deservingly so. It was a great show. Imagine a 78 year old jazz singer on this stage:

Anyway, I’ve scratched another legend off my “must see living legends of jazz list”. Next up is Wynton Marsalis, who I “saw” two years ago, but due to the down front, below the stage, orchestra pit seats in Huntsville, although I sat within twenty feet of him, I never, not once, actually saw Mr. Marsalis, this Friday we’ll actually get to meet and greet him. Expect many autographs, pictures, and memories to adorn these pages shortly after that.

Five days ago, Al Jarreau, two days from now, Wynton Marsalis. Not bad for someone who’s as late to jazz as me. Not bad at all.

Wynton Marsalis Concert Report

Sat in the front row. Couldn't see anything except the piano, bass and saxophone section (which is half the band, but not including Wynton, so not too bad). These guys REALLY know how to play. Unbelievable. It was just fabulous. Check it out:

This is what the papers had to say.

Joshua Bell and Jazz

On Valentine's Day, Mrs. S dragged me kicking and screaming to a chamber music concert to hear the violinist Joshua Bell. (Well, not kicking and screaming, because I did buy her the front row seats that she asked for. Let's just say I was dubious.)

Even as the ladies ooh-ed and ahh-ed over his good looks (see below), Mr. Bell knocked my pink-heart socks off!



I'd never heard such violin music. His control was amazing, his stamina that of a marathoner, and his mastery of dynamics and tone was just phenomenal. He's recently been dabbling in popular music and jazz, and since Funny Valentine was on his last CD, I felt pretty sure he'd play that for the Valentine's concert encore. He decided to play something different, but it was fantastic too.

We got several autographs and talked with him for a little while at the dinner after the concert. We met some fascinating people at the concert, too.

What's the point?

The point is, one month from last Thursday, Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra will be in Huntsville Alabama for a concert, and what Mrs. S. and I have discovered is that when a big name star, like Joshua Bell or Wynton Marsalis, comes to your small home town, you'd better make the time and effort to go and see them. There's nothing quite like the relatively intimate show that consummate musicians and entertainers can put on, as proved by Mr. Bell and as Mr. Marsalis will no doubt prove in just less than a month.

For the record, Mrs. S. and I paid about $250 for season tickets so we could be guaranteed of seeing Mr. Marsalis's concert, and while tickets for that are still available, two nights after the Huntsville concert for the concert in Atlanta, Wynton Marsalis tickets are going for $165 apiece (if you can find them). That means Mrs. S and I will be seeing Mr. Marsalis in concert for a discount, and we got to see two musicals for free.

Can't beat that with a timpani mallet.