At the tender age of 50, my first ever song request played on the radio

 A couple of days ago, I took off work in order to escort Mrs. S to a concert in Nashville. Any day I don’t go to work is a good day, and any day I don’t go to work for a reason related to music is even better. Which is to say, I wasn't excited about driving four hours round trip to hear Il Volo, three young Italian guys sing “Memory” with a Placido Domingo take, but, I was looking to make the best of it and enjoy myself anyway. On the way up to Nashville, we were listening to Real Jazz on Sirius XM, and the DJ Mark Ruffin said he was going to play something from Roy Hargrove. Here’s where my story begins.

Il Volo: European suits, big hair, Italian shoes, and they can sing. What's not to like? Photo © Mrs. S.

When the song came on, the radio displayed “My Shining Hour” and “Roy Hargrove”. The song, however, was Milestones. Even Mrs. S, who is not all that good with the names of jazz songs but who likes “Milestones” looked at the radio with a quizzical look. “That’s Milestones”, I said. She said, yeah, what’s going on? Now, the song that was on the radio was really hot. It had some of the best solos I’d ever heard on Miles’ modal tune, and the piano work was fan-freaking-tastic. I told Mrs. S I had to have it, she agreed, and said it should be easy to find on Amazon or Google.

The next morning, I tried mightily to find a Roy Hargrove version of Milestones, but what I could find was not that song. (By the way, on my way to work, Real Jazz played “My Shining Hour” by John Roney – another coincidence.) I told Mrs. S of my travails, and she tried to work her Internet magic, but in the end, she couldn't find it either. I told her I was going to call Sirius and talk to the DJ and sort it out, because I figured they had made a mistake and would be able to direct me to the recording.

So, I waited until about 20 minutes into Mark Ruffin’s time slot, then gave the request line a ring. A human answered the phone: “Real Jazz”. I was momentarily stunned. “Real Jazz,” he said again. I sputtered something about making a request. He said, “Sure. Watcha wanna hear?” I told him I wasn't sure but it was a song Mark Ruffin had played the day before, it said Roy Hargrove My Shining Hour, but it was Milestones, definitely Milestones, and I really wanted to hear it again, but I also wanted to know who played on the track. “Okay. Hold on.” I waited about twenty seconds and when the guy came back on, he told me what he knew about that track. By this time,  I could tell it actually was Mark Ruffin, as he started to sound like himself and my shock had tapered off. I asked if he was Mark and he said, yeah. And I said, I didn't think you would answer your own phones, and he said, I do everything, man. I said, well thanks for the info, but you know, that song is Milestones. He said, hold on. Came back, said, You know, the record company f***ed up, because, the track says My Shining Hour, but you’re right, it’s Milestones, so yeah, the record company f***ed up. (I love talking with jazz people. We all talk normally, and the same language, literally.) I thanked him for the information and asked that if he could play my request, to play it between 5:30 and 6:00, because that’s when I’d be in the car. I told him I was calling from Madison Alabama, and he said, okay man, thanks, and I said thank you.

So, I’m driving to my piano lesson, and Mark’s playing one Horace Silver song after another. Uh-oh. Something going on, either it’s Horace’s birthday or he died, or something. Sure enough, it gets to seven minutes before Mark goes off and he comes on the air and says, as close as I can remember it, “It’s a sad day today in the jazz world, as the great Horace Silver has passed away. You just heard a few of Horace’s greatest songs, and Les Davis is up at the top of the hour and he’s going to play a lot more of Horace Silver’s music for you, as we've had a number of requests, but before I go, I have one more request that I can’t ignore from a listener in Madison Alabama. I had a great conversation with this guy, and he wanted to hear some Roy Hargrove, so here it is. Swing safely, this Wednesday.” And, he did, in fact, play Milestones by Roy Hargrove, although it was different from the version I was talking about and was just called “Miles”. But still, it was what I asked for.

I don't know the exact song, but something from this album woke us this morning, the day after Mr. Silver's death. 

And this morning, our alarm clock that plays from an iPod with most of our jazz collection loaded on it went off at 5AM on the dot with – wait for it – a song by Horace Silver.

It couldn't be clearer to me: I need to put jazz and music at the center of my life from now on.

And the day we lost Horace Silver, was, indeed, a sad day, even if I did get my request played. Thanks, Mark and thank you, Sirius XM. 

Some encouragement from a famous concert pianist and international recording star

Last week, Mrs. S suggested I accompany her to the Huntsville Chamber Music Guild’s penultimate concert of the year, featuring pianist Emanuel Ax. Interestingly enough, I had never heard of the guy until a few weeks before, when Mrs. S was telling me about Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music having over 200 Steinway grand pianos. I didn't think that was possible, so I did what any normal person would do. I Googled it. It turned out to be true, but then I thought, well, if Jacobs has that many, I wonder how many Juilliard has. Turns out they have over 250 Steinway grands (and 6 full time piano technicians). While “researching” that, I happened to glance at the Juilliard piano faculty listing, and that’s where I saw Emanuel Ax’s name. So, when the missus invited me to his concert, I was in.

The concert was quite good. As you would expect of an old Polish guy, he played a lot of old Euopean (German) music:  Brahms, Schubert, Schumann, but also some modern pieces, including a suite of pieces written to be played in between some Brahms pieces. He was signing CD’s after the concert, and Mrs. S, who is usually replete with the concert star’s CD’s in the event there is an autograph session was fresh out of Emanuel Ax CD’s. (Most of the ones she had were concertos with Yo Yo Ma, anyway, so he might not have been so thrilled to sign those in the first place.) 

Grammy winner Emanuel Ax signs a pair of CDs for me.

So we bought two CD’s to have signed. Mr. Ax was very pleasant and cordial. When I asked for a photo because I am a budding pianist, he said, “Oh, sure! Of course. That’s great. That’s great.” We took the photo and I shook his hand, and even with a line of people still behind me and my shared moment with him over, he took the time to add, “You should continue to pursue the piano by all means and I wish you well!” 

Would you take advice from this man? Of course you would! 

I’m pretty sure I've never heard any such words of encouragement that were more sincere. The look in his eyes was unwavering and clear: Playing the piano is a thing worth doing. You may think you are old and you may have a long way to go, but you should do it, … by all means.

Thank you very much Mr. Ax. I think I will.

Two methodologies to create memories of Paul McCartney in concert

Win two different lotteries and fly 6,000 miles, or, spend a lot of money, go to the concert on your birthday, and parley your name and nationality into a one of a kind tattoo.

Although Paul McCartney has only released one “top to bottom” jazz album, many Beatles hits have become jazz standards. One of the ensembles I played in even featured a very “French café” sounding version of Michele. Which has nothing to do with why I went to see him at the Tokyo Dome two weeks ago.

The view in the dome, thirty minutes to show time, approximately one quarter mile from the stage.

A happy confluence of events: Mrs. S and I scheduled a trip to Japan around the time that Paul was going to be in Japan. This was not as easy as it sounds, because the air tickets were freebies that were won in a drawing at a Japanese cultural event, and needless to say, airlines don’t mind giving away free tickets, but they are loathe to actually allow you use them, never mind pick a particular date. Nonetheless, she managed.

Same view, two minutes to show time.

Then, her sister entered the lottery to be allowed to purchase tickets to one of the Paul McCartney concerts at the Tokyo Dome, and was selected to be a purchaser. She picked up four tickets in the best section she could, which although we were quite far from the stage, we at least had a clear and unobstructed view.

Somewhere in there is a former Beatle, Wings leader, and knight of the realm.

The concert was great. 71-year old guy sang 39 songs for two hours and forty five minutes non-stop. Not bad at all. I've got another concert memory, and I saw a genuine legend of rock and pop music perform live. No complaints there. It’s almost makes me Paul-crazy.

Speaking of which, let me share a story.

One of Mrs. S’s friends is a big Paul McCartney fan. She paid a couple thousand bucks to be in the front row all three nights Paul played in Tokyo. Anyway, she knows another girl who became a big fan of Paul’s. When she was 24, that girl traveled to Montreal and since she had purchased a VIP package, she attended the sound check. At the sound check, she held up a big sign saying, “I traveled all the way from Japan and today is my birthday!” or some such, and sure enough, Paul called her up on stage. As soon as she got on stage, she bared her left shoulder and asked him to autograph it for her. Paul was a bit embarrassed, but signed anyway. After he signed, he asked her what her name was. She told him: “Yoko.” Paul said, “Ah, I've heard that name before.”

The next day, the girl went to a tattoo shop and had the signature tattooed in place. So wherever you are, Yoko-san, send me a picture of your tattoo. My readers and I want to see it! 

‘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.

Edgar Meyer Redux

About a year and a half ago, Mrs. S and I had the privilege to see and hear Edgar Meyer as he performed his third concerto, a piece he was commissioned to write for the Alabama Symphony Orchestra. At that time, I bemoaned the fact that his talent as both a musician and a composer was sorely under appreciated by the Alabama patronage. So when we decided to go see Mr. Meyer again in tandem with Joshua Bell in Nashville, I was, maybe not worried, but I was skeptical and doubtful of what kind of reception he would get. Fortunately, Messrs. Bell and Meyer’s performance was a bit more dynamic than Mr. Meyer’s solo work on his concerto, the orchestra was complete and well-rehearsed, and the piece itself was exciting, enthralling, and altogether amazing.

 

Edgar Meyer and Joshua Bell, hard at "work"

Of course, the dynamics of a piece written for solo violin and double bass are what make it so amazing. I mean, as somebody who has arranged a piece for a 17-piece jazz band, I understand a little better than most the difficulty of making dissonant, dissimilar instruments sound good when playing together. I can only imagine, however, the difficulty of getting the highest and lowest instruments of the same family to blend as well as Mr. Meyer and Mr. Bell made them do. Mr. Meyer also managed to hit a bunch of notes right at the low end of the bass neck, much higher sounding than you would ever think you could get out of a bass. It was a fantastic performance of a highly original and interesting piece.

Hard to miss a big guy in suspenders and bow tie, but most people did

They did not announce any autograph session with Bell and Meyer, so Mrs. S and I went about our normal intermission routine of stretching our legs to and from the restrooms. While I was waiting for Mrs. S, I noticed a guy in suspenders who looked suspiciously like Edgar Meyer run past the top of the stairs with a bottle of water and up the stairs into the foyer. I followed him and found that it was indeed Mr. Meyer and Mr. Bell was already seated with him at a table with a long line of autograph seekers already queued. I went downstairs and retrieved Mrs. S and we went to join the autograph seekers. We succeeded in getting a few good autographs and a few mediocre snapshots (what you see around here).

Mrs. S adds to her pile of Joshua Bell photos. (You could tell he does this a lot more than Edgar does.)

The performance after Meyer and Bell was some long Mahler symphony that was not completely depressing. The first violinist had to finish the performance with just three strings, as he broke the E-string just before the start of the final flourish. After the clapping and “bravos” I caught his eye and I said, “Next time, maybe you should just start with three.” He laughed a little bit and said, “Yeah, maybe it is just in the way.” After that we went back to the foyer to mingle with some of the orchestra members. I talked to the first viola about his ear plug. (I’m interested in things that not everybody notices or cares about.)

And, one of three CD's we now have with both their signatures.

Not sure why I didn't write about this concert earlier, as it was the start of our bourbon country mini-vacation (May 31), but like my blog, better late than never.

Coming soon: The piano search update.

Jean-Yves plays jazz, he just “Don’t think much about it!”

So last week, I wrote about Yakov Kasman, a pianist who I heard play for the Huntsville Chamber Music Guild and who, at his educational event, forthrightly told me that he doesn't play jazz. This week Mrs. S and I took a drive through rainy 40-degree weather to visit Nashville, enjoy a scrumptious dinner at Merchants Restaurant and see another classical pianist perform with the symphony orchestra, Jean-Yves Thibaudet. He performed a modern classic called Piano Concerto No. 3 “The Mysteries of Light” by James MacMillan.

This is what Merchants looks like if you eat as early as we do.

Let me be succinct and clear about what I heard. This is supposed to be some kind of theologically inspired piece about “mysteries”, but what I heard was a fantastically abstract and intricate piece that simply blew me away. There was one “movement” where Thibaudet had to play two completely different lines, in what sounded like completely different meter, that overlapped and threaded their way around each other, and I swear to God, my brain was fried trying to make sense of it. I just don’t see how you can get two hands to play such completely different lines using one brain. In fact, I would say those would have been immensely challenging  lines for two pianists to play accurately. I just never heard anything like it.

This is what Merchants looks like if you drink as much as I do.

Thibaudet, was a true master, but the orchestra was also in top form. A lot of the piece revolves around a certain amount of confusion and cacophony in the sound. There are lots of bells and chimes and while they seem to be echoing the lines coming from the piano, they didn't always match, which was obviously part of the design. Thibaudet was playing a Steinway (very cool when it rose out of the stage), and compared to the Yamaha CF6 we heard DaniloPerez play with Wayne Shorter three weeks ago, it had a duller, more uniform high-end, which I felt was exactly suited to this bit of music. In fact, I’ll go so far to say that the resonant low end, the deep, commanding middle register, and the tinkly, baby-spoon clang of the high-end on the Steinway particularly lent itself to the piece. I think the CF6’s clarity and icicle like sharpness would have broken up the MacMillan piece too much.

This is what Merchants looks like if you think too much about photo captions.

At intermission, we got some CD’s signed and spent a few minutes getting photos and chatting up Jean-Yves, who was immensely personable, smiling, and pleasant. After taking pictures with me across the counter, when Mrs. S asked for one more, he brought her around the counter with him. Just a real nice guy, class act, and superb pianist.

I can't even make my hands move separately when I'm not playing...

I was going to ask him if he plays jazz, but I’m glad I didn't  Turns out he has two “jazz” recordings out, so we went ahead and Amazoned (online purchased) them. I did ask him how he got his hands to play those two contiguous yet conflicting lines so nicely, concluding with, “I don’t see how anyone can do it.” He said simply, “I don’t think much about it.” There was a definite glimmer in his eye. Probably a tear from thinking about how many hours he sat on a piano bench to learn those lines. I don’t know. It scares me, so I don’t think much about it either.

Jean-Yves Thibaudet and me.

The question I’m asking myself is, if it is possible that I was more impressed by Jean-Yves Thibaudet because he does play jazz, keeping in mind that I didn’t know he played jazz when I first heard him last night? The answer is, I think, almost certainly. Maybe it’s jazz, maybe it’s something else, but there's a different quality and dimension to Thibaudet's playing. Regardless, I promise you: You’ll never hear that MacMillan piece performed any better anywhere else, than it was last night with the Nashville Symphony and Jean-Yves Thibuadet.

Dude sure gets a lot closer to the ladies, no?

Yakov don’t play jazz. Jean-Yves don’t think much about it.

I do (play jazz), and, I do (think much about it), but maybe I will (play jazz) and I won’t (think much about it) from now on. 

Yakov “Don’t play jazz!”

As a sort of concession to Mrs. S and because I had some other chores that required my presence at home, I decided to take the day off last Friday and see if I couldn't get some stuff done, and then end the day at a chamber music concert featuring the pianist Yakov Kasman. We saw Kasman with the Huntsville Symphony some years back and got a CD signed by him, and since Mrs. S spent the whole year going to chamber music concerts by herself, except when it was Joshua Bell, I agreed to accompany her. I had been fence sitting, but then we learned that Kasman was going to have an “educational event”, and after the valuable master class we had with Gary Burton, I decided that was worth making Kasman’s lecture and concert part of my free day.

At the educational event, Yakov talked about how he developed his affinity for Alabama and ended up artist in residence at UAB. He didn't talk much about pianos or technique or anything like that, instead dragging his daughter on stage to play some of the four-handed pieces that were going to be featured at that night’s concert. It was a bit of a letdown.

Yakov's signature on our Moussorgsky CD. Or did Mrs. S drop the Sharpie on it? I'm not sure.

Finally, after the music history lesson, he agreed to take questions. It was a lot of the usual: how much do you practice (“a lot”), how many pianos do you have (“three”), and (from Mrs. S) what kind of pianos do you have (“a Steinway, a Yamaha, and a Kawai”), blah, blah, blah. Since his daughter had mentioned that he starts playing as soon as he wakes up and doesn't stop practicing until he goes to bed, I thought I had a question that was intelligent and the most probing of the bunch: Do you play just classical music or do you play other things? Turned out to be not so probing: “Just classic.” He seemed to suggest that was a stupid thing to ask. His tone and facial expression were all “OF COURSE a classical pianist only plays classical music, nincompoop!” Since I had the floor and his attention, I pushed ahead, but I made the fatal mistake of leading the interrogation by suggesting what he could play. I asked: “You don’t play jazz or something to break it up?” He smiled a plastic smile like a politician talking about a master’s degree from the Cayman Islands or the mysterious disappearance of his last two female interns, and then Professor Kasman crisply pronounced, “No, I don’t play...jazz!”

The word "jazz" rang out in hissing, sardonic tones. You could substitute just about any word for jazz and it couldn't have sounded more incredulous: jazz, hip-hop, badminton, trash can lids, marimbas, Parcheesi,  Texas hold'em, no, NO, I don't play those!!!!

I could comment here about not being able to grow musically or a missing dimension to one’s playing by stifling oneself in one genre of music, but what do I know? Kasman won the silver medal at a Van Cliburn competition, and I’m struggling with “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” in a broken intervallic mode. He performed in front of a thousand people on Friday night, as did his17-year old daughter and his 12 (10? 8?) -year old daughter. I'm lucky if Mrs. S pauses for twenty seconds as she wanders through the dining room while I'm pounding on my forlorn Yamaha digital.

No. Yakov don’t play jazz.

I do. And that's good enough 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.

Why you shouldn't suck in your musical performance: the audience matters

Recently, one of my Facebook friends, who also happens to be a childhood schoolmate and accomplished musician, commented on Facebook lamenting how hard it was for him to find a band to join. This came hard on the heels of him having to give up forming his own band, due to what I’ll call “lack of interest in being dedicated” from the musicians he recruited. The gist of Nooj’s comment was, making music or anything with artistic value requires a certain level of commitment, and it’s hard to find people who want to make that commitment. Then a mutual Facebook friend, Pat, who is an accomplished musician himself and also a childhood schoolmate of Nooj and I, chimed in against musicians who dismiss bad performances in favor of “just having fun”. Pat and Nooj’s argument is, on the face of it, quite simple: There’s nothing fun about sucking and the value of music (the TRUE value) lies in the commitment that leads to a good performance. (And I’ll go so far as to say, the definition of a good performance is, a performance the audience appreciates.)

A rendering of the St. Mel's church, where Nooj, Pat, and I spent many hours while growing up.

I couldn't agree more, and I wanted to add my two cents, but Facebook isn’t my favorite forum in the whole world for making cohesive arguments. So I dragged the topic here, to my blog. Here’s what I've found in my (extremely limited) jazz performance experience. (Keep in mind, this is all from playing in big bands and ensembles at a local university, where 90% of every band I was in was about half my age. It’s an important aspect of the argument I’m about to make.)

I hate making mistakes in a performance. Hate them. That’s why musicians practice: to avoid mistakes. The jazz idiom, however, is all about creating something on the spot. It’s not going to be right 100% of the time. It’s not supposed to be. Miles Davis said, “There are no wrong notes.” In fact, there are plenty of wrong notes. It’s easy enough to send your audience home by playing wrong notes. But in jazz, you shouldn't be surprised if after sending one audience home, another audience stumbles in to hear you play. That’s one thing.

The other is, as an older musician with more worldly experience but often less musical experience and talent than my younger peers in the band, I bring a unique perspective to my performance. I don’t get embarrassed if I make a mistake. I’m not happy about it, but I just keep playing. Most of the audience doesn't notice anyway. Younger musicians sometimes tend to try too hard. Mistakes fluster them, and I've actually seen bad performances stop good musicians entirely, “forcing” them to quit and blaming their study workload as they put down their instrument. I tried to impart to these musicians that we are up there, in front of people, doing something that the majority can’t do, and we ought to enjoy the experience, regardless of the type of performance we put out on any given day. Ultimately, the audience is what makes the musical experience what it is. There is nothing like performing in front of living, breathing people. And in an age when you can download videos and music at a moment’s notice on a whim, the live experience becomes ever more valuable and important. My friend Pat asked, “What’s fun about sucking?” Well, of course the answer is, “Nothing much.” My problem is, I’m just not very good. Nobody’s ever going to pay significant money to hear me play anything, anywhere. Just the same, I’m committed to making music. I know I suck, but, I try to always have fun, even when I’m by myself. (Maybe that’s why I don’t get any better.) Do I enjoy good performances better than bad ones? You bet I do. But I recognize that not every performance is going to be my best, but I can still (sorry Pat) have fun. I have to, because like I said, I pretty much suck all the time.

So basically, what I’m trying to say is, commitment is necessary, talent and ability, maybe not so much. What’s probably the most frustrating is somebody with talent and ability who doesn't make the most of it, especially for middle of the road musicians like me who are counting on them to cover for me a little, and especially when the talented musician is 19 years old and doesn't understand or appreciate what he’s missing if he or she gives up music for the wrong reason. If you are committed to making the musical experience of you, your band, and the audience the best it can be, bad notes are forgivable and you can mistakes all day long. I’m still going to ask you why you didn't practice a little longer the week before the gig, but we’ll all be better off for the experience than if we’d passed on it altogether.

And if Pat and Nooj ever want to play some jazz (Pat is punk/grunge, Nooj is rock) with me, I’ll hold up my end if they just don’t ask too much. I know we’d have fun, no matter what.

Yep. No way that was going to be a Facebook comment.

A night with two jazz legends

Right after the master class with Gary Burton, Mrs. S and I slid over the Bottega restaurant for a filling and extremely delicious dinner (her: mussels and shrimp risotto, him: lobster ravioli and rabbit pappardelle, both: tiramisu for dessert). Then it was back over to the Alys Stephens Center for the concert of a lifetime, Chick Corea and Gary Burton, together.

Turns out that the night we saw them was the second last date on their Hot House tour, which has been going on for something like a year and a half. More amazingly, Chick and Gary were celebrating 42 years of playing together. Let me say that again: these two guys have been playing together for 42 years. I've only been alive for 49 years, so, there is basically nothing that I've been doing for 10 or 20 years, much less 42. That told me right away (what I already knew as well), we were in for a special night of music.

None of the pictures of our awesome food came out awesome. This - the stage set-up - is about all we have to offer.

Among the songs they played: Strange Meadow Lark (by their late friend, Dave Brubeck), Eleanor Rigby (some English guy), and my favorite, Waltz for Debby (everything’s better with Bill Evans). Songs I wanted to hear and they did not play: Senor Mouse and Windows (both Corea compositions). The duet portion took up the first hour of the show. Although I have nothing against the guests during the second hour, the Harlem String Quartet (who were very good), I would just as soon have listened to Chick and Gary play together for another hour. (Then maybe they would have gotten to Senor Mouse.)

I could expound longer and longer about Chick’s fantastic playing, Gary’s inimitable solos, the difficulty of playing with sheet music, and the sound of a Steinway concert grand with a Musser vibraphone, but it would be like describing the color red to a blind person. Truly, you just had to be there, and Mrs. S and I were.

Chicago Concert Report

Mrs. S and I had occasion to visit Chicago recently, a great town that is just like New York in a lot of ways, except where New York never sleeps, The mid-westerners of Chicago roll up the sidewalks at 10:30 or so. Be that as it may, on our first night we managed to procure second row tickets to a fine double bill of Gonzalo Rubalcaba and Stefon Harris.

No confusion about when the concert takes place: TONIGHT!

Both of us were quite tired from the days travels and sight-seeing, and it was warmish outside, making for a stifling hot hall inside.I wish I could report that we fought through that and enjoyed the concert, but alas, the musicians and the environment failed to entertain us as well as I had hoped.

Rubalcaba opened with a solo piano act and it was, in short, technically fantastic. I’d never heard such dynamics and polyrhythmic lines and counters before. The songs were well selected, but very similar sounding, so I focused on his playing and was able to enjoy it more. Somebody’s cell phone went off way in the back, and it was one of those annoying hip-hop ring tones with rockets and thumping bass, and it kept going, and going, and going. Finally, Rubalcaba stopped to wait for the dumbass to shut off his or her phone, and when he did, everybody clapped because they thought the song was over. If it’d been me, I would have bowed and walked off the stage right then with a shout of, “You’re on, Stefon!” and I never would have looked back. Rubalcaba, on the other hand, had more patience than I, and he played out his set and a mediocre encore.

One concert, two Steinway pianos. Nice!

Stefon Harris was next, and he was fantastic. He was joined by Nicholas Payton, who is a superb trumpeter but unfortunately, on this night, he was a one trick, circular breathing pony. His solos really lacked depth and ingenuity. David Sanchez was also in tow, and while his solos were a little more fluid and better conceived, they were long and took too long to build up the tension, with the release coming only after the audience was exhausted and over-prepared. This may have been an unfortunate side effect of their band, Ninety Miles, blending several songs into long (thirty to forty minutes) operettas that again, the audience just couldn't handle. Still, Stefon’s playing was amazing, and I’m always up for good vibraphone music.

The walk back to the hotel was where we realized they had shut down the city while I was watching the concert and trying to keep Mrs. S awake. (Yeah, that kind of jazz was not her bag, at all.) At least, nobody begged for money during that twenty minute walk.

We’ll do Chicago again, sometime, but we’ll definitely wait for a better concert choice next time.

How things happen…sometimes

As part-time subscribers to several symphonies within driving distance of our home, we often get notifications (emails) about upcoming events before they've been announced to the general public, and usually these are accompanied by offers (opportunities) to purchase advance tickets ahead of the crowd. Not all of these concerts and events have appeal for us, but for the ones that do, we are usually pretty quick on the uptake when it seems our calendar is open on a given date.

This past week, the Nashville Symphony hit Mrs. S’s inbox with a Chick Corea/Bela Fleck concert next March. She comes in the room, tells me about it, and I’m like, Hell yeah! After she called me over to pick out tickets, we were $165 lighter and booked for a March 22 trip to Nashville.

Mrs. S kind of started wondering about why I was so anxious to try and see Chick Corea, especially with Bela Fleck, who we've already seen once. I showed her my chunk of Chick CD’s and she wiki’ed and Googled him, and was just as excited as I that we are going to see him. Still, I told her, if you ever see we have a chance to see him with Gary Burton, you don’t even have to ask me – just book it and I’ll cancel everything to go to the concert.

The next day, the Alys Stephens Center magazine,The Center, containing an article that Mrs. S and I agreed to appear in, arrived in the mail. One of the first concerts of the new season is, believe it or not, ChickCorea and Gary Burton. I was all over the email the next day, and managed to secure (I think, maybe, no confirmation yet) our usual contributing members’ seats in the front row. I am needless to say, ecstatic. Mrs. S asked if we wanted to sell out Nashville tickets, but I kind of don’t think so. We’ll see how we feel after the Birmingham concert.

And that’s how things happen…sometimes.

Never a bad time for Tyner

I commented about a year ago after Mrs. S and I saw Sonny Rollins that I felt attending concerts of these aging musicians was important because they provide links to some of the great jazz stars of the past. You go and see Sonny Rollins, a sort of protégé of Miles Davis, and suddenly, you are connected (in a manner of speaking) to Miles himself. If you see Herbie Hancock (review here), Sonny Rollins (review with Herbie Hancock photos here), and Ron Carter (who I haven’t seen yet), you have a three way connection. What’s more, these connections are through old people (obviously) who not only aren’t going to be around forever, they might not be around much longer. So naturally, when we found out McCoy Tyner was subbing for Charlie Haden in a concert in Nashville, we immediately jumped for tickets.

And last week, we saw Mr. Tyner at the Schermerhorn Symphony Center, and the connection to John Coltrane (pretty much my first, I think) was established. McCoy’s not nearly as in good shape as some of his counterparts, but he looked good. He moved slow getting to the piano, but he moved his hands fast once he was there. His accompanying band was good. Very competent, but nothing too outstanding. I sort of got the feeling they were laying back so McCoy could shine through. Because McCoy Tyner was a semi-last-minute replacement for Haden, they went with a much more typical-of-jazz approach in that they sort of called out tunes as they went along and they actually had to look around and coordinate their solos on the fly. It was, more or less, a jam session.

I felt that McCoy’s playing was a little loose at times, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he was hitting all the right notes or not.  One thing’s for sure: the Steinway piano he was playing sounded very sharp and clear, with huge solid bass notes that pushed the highs up, and a clear, bright upper register that positively floated above those long, fat bass notes. And of course, McCoy loves those thick, two-handed block chords, so even if his fingers strayed a little here and there, you were still getting these full, resonant, compelling tonalities that had a tendency to sweep and swell in unexpected places. The highlight for me was the first song after intermission, Walk Spirit, Talk Spirit. (If I could find the lead sheet for it, I’d play it myself.) It’s so typically Tyner, and it was really the only song the band sounded all together on.

I didn’t feel Coltrane at the concert, but I think he was there. Somewhere.

I hate to drive two hours and not be “wowed”, but I hate even more to skip it and miss my chance at a connection to one of the vital scions of jazz. That is to say, I’d do it again, and I no doubt will, someday. Wouldn’t you?

Flippin’ Birds

Lots of “stuff” has been going on lately, so I thought I would just cover as many bases as quickly as possible to get everything up to date.

The cardinals did not make it. Shortly after I posted the picture of their eggs, two of the eggs went missing. For the longest time, there was one egg still in the nest, but before long, it too was abandoned and vanished. The good news is that the cardinals managed to “flip” their one bedroom, no bath nest to a single mother robin, and she’s already plopped down three eggs in it:

Mrs. S's garden, cardinal's nest, robin's eggs.

 We also have a nest of swallows in the loft above our front porch, but you can’t see anything except the mud of the nest and the crap all around it. If I hear the babies hatch, however, I’ll probably get a ladder out and take a picture of them.

At work, I found a nest in back of our plant with four plover eggs in it. A week later, three hatched. The next day, there was no trace of the chicks, eggs or mother. They were either eaten, or they moved on. (I’m believing they survived.)

Those are plovers. They live on the ground. In rock nests. You would hate being a plover.

I got my stamp collection appraised. I was offered a dollar amount that was about one-quarter of the insured value. I knew the stamp market was depressed, but I didn’t know it was depressed enough to make me depressed. So, I won’t be selling my stamps any time soon, which means, I’ve got to find some other way to finance a piano purchase. (Hello, home equity line of credit!)

We went to see Chris Botti in concert in Nashville last Friday. That was a lot of fun. He did most of the tunes from his Live in Boston DVD, which was cool. We got five autographs and a bunch of pictures with him. Here’s one: 

They call Chris Botti a "smooth jazz musician", but no bop fan like me would be smiling like that if he wasn't standing next to a modern day, be-bopping, Miles Davis-inspired  jazz artist. Believe it!

Saturday we went to Birmingham and heard a Mozart concerto with the conductor playing the piano while conducting. That was a first. They took the top off the Steinway so he could do that. I’d never seen that done before, either.

The notes in my piano drill book are too small for my old eyes, and Mrs. S hasn’t had a chance to scan and enlarge them for me, so my piano playing is languishing at the moment. Plus I was counting on a new acoustic piano to revive my passion, but that is not happening soon. I remain stuck in musical mediocrity.

I’m thinking about buying some piano method books, really going back to basics. I don’t know what else can make me want to sit at the piano, other than visible progress in actual capability of piano playing.

My second 10K race is one week from yesterday. That’s the focus right now. In high school, I ran an 11K race in 53 minutes, 5 seconds. I did the math, and that translates to a 48 minute, 20 second 10K. I won’t be running this upcoming race that fast, but someday, I will. That will then become my official PB (personal best). If I can run better than 58 minutes 3 seconds in this upcoming race, that will be my “modern” PB.

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.