Chris Botti sticks it to me…twice

So call this the resurrection of Late to Jazz.

Back in April, we drove up to Nashville to catch our third Chris Botti show. Chris continues to try and build his reputation with an electric show of stunningly talented musicians playing an eclectic mix of jazz standards and less often heard songs, calling upon a diverse group of singers and soloists to add spark and interest and surprise. In Nashville, the biggest surprise was the appearance of young pianist Taylor Eigsti, an up and coming virtuoso who is recognized almost as much for his good looks as for his stunning pianistic skills. Of course, Sy Smith made an appearance, and the ever reliable Richie Goods, who I met a few years back, holds down the rhythm section.

L-R: Taylor Eigsti, Chris Botti, Richie Goods (Nashville)

Speaking of rhythm, Chris seems to have parted ways with his longtime drummer Billy Kilson, a percussionist of limitless talent who many, including myself, would have considered irreplaceable. But the man taking over the stool, Lee Pearson, is a force of musical nature unto himself. Besides incredible technique and force, he brings an originality and unique approach to his playing that adds so much more dimension to the music. His solo, utilizing everything from mallets, sticks, castinets, and even his hands, elbows, and head, leaves anyone who knows anything about music and drums just shaking their heads in amazement.

Sy Smith, Lee Pearson, and drumsticks during pre-flight.

Of course, he plays so fanatically, drumsticks occasionally go flying. And being in the front row, they end up tantalizingly close. Chris even picked one up and handed it to me. Then, with one laying on the stage as they strode off after their encore, I yelled to Lee to toss me the stick that was laying in front of his bass drum, and he did! We hung around just long enough to still be stage side when Lee came out to clean up a bit, and he was kind enough to sign the sticks. We almost got a photo of him doing so, but our goofy Nikon picked the wrong mode to use for the shot. (It does that a lot.)

Provenance: Lee Pearson signing a drumstick. Blurred image and lack of focus courtesy of our point-and-shoot piece-of-shit Nikon.

Then two weeks ago, we traveled to Atlanta to see Chris again, this time with Joshua Bell doing a classical bit up front, followed by a shortened version of Chris’s show with Joshua putting in a couple of appearances. Lee again did his solo, also a little shorter, with two sticks flying at the end. I was in the second row and this time, Chris just kicked the sticks to the front edge of the stage, well removed from me. At the end of the show, I casually wandered over there and asked the guy doing the breakdown if I could have the sticks. He said, “I’m sorry. They aren’t mine to give away.” Then he kind of looked away and said, “But I didn’t see anything.” I said, “I heard that,” and picked up the sticks. Just then, I noticed an usher at the end of the row heading toward me. I thought about hiding the sticks, but there was no sense, since he’d already seen me grab them. He said, “Those will make a really nice souvenir for someone.” I told him that I asked for them and that anyway, it was my second set from Lee. He just said, “Oh really?” and left it at that. I mean, I guess he figured that at that point, I wasn’t going to put the sticks back, they didn’t need to be put back, and somebody had to pick them up.

The mixed pair of drumsticks from the Nashville Chris Botti conccert, signed by Lee Pearson

So I’ve got four of Lee Pearson’s drumsticks.

The Atlanta concert, by the way, was the debut concert of a tour that Chris and Joshua are doing together. The classical bits that Joshua did with the orchestra were sort of in a traditional vein, with a bit of modernity thrown in with some lesser well-known pieces on the theme of the four seasons. (The show started with Vivaldi’s “Spring” and “Summer”.) Joshua kept it light, more or less setting the stage for Chris to rock out the place.

Joshua Bell and Chris Botti (Atlanta)

Chris’s numbers are definitely getting repetitive for me, but he continues to demonstrate incredible mastery of his instrument as his musicians help him and each other to dazzle. Geoffrey Keezer, who I also met acouple of years back, was on piano, and he was sensational and bluesy as always. He actually was another highlight of the jazz set, as he seemed to be crafting some edginess and surprises to throw in at unexpected moments. I think part of it was that he could see the orchestra, so he was helping his bandmates stick with the orchestra with musical signals. I noticed Lee had to keep turning around a lot and motioning with his eyes, head, and occasionally arms and hands. I won’t say the orchestra was missing their cues, but I think the conductor, Maxim Ashkenazy may have been a little out of his element.

L-R: Geoffrey Keezer, Chris Botti, Richie Goods (Atlanta)

Still, it was a great privilege to attend the first ever Chris Botti/Joshua Bell 2016-17 (?) tour concert, and we had a really great time in Atlanta. And I got four bashed up drumsticks for good measure. Not a bad deal all around.

Kyle Eastwood's First Trip to Alabama

Serious fans of Clint Eastwood, and probably a good many not so serious fans of Clint, know what a jazz fanatic he is. They know he frequents jazz clubs, has an extensive rare jazz record collection, has directed movies about jazz, and just generally has been a supporter of America’s music. Less well known is that he has a son, Kyle Eastwood, who is an accomplished jazz bassist, composer, and performer in his own right. With the benefit of Sirius XM radio, I have known about Mr. Kyle Eastwood for some time, and though I've always enjoyed his music, I wouldn't say I was a fan or follower of his. Nonetheless, when I found out the famous movie star’s son who calls Paris home would be in Alabama to give a concert, and there was an opportunity for a meet and greet for VIP ticket holders, I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to try to take in the concert. Unfortunately, I had an off-shift 4:30 AM meeting scheduled for the morning after the concert, so I was not sure expending the energy and effort was a worthwhile pursuit, but after Mrs. S saw a couple promotional picks of the good looking Kyle, she started pushing. I decided to at least call around and find out what I could about getting tickets.

Having a nice chat while I make Mr. Eastwood do some work.

So first, I called local chamber of commerce sponsoring the event. They had no idea about the VIP package and thought the tickets were $175 each. They directed me to the tourism board who also had no clue about the VIP package. They did, however, know the promoter (lady) who set up the concert. Turns out she knew Morgan Freeman, Morgan Freeman knew Clint Eastwood, and Clint knew his son (obviously). Anyway, she was able to give me the lowdown on the tickets, and through a stroke of good fortune, she was eating at a restaurant only ten minutes from my house the following night, saving me a two hour round trip drive just to go and buy the tickets. We were set for our next star musician meet and greet.

Eric, Kyle, and Mrs. S. Why they made him stand in front of a garage door for the photo op is completely beyond me. For the retouched version with a nice background, visit Mrs. S's Facebook page.

Juggling my schedule, we were able to make the one-hour drive late on Wednesday afternoon and enjoyed a sushi dinner near where the concert was being held, on the campus of the University of North Alabama. We arrived at the auditorium early enough to be ninth and tenth in the line, but still had to wait around for 30 minutes while everything got organized. Kyle is a very cool guy. I was the only one who brought CD’s (3) to have signed, and he was quite surprised. (“Wow. You've got a lot.”) We chatted about how his blue shirt matched my tie, and I thanked him profusely for making the trip to Alabama. He was very personable and pleasant.

Kyle Eastwood in concert. (Photo © Mrs. S)

The concert had one very good country western opening act (duo), then a blues trio that was excellent. They played way too long, though, as no one was really there to hear blues and a little blues guitar (E-A-E-B-A-E, etc. etc. etc.) goes a long way. Then came a four man jazz trio, and they played a great version of “Blue Bossa” and the piano player, Harvey Thomspon, satisfied the crowd with a nice rendition of “Last Date”, among their four tunes. Then came Kyle.

One of the worst and one of the best piano players in north Alabama, me and Harvey Thompson.

He has a great band, with two horn players, piano, drums, and him on bass. He also played all his good songs, mostly the opening tracks from his last three albums. He was extremely talented and capable. He didn't show up at the after party and nothing at the after party was included with the ticket, so that was a bust. We drove the hour and ten minute drive home and got to bed by 1AM, and two hours and forty minutes later, I woke up to go to work. Was it worth it? Sure it was, but I’m getting too old for this. Making arrangements for and getting to and from these spur of the moment concerts will be much easier when I’m retired. I look forward to my next career as a jazz musician and music writer.

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 I Still Don’t Own an Acoustic Piano, Part Three

Or, Wading Through the Piano Ad Jargon, Part One

Piano sellers, God bless them, are a unique lot. There are a handful of realists out there, but for some reason, 95% percent of the people trying to sell a piano on e-bay or Craigslist see a gold mine and not a money pit. They aren't going to admit that there are a plethora of nicer, and correctly priced, pianos out there because for whatever reason, they think their piano is better or “special”. For this reason, it’s safe to say their viewpoint is not going to improve and they will continue to embellish the descriptions of their marginal (or worse) pianos. So, for those who are new to the piano buying game, I thought I would put my three years of experience and acquired knowledge to good use and compose this “Piano Buyer’s Guide to Piano Seller’s Jargon”, just to help out. It’s not all inclusive, but you should get the idea by reading through the short list below:

Seller says = Actual meaning

Brand new = a couple years old

Close to brand new = it’s pretty new, but something on it's broke

Like new = it was new, once, a couple years, okay decades, ago

Vintage = really old, which is why it doesn't work but I’m still trying to sell it

Antique = my grandma got it from her grandma and it’s been in our family ever since and we didn't know what to do with it aside from putting framed pictures and doilies on top of it

Requires TLC = broken

What the seller sees

Just needs tuning = just needs new pins, thirty or forty strings replaced, a dehumidifier or humidifier, and two tunings by a professional, at least two weeks apart

Not all the keys work but can easily be fixed = will only cost a couple thousand to get in working order

Needs minor repair = we couldn't get it to work

A few nicks and scratches = one of the legs still has some paint on it

Great for a beginner = if you've never touched a piano before, you might even believe for a couple of minutes that this is a musical instrument

Nobody in our family plays = See “antique”

Our daughter only played it a few hours a week when she was little = the chocolate milk stain is quite faded and most of the snot has flaked off by now

What the buyer sees

Can’t bear to see this piano not being used = we have enough firewood

Sounds as good as the day we brought it home = I’m still as tone deaf as a rock under water

Seriously, it took me a long time to figure out a lot of this jargon, and that’s why I still don’t own an acoustic piano. (End part three)

Tomorrow: Part Four of Why I Still Don’t Own an Acoustic Piano, which will also be part two of Wading Through the Piano Ad Jargon

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.

The way things turn out

Thanks (?) to March Madness, our latest trip to New Orleans turned out a bit different than most. First of all, we couldn’t get a hotel room at a reasonable price, so we ended up at a B&B called Lanaux Mansion. Turned out some scenes of the movie “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” were shot there, and this would not be our first encounter curiously tied to that movie. We got to stay in the enchanted cottage, which was originally the laundry room for the main house, but now is converted into a comfy suite. We also had our own private entrance through the back gate and garden. The place is run by a nice southern gentlewoman named Ruth. We got along with her great, as her son lives in Japan and is also married to a Japanese woman.

A random shot of the outside of Snug Harbor. Yeah, man! Frenchmen  Street!

We ate at Stella the first night. I ate so much I got sick. We still went to Snug Harbor after dinner, mainly to make reservations to see Ellis Marsalis on Friday night, but we ended up staying for that night’s show and saw The Peter Harris Quartet, which was fronted by an exciting young saxophonist, Derek Douget. It was all I could do, however, to not pass out and throw up. I didn't look in such bad shape before the concert:

Not feeling the Mac effects...yet.

As the night wore on, I was not in good shape, and I think it was the Big Mac and fries at lunch time that gummed up the works (I eat McDonald’s about twice a year). A good night’s rest turned out to be all I needed, and all was well from then on.

The next day looked like rain, so we basically just wandered around the city, spending money with all the basketball fans in town. I got my usual voodoo accoutrements, hematite rings, Old New Orleans Rum, and Mrs. S got her shrimp spice and a couple of knick-knacks and doo-dads. We ate at Acme, where we actually had to line up at two in the afternoon.

That night we saw Joshua Bell at the First Baptist Church. The parking lot attendant told us that if we took our car out of the lot, we were pretty much giving up all hope of parking in the French Quarter again for the day, so we took a cab instead. That turned out to lead to another interesting encounter (next paragraph). The concert was not very exciting. It was an average concert. JB was great, as usual.

We didn’t hurry to leave the concert after it was over, because Mrs. S wanted to take as many pictures of JB as possible. This turned out to work in our favor, as she took a picture of a nice woman and her husband hounded Mrs. S to be sure and send the photo to him. When he learned that we didn’t have a ride back to town, he generously offered to drive us. We accepted, and so me and Mrs. S ended up in Robert and Nell’s Buick (I think) heading back to the French Quarter. Well, when we mentioned the Benjamin Button connection with our B&B, Nell told us about how her mother’s house was used for about half the movie. The studio appropriated their house for 50% of the time over two years of filming. They met Brad Pitt and a bunch of other famous people. It was quite a story. Our ride was too short, and we bid them adieux.

From there we made our way back to Snug Harbor and were able to catch the last half of Ellis Marsalis’s show, again with Derek up front. They played a really cool version of a song I like, and I managed to keep it in my head for a day, but it got shoved out after we listened to music during dinner on Saturday after we got home. Anyway, I bought Mr. Marsalis’s latest CD and he signed it for me. Unfortunately, Mrs. S had her phone off and I’d forgotten mine, so we didn’t get a picture of that, but here’s the signature on the CD booklet:

Why do these older gentlemen always write so neatly?!?!

 The next morning, we nearly got run off the road twice before we finally got on the highway and headed home, uneventfully.

The trip turned out okay. 

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.

New York Jazz Club Reviews - Part 4

Birdland –  On our last  day in New York, Friday December 9, it seemed that our chances of catching the late show at Village Vanguard to see and hear Bill Frisell was not going to work out. It was far away from where we were, and the guy taking our reservation couldn’t spell Sedensky to save his life. Since Birdland was close to where I was going to be and the thought was that Mrs. S would get out of her concert early enough to make time to get to the jazz venue, that’s what we reserved. Dinner was far more of a challenge. With the concert and musical to break up the evening, we didn’t really want to do a heavy dinner late, so we were leaning toward a light dinner early. Unfortunately, 3:30 on Friday afternoon is not the best time to be making reservations for 5:00 on that Friday evening. Faced with no choice and a long walk to the theater, I convinced Mrs. S to just walk down the street and see what we could find. We found a decent sushi place and ate sushi then headed to the concert/musical. Mine was a lot farther away and I had to navigate Times Square, and, stupid, I went looking for where Birdland was before I realized, I needed to get to the theater. I made it with enough time to go to the restroom and find my seat just as the lights were going down. It was great seeing Brooke Shields in The Addams Family musical, even with the drunk lady in the front row ruining the show. (Amazing that a house filled with families of small children was besieged and disturbed by a 50-year old drunk woman. Mercifully, they kicked her out at intermission.) After the musical ended, I headed straight out, made my way the two blocks over and one block down, and arrived at Birdland to find, they didn’t have my reservation. Fortunately, there were plenty of tables and I was quite early, plus it wasn’t that crowded, so I got a prime rail-side table overlooking the front row tables, right behind the piano. Mrs. S showed up after I was halfway through my first beer, and we ordered up beer and wine and sliders: 

That's Brooklyn Lager, the best beer I had in NYC, and don't those sliders look scrumptious!

We then settled in to hear the Frank Wess Quintet play one set. I’d never heard of this guy, but they played mostly originals and everything was good. I would say, however, that the show was too expensive ($20 to see Frank Wess, which would have been $40 if we didn't get half price for having a Broadway show ticket stub - Bill Frisell, by comparison, was just $25 at the Village Vanguard) and they only played one short (hour and ten minutes) set. 

The Frank Wess Quintet lights up Birdland.

‘Course old Frank turned 90 years old that week, so, we didn’t complain. At least he didn’t die on stage. Unlike the Blue Note, Birdland I would do again, as long as the performer was somebody I wanted to see.

New York Jazz Club Reviews - Part 2

Blue Note – Prior to arriving in New York, we toyed with the idea of visiting the Blue Note by attending a concert featuring Manhattan Transfer. Neither Mrs. S nor I, however, are huge MT fans, and the $65 price tag seemed prohibitive. Not to mention, the Blue Note website makes it sound like seating is pretty haphazard, and we didn’t really want our first jazz club experience to be something that we had to leave to chance even while paying through the nose for, so we decided we would just drop in to the club on our first night, time and energy levels allowing, and listen to whatever they had going on that night. Arriving in New York on a Tuesday and with rain coming down steady, we played it conservative and had dinner at a hole in the wall Japanese place first (not really being thrilled with the burger-and-fry fare on the Blue Note menu on their website). Hagi (name of the Japanese place) was tasty and expensive. From there, we managed to figure out how to ride the subway (computers were down, so buying a Metro Card was tricky), but we sorted that out and got to the Blue Note about fifteen minutes before the 8:00 show time.

There was already a pretty good crowd inside, but there were still plenty of seats. Problem was they were spread around and we didn’t have any way of judging which would be good or bad seats. When in doubt, the best seats are usually right in front, so that’s where we went. Mrs. S was right on the main aisle, I ended up across the table from her under the guitar player’s music stand, next to a Russian tourist drinking a nice bottle of red wine by himself (more about that later). I literally had to climb to get to my seat. The picture below shows approximately the kind of view I had, which is to say, the picture shows that I could hardly see much of anything despite sitting in the front row.

$5 minimum?!?! So one martini and I'm good for the night, right? Screw it! Get Chris Botti out here. NOW!

The show was a Christmas gala with a bunch of competent, not-famous musicians. They played some fancy arrangements of familiar tunes, nothing too exciting. We drank wine and enjoyed the show. Funny thing was, one-fourth of the Manhattan Transfer, Janis Siegel, sang one song, so we really made out good getting to see her and not paying $65 for the privilege. (She's the one with big funky glasses if you Google or YouTube "Manhattan Transfer Jeannine". Awesome!)

Ms. Janis Siegel, center, performing "Deck The Halls"

When our wine ran out and the show was winding down, the Russian tourist shared his bottle of wine with us. He was drinking the good stuff: a bottle of something Sicilian, very scintillating on the tongue, smooth on the palate, that left a faint grapey currant wash on the gums. Really stunning and all the more unfortunate that I can't remember what it was called. And more unfortunately, his English was completely non-existent, and my Russian from my college days was only a little better, so we couldn't really chat with the guy. (We did try.) Once we got outside, Mrs. S wanted to take my picture, which is generally a bad idea most of the time, and a terrible idea late at night after I've been drinking. No surprise then we ended up with this "deer in the headlights" shot with the Blue Note as background.

No. I mean, yes. What was the question? Leave me alone!

My conclusion after visiting the club is the Blue Note is the Mount Fuji of jazz clubs: Everyone should definitely visit once, but unless you are a local or there is a real headliner playing there, it’s probably not worth a second trip.

New York Jazz Club Reviews - Part 1

Our recent trip to New York (December 6-10) was specifically for Mrs. S to (yet again) see violinist Joshua Bell in concert. While she would attend the concert three of the four nights we were to spend there, I was only to attend one concert, being left to my own devices to visit jazz clubs, hang out in bars, or otherwise kill two hours each night while Mrs. S enjoyed the concert. After discussing and planning, however, and considering that one of the highlights of any New York trip will certainly involve food, we decided to move things around a bit, cut short her attendance at one of the concerts, and keep our activities centralized so that we could enjoy the bulk of the activities together. This resulted in us being able to visit three jazz clubs (two of which we also dined at) together, and me being able to see Brooke Shields perform from the second row of a cozy theater (hubba-hubba). To sort of replicate the feel of that week, I will be posting reviews of the clubs over the next four days, in the order and two weeks after the fact of each visit. It should be good. Anyway, here’s Mrs. S and me in front of Macy’s. 

We hope you like this photo, because if you’re getting a photo Christmas card from us, this is the shot. (If you’re getting a plain card from us, this is what you’re missing.)