Give the people what they want?

In all honesty, I can't STAND "Take the 'A' Train."

It grates on me almost as much as "Satin Doll," which is my #1 most hated song. I love me some Duke, but I could honestly live out the rest of my life never hearing either one of those two tunes again!

I was just raging about "A Train" the other day to Joseph. Which is why I sat in complete shock, giving him my dirtiest teacher glare, when the other night at his Garage hit, near the end of his second set, I heard the iconic piano intro to "Take the 'A' Train." "WTF?", I glared with my eyes. He gave me a "give the people what they want" shrug and launched full on into the opening melody.

"Yeah! Take the A Train!" exclaimed the boyfriend of my friend whom I was sitting with.

"Excuse me," I muttered, deciding this was the ideal time for a bathroom break.

A few minutes later I returned to the bar, and became cognisant of an increase in noise level. Why are these half drunk trendy twenty-somethings sitting next to me all of a sudden so rowdy? And my awareness was shifted back to the band, where the pianist, Brooks Hartell, was banging out a 6 chorus, perfectly crafted, fantastically inspired stride piano solo, and the people were actually cheering him on!

I shut my eyes and for half a second felt transported back into "the day." The day when the unknown pianist sat at the out of tune piano at the local speakeasy playing for the non-musicians who actually liked the blues licks and improvised solos, inspiring them to dance and become rowdy, giving "jazz" the reputation of being devil music. This is what is must have been like, when people liked jazz and appreciated jazz, and the music was more about the sounds as they happened and less about the harmonic analysis or intellectual composition techniques.

We jazzers certainly like to (dare I say) over-think our music. There has been a lot of discussion recently regarding the place of vocabulary (read the comments) and education (IAJE's bankruptcy) within the vast, yet vague world of jazz. These are complicated issues with circumstantial answers. And yet I can't help but feel that we as jazz musicians, whose very nature is intrinsic to making order out of chaos, bring on the complexities of our genre ourselves. Our world is very small, very young, and currently very under-appreciated. It's hard for us to just let music be music, be it bebop, third stream, dixieland, big band, avant garde, or any other sub-genre of jazz. We feel the need to understand and define every aspect of the creation of the music, the social impacts of the music, the education or "street cred" of the music, and the category that the music falls into. Our egos are easily bruised and we look to one another for validation.

It is because of this jazz trait that I can't let "The 'A'' Train" go. I can't help but ponder the popularity of the song. Is it because it's about a subway line (an unreliable one at that!) in NYC and everyone (including New Yorkers) are fascinated with anything NY? Is it because Duke did an exceptional job of promoting this song back in the day so that it became ingrained in everyday life? Perhaps it was the educational system who chose this song as it's token jazz tune, thereby brainwashing America into thinking it is the only good jazz tune. Or maybe it's because that opening line is just so damn catchy?

Why? WHY! my over analytical brain screams! Duke, and others, had so many great songs, why was THIS the one that is recognizable by almost every non-musical person out there?

And then I think...

What does it matter? Aside from perhaps wanting to discover a magic formula for making my own tunes so popular, does it really matter why audiences love "Take the 'A' Train?" At least it's a Duke tune and not some crap like "Yakkity Sax."

And the thing is, it does work like magic!

For the first set and a half, Joseph and his quartet played a great balance of standards and originals. It was wonderful playing, but they really could have been up there reciting scales over and over for all the patrons of the restaurant cared. No one applauded after solos, and no one acknowledged the band when they were introduced at the end of the set. That's not so abnormal, as the venue is after all a restaurant and bar, not a jazz hall. However, after hearing "'A' Train," the now drunk twenty-somethings were all into the music, cheering for all the tunes, and even staying for all 4 sets. All of a sudden the music was alive to them, and there was an energy and communication in the room. Isn't that what we as musicians, any musician regardless of genre, strive for? A connection to the listener?

Now I think it's safe to guess that the drunkards did not stick around because they were instantly transformed into active jazz listeners, eager to interpret the improvisations and arrangements of the tunes to come. But it is highly likely that the music created such an energy and vibe that fit the mood of the pending hook-ups, that the crowds stayed, if not for the genius of the music, but for the environment it created. I think we need to realize that our music does still serve that function. While we with our educated compositional minds do yearn to express and communicate various personal agendas with our music, we need to remember that if we want to call our music jazz, then we need to embrace the historical roots of jazz as (deep breath)... entertainment.

The word "entertainment" has a negative connotation these days. I hear "entertainment" and I think Britney Spears, cheesy chick flicks, and rag mags. But entertainment is defined as "something affording pleasure, diversion, or amusement, esp. a performance of some kind."

Our music is amazing in that it has the ability to be intricate, multi-layered, and in need of a (musically) intelligent listener to fully grasp the fullness and genius of the music. At the same time, the music can appeal to those who simply want to be diverted, pleased, and amused. We need not always have both goals within the same song, set, or performance. I do think there is a time for a more serious concert performance, and a place for the "lite" set. I also think it is possible to achieve both at that same time. Regardless of the your intent as a musician, I don't think we should value one goal above the other.

It is for that reason that I feel a bit ashamed of my elitist reaction to "the 'A' Train." My snobbery doesn't help the cause of jazz, or the essence of music for that matter. I won't quit trying to perfect the high level of expression and storytelling I hope to achieve through my compositions, but when it comes to playing for a young crowd, on a Saturday night, at a bar, after a long work week, isn't it okay, especially if it helps reel listeners in, to just count off a swing beat, and give the people what they want?

Hearts, Smiles, & the Blues

I may moonlight as a composer, but my secret identity is that of a part-time public elementary school music teacher. I teach Kindergarten general music, third grade recorders, a 4th grade beginner concert band, a 5th and 6th grade advanced concert band, and a by-audition only Jazz Band.

Every year on Valentine’s Day, my principal expects the music and dance teachers to put together a “Brotherhood” Concert. This concert is intended to be a celebration of heritage, community, and brotherly love. In reality, it is an exercise in stress, cramming, and the fine skill of organizing a concert with children 6 weeks after our last big (Holiday) concert. With the poor timing of standardized tests that occur in January keeping kids out of rehearsals, the Brotherhood Concert is usually very short with one performance (instead of the usual three) from each group.

With the stress this concert brings, coupled with the organizational problems and clash between teachers and administrators at my school, the concept of “brotherhood” feels like a stabbing, hypocritical joke. And yet, today my heart glowed as all hearts should on a day dedicated to love.

As a composer, I spend quite a lot of time trying to perfect the music I write. I agonize over each chord, motif, and voicing so as to most accurately express whatever feeling or emotion I am trying to portray. I strive to tell stories, and communicate certain ideas through the perfection of the music. This is one reason my current commission is taking so long.

As a teacher, I am constantly reminded, as I was today, that the magic from music comes not entirely from the perfection of the writing, but from the intentions of the musicians.

My jazz band performed a simple 5 note, three chord, medium swing blues that I wrote for them last year. They work hard to get the swing feel, but overall my bass player and left hand pianist (also playing the bass line) keep a pretty steady tempo. My sax players still have not figured out how to use their tongue or remember to keep their bottom lip rolled under, and my trumpet players still miss partials. Tuning is not a word they’ve heard me use, except for with the guitarists.

And yet, to be completely generic, they rock! What makes their music so enjoyable is the kids’ excitement. They are SO into it! I have to instate 5 minute breaks of no playing so they don’t wear their chops out. This morning I walked out of the music room onto the stage to find a tenor and a trumpet player standing next to the drummer, the three of them “jamming.” My heart swelled with pride!

They work so hard at it- before the concert started, my alto player played me the first strain of the tune and asked, “is THAT the right feel?” He’s almost got it. The majority of them want a solo, asking for one, then changing their mind, then changing their mind again.

I’m not one to call out or hoot and holler when I hear something I like. When I’m into the music, I find myself smiling.

Listening to my shy right hand pianist manipulate her F blues scale with confidence as the drummer and bass get super soft to accommodate, I can’t help but smile. When the drummer crescendos his 1 bar fill into the showy tenor solo, who has figured out the trick of the trill, I can’t help but laugh. THIS is music. The audience applauds loudly after I myself applaud, letting them know its okay to clap after each solo. The coda offers a Basie piano wink, followed by the only non-unison part of the song- the typical loud, dominant 7 chord finale. One of my trumpet players aims for the super high D in the staff, but misses. Its okay- the audience roars, and I smile.

Later, the chorus performs and I can’t stop smiling. Their faces are so intent as they start off softly, “Some… times in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow.” They over enunciate the “t” in “but” and I smile. They go all forte on the chorus- “LEAN ON ME!”… and I smile. They even manage to clap on the 2 and 4! They performed a second song, a two-part rather cheesy song entitled “Gonna Rise Up Singing.” This one featured two soloists- a 6th grade veteran, and a newbie third grader who is reminiscent of a young George Strait (or so I imagine!) Seriously, this song literally brought tears to my eyes. Not because of how well it was written, but rather from the passion and honesty with which it was sung.

Perhaps I feel this contrast so sharply because I am struggling to finish up this sax quintet. And I’m certainly not saying music should have no intelligence in its composition. I just appreciate the reminder that music does not have to be complicated to be wonderful. It just has to be heartfelt.

Valentine’s Day brings the blues to many, but today, my kids gave me something much better that a heart shaped box of chocolates (especially since it’s Lent again, so no sweets for me!).

They gave me the Blues. They brought magic to music. And that makes me smile.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Bottomless Links: The Premeire Edition

Taking a cue from Occasional Superheroine and her clever Occasional Links feature, I give you a brief list of links that have caught my attention recently:

Good Morning Captain America

This morning's edition of Good Morning America featured a cheeky interview with the new Captain America regarding his decision to carry a gun. The cool thing about this video is that it features short interviews with Joe Quesada and patrons at Midtown Comics!

Fair is Fair

Andrew Durkin from Jazz: The Music of Unemployment reports on a Craigslist posting regarding the continual audacity of Starbucks:

In response to this CL ad:

Beaverton Town Square Starbucks is reaching out to musicians and bands alike to come play for us. Gigs would be Fridays and Saturdays at 9pm, sorry but we can't offer reinbursment of any kind, but you can sell cd's and put out a tip jar. We don't
provide equipment, and we don't comp drinks. If interested E-mail Paul at
"blackbox098@gmail.com" for more information.Thank you and we hope to hear from you.

There was this:

Come make coffee for me at my home! I am reaching out to all Starbucks to come to my home and make coffee for me. The gig would be Fridays and Saturdays and sorry, I can't offer reimbursement of any kind, but you can put out your tip jar. I don't provide equipment, and I don't comp donuts. If interested email me for more information.Thank you and I hope to hear from you.

It's all here.

If you're unfamiliar with Durkin's Industrial Jazz Group, you really need to check them out!

Tourblogging: Latin America

Speaking of jazz... drummer John Wikan is on the road in Latin America. Check out his guest blogs on Darcy James Argue's Secret Society blog where he recounts his time in Nicaragua and Panama.

Some Serious Serialism

I've decided to make the opening statement of Blaine a 12 tone row. I haven't studied serialism in much depth so as I played catch up this morning, I came across this amazing scan of a Schoenberg tone row chart:

I suppose I should study and analyze it, but really, I just think it looks pretty!

"Where are the Velvets?"

Just announced: Tori Amos’ Comic Book Tattoo

According to my weekly letter from MOM (the Men of Midtown), Image Comics plans to release a 400+ page anthology of full color comic stories based on Tori's narratives. It's reported that collaborators include Pia Guerra, Hope Larson, Colleen Doran, Lea Hernandez, Chris Arrant, Star St. Germain, Derek McCulloch, Neil Kleid, Leah Moore, and John Reppion. Neil Gaiman is not confirmed, but still listed as hopeful.

I cannot imagine a comic book about Tori that did not involve Neil. Theirs is a relationship I find absolutely intriguing! From hearinmyhead.com:

After including a reference to Neil and to the Dream King (the main character in The Sandman series) in the lyrics of Tear in Your Hand, Tori had a friend deliver a tape of the song to Neil at the San Diego comic convention. Neil, who receives many tapes from fans which he says usually "magically become blank tapes" remembers, "I listened to the first three or four tracks, and I was in love. It wasn't Little Earthquakes, it was sort of half Little Earthquakes and half what wound up being B-sides--things like 'Flying Dutchman' and 'Take to the Sky' and 'Sweet Dreams' and 'Upside Down.' but it was very obvious that musically I was a fan by the time I'd finished listening to the first few tracks. In fact it was ages before I spotted the 'me and Neil'll be hangin' out with the DREAM KING Neil says hi by the way'--that came much later." After listening to the tape, Neil, who lived in London, called Tori up, and the first of many wonderful conversations commenced. Tori now insists that the two knew each other in a past life. Neil states, "we were old friends immediately. Whether you want to view that as fact or metaphor, that is very much true."

Tori "winks" at Neil in several of her other songs and he "winks" right back by writing Tori and her lyrics into his stories. Tori wrote an introduction to his trade of Death: The High Cost of Living, and Neil wrote the liner notes to Strange Little Girls. The two have a mutual creative adoration and seem to gain continuing inspiration from each other.

In an interview Tori explains how she draws inspiration from Neil's Sandman character Delirium:

Yes, she [inspires me]. There are times I've spent with Neil where you know, we're toodling around and things you think you say in confidence end up in a comic book, you know? And then of course there are things that she says that I start saying. There's a strange sort of stealing going on.

Neil puts it a bit simpler saying, "I think she's absolutely magic."

I have long since been a big fan of both Tori and Neil. Favorites include Scarlet's Walk, Under the Pink, Neverwhere (which gave me pleasant nightmares), American Gods, and Stardust (the film is great, too). I have big plans of somehow convincing Tori to collaborate with me in a musical tribute to Neil's creations.

If that doesn't work out, perhaps I'll just write music inspired by the comics inspired by Tori's music.

...And maybe a few about Neil's stories, too!

RIP Oscar Peterson

The holidays this year are tinged with a bit of sadness; Oscar Peterson passed away this past Sunday. Unfortunately, not many seem to know. Such is the curse of a major holiday.

Thankfully, blog newbie Gregory Dudzienski was on top of his game, which is how I found out.

I never feel comfortable eulogizing such greats as Oscar Peterson, so I will direct you towards those who are better at remembering this beautiful jazz pianist:

NYTs

CNN

Settled in Shipping

The Toronto Press

She ain't heavy, she's my sister

Go see my sister, Jessica L. Fenton, who is only heavy in bizarro world, play a night of original acoustic duo music at Googie's Lounge this Thursday, November 8 at 9:30. No cover, one drink minimum.

Why support this nepotism? Because this city makes it incredibly hard for good music to be supported, and her music deserves to be given a chance by those eagerly sought after fans who come to the gig purely out of musical curiosity, not because they want to sound cool recapping their weekend at the water cooler on Monday morning or harbor a sense of obligation (not that we musicians don't appreciate the support from our friends and family who are often the only patrons at our shows).

If you know anything about my music, expect to hear quite the opposite from Jessica. While I like to think it was the many hours I slaved with my alto over the Bb Blues Scale along with Jamey A. and the play-a-long crew back in high school that influenced Jessie's musicality, the real credit should be given to my mother. We grew up hearing her play the baddest folk guitar in church those catholic priests had ever heard! There's no doubt that hearing my mom play every Saturday night for the "folk" mass as well as around the house occasionally, though not nearly enough, both Jessie and I, as well as our two brothers, were given a deep sense of the functionality of music- I don't think any of us really minded going to church those Saturday nights. It was worth it to hear my mom play and her friend, Carol Hayes, who had the most beautiful voice I had ever heard, sing. While I chose the academic route, Jessica followed my mom's path, and learned to play by ear. Her music is a prime example of why knowing all the music theory in the world can not make up for having an incredible ear.

When you come on Thursday, expect to hear a slight departure from her loud, full band "alternative pop rock" sound. This set will feature Jess on acoustic guitar and Jonathon Roberts, of her band The Stairdivers, on Googie's beautiful white baby grand piano. Those familiar with her music can look forward to hearing her more popular tunes, "What were you expecting," and "Wool." I am looking forward to hearing her lesser known tunes, "Hey, It's Ok," and "Routine Continuing." Jessie is looking forward to the beautiful white baby grand.

Check out Jessica's website and myspace, and we'll see you on Thursday.

Through the Eyes of a Monk Competitor

2007 Monk Competition semi-finalist Nadje Noordhuis guest blogs about her L.A. experience:

Selected as a semi-finalist, I was excited, anxious, focused, honored, happy. And the most nervous I had ever been in my
life.

Highlights:
- Meeting the other competitors and finding them to be genuinely lovely people, as well as ridiculous talented
- Not having to talk about being a female musician – it is 2007 after all
- Playing with the rhythm section of Geoff Keezer, Reginald Veal and Carl Allen
- Realizing what I need to work on musically
- Staying in a fancy hotel and sleeping diagonally in a king size bed
- Sharing an elevator with Marilyn Manson
- Being inspired by the live performances of Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Joni Mitchell and Sting
- Hearing a myriad of trumpet players do what they do best
- Feeling a new personal confidence, as well as being a part of something bigger than what I had believed possible for myself
- Free wine and cheese at the after-party
- In and Out burgers
- Charlie’s hilarious dinner napkin origami
- Splurging at the hairdressers for the first time in eighteen months
- Meeting the James Bond stunt car driver on the plane back to JFK
- Realizing that maybe, just maybe, if I break my current average of three small group gigs in the last five years, I could be a much better musician than I am now
- Realizing for the umpteenth time how incredibly supportive and beautiful my friends and family are to me

Lowlights:
- Having my legs shake uncontrollably with nerves whilst trying to play soft and low
- Not being able to drink coffee with an upset nervous stomach
- Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for it to be over
- Getting a blister from my new shoes
- Realizing that I have to keep worrying about paying rent for the next year
- Realizing for the first time in seven years that I have no paid gigs in the book. Tabula Rasa.


Favorite Quotes:

“Hey! Nice tone!” -Roy Hargrove, walking down the hallway of the Roosevelt Hotel

“Are you the girl that played the flugelhorn? Gimme a hug!” -Clark Terry

“You play beautifully” -Thelonious Monk Jr

Congratulations on making it to the semifinals, Nad! We are proud of you!

Musician Marathoners part 1

Yesterday I ran the penultimate brutal training run. After running from Sakura Park in Morningside Heights, along the Hudson River Park to Battery Park and back for a total of 18 miles, I am still, this Sunday evening, tired, dehydrated, tired, achy, tired, sore and tired.

I always (conveniently) forget how this stage of marathon training becomes so exhausting all other aspects of life enter a standstill simply because, I am just too tired. This is not good when there are commission deadlines looming and holiday music concerts just around the corner (note to self: do not do not do NOT forget to write up an easy "jazzy" version of Jingle Bells for elementary school jazz band by Wednesday!).

There are only a few more high mileage weeks left and then begins my favorite part of training, tapering! But until then, I am searching for a little extra inspiration...

Eric Alexander

I first learned of Eric's 2001 Chicago Marathon sub 3 hour race in December of 2003. I was in Honolulu for my second marathon and had just happened to pick up a copy of Running Times Magazine.

This highly entertaining article, published in Running Time's January/February 2004 issue, was extremely inspiring then, and still is today:

I'm a broken man," Eric Alexander says as we meet at noon for a run around the reservoir in Central Park. Thanks to his 19-month-old son, Alexander has been up since 8 a.m.—which wouldn’t be a big deal, except that he went to bed at 3 a.m. after headlining at Smoke, a jazz club on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The June sun is high and bright, drawing sweat to his fair skin and providing a constant reminder of his less-than-ideal hydration of the recent past.

"I took it pretty easy last night," he says. "Think I had only four beers. It’s rare to get through three sets on less than four. Maybe it was five." Alexander still has to take part in a photo shoot and give a saxophone lesson before leading another three sets that evening at Smoke.

So why, despite his comfortable, conversational pace, are we passing each and every one of the hundreds of other runners circling the reservoir? It probably has something to do with the fact that the only race of Alexander’s life was a 2:58 marathon. continue reading

Sean P. Diddy Combs

All he wanted to do was beat Oprah's 4:29:20 time at the 1994 Marine Corps Marathon. And in 2003, after only 8 weeks of training (!), P. Diddy ran the New York City Marathon in 4:14:54.

Causing much controversy from the amount of publicity and media he brought to the race, P. Diddy raised 2 million dollars for NYC public schools.

Carter Brey

As principal cellist for the NY Philharmonic, Carter Brey still finds time between rehearsal and concerts to train for a marathon. In 2002, he completed the NYC Marathon in 3:51:37. In 2005, he ran NY again, beating his record with a 3:32:39 time.

A few years back, Runner's World profiled Brey:

What made you run the marathon?
I went with my family to watch the runners go by at the edge of Central Park because we had a friend running. We went to cheer her on. And what I saw was so inspiring I turned to my wife and said "I'm going to do this next year." That was it. I saw these people going by who had done this incredible thing. Ordinary people like me. I thought "I could do this too."

Was it hard to train for?
That's a funny story. I applied on the New York Road Runner's website and I did not make the computer lottery. I was rejected. And I thought "oh well I'll try again next year." And at the very end of September I got an e-mail from the Road Runner's Club telling me they had such a precipitous drop off in the number of overseas applicants because of 9/11 that they were inviting me back in, so to speak. So I said great and I wrote back and I accepted. The only problem was that the New York Philharmonic, of which I am the principal cellist, was about to leave for a nearly month long tour of Asia. And at the end of September, I had what...about 5 weeks in which to train. So I did all my training on the road in places like Kuala Lumpur, Beijing and Manila. It was very unusual, to say the least. My training was pretty haphazard and not at all thorough. I already was maintaining a basic level of fitness, so I knew at least I could finish the race. It wasn't a big leap to try to get ready for the marathon. Although, this ext time I'll do it a little differently, I'll certainly start considerably farther in advance.

Was it hard to perform after the marathon?
Just the walking part. Fortunately, when I work, I sit down. But I remember taking a week off from running.

When the Philharmonic travels do you run in foreign cities?
Oh yes. All the time. Quite a few of us do. All the runners in the orchestra know each other and sometimes we arrange to go out in pairs or in groups. Or otherwise we'll see each other in the hotel gym on the treadmills. There are a couple of runners in the horn section and the other member of the orchestra that ran the same marathon is the assistant principal clarinet. Another runner is the second oboist.

Do you run before a performance?
It energizes me completely. I always feel better and more prepared mentally and physically after I've run. It doesn't tire me.

Do you run after a performance?
There's no reason not to, it's just that most performances take place at night. We're nocturnal creatures. But after a matinee for example there's no reason why I wouldn't want to go. I do have to say it's more likely it would happen the other way around because running energizes me but concerts deplete me. I find performing much more tiring.

Does being a musician help your running?
Not directly. But I think they both demand the same kind of discipline. The difference between a professional and an amateur in any field, certainly in music, is that the professional cannot depend on the inspiration of the moment to produce a high quality product. You just have to be able to do it even when you don't want to. If you're feeling lousy or if you just had a fight with someone, nobody cares, you just have to go out and do it. So, I try to apply that same type of discipline to my workouts. There are plenty of days where I just sit on the sofa with a magazine and veg out. But I try to maintain a commitment to fitness. It's like practicing everyday. There are lots of days when I don't feel like practicing either.

Have you ever run with a cello?
Strapped to my back? Only to catch a bus. I don't recommend that.

[incidentally, I have a friend who ran the Boston Marathon with a tuba on his back!]

Do you run to a beat?
Oh, definitely. I almost always have music going through my head. I bet a lot of people do. It's a very natural thing. Very often it's some piece that we happen to be performing that week.

Read the whole thing.

If you know of any other musicians that have also completed a marathon, please let me know!

Nad takes on Monk Competition

Congratulations to Nadje Noordhuis for making it into the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition. This esteemed competition will take place Oct. 27 & 28 in LA. Nadje will compete in a live performance against 10-12 other semi-finalists for a ranking, and up to $20,000 award money.

A division of the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz, the Monk Competition is one of the most highly recognized competitions in the jazz world, helping young artists gain notability. Major record labels attend the competition, and like American Idol (and this is the ONLY comparison) the 2nd and 3rd place winners often gain more fame than the top placer. It's an incredible honor to make it into the competition.

Each year, the competition focuses on a different instrument. To make it to the semi-finals, competitors have to be 30 years of age or younger, submit 5 different tunes meeting a variety of requirements, and have never recorded as a leader or co-leader on a major or independent label.

Nadje, in addition to being a good friend, is a fantastic trumpet and flugelhorn player whom I often utilize in my own compositions. She hails from Sydney and Melbourne, Australia and attended the Manhattan School of Music to earn her 3rd degree, a Masters in Jazz Performance in 2005. She currently plays around NYC, most notably with Sherrie Maricle & The DIVA Jazz Orchestra, Kyle Saulnier's Awakening Orchestra, and the Justice League of Jazz (yes, I've settled on that name for my band, provided the folks at DC Comics don't mind...). Occasionally you can catch her with her own quartet, the NNQ.

As I was browsing the list of winners, dating back to the competition's inception in 1987, I noticed that no female instrumentalists have placed number one. In 2003, Karin Harris placed 4th for trombone, and in 1995 Shirley Bailey placed 3rd for guitar. But so far no number 1s.

On behalf of all female jazz instrumentalists, no pressure, Nad...

Audience Participation Necessary?

There was a talker again last night. Oh, nothing irritates me more!!!

I was at Dizzy's with Sara checking out Sherrie Maricle & the DIVA Jazz Orchestra, part of the Diet Coke Women in Jazz Festival. We both have friends in the group and felt compelled to support our "sisters in jazz." And I have actually never heard the band before and was curious.

I was quite pleased with the set. The band swung hard and I enjoyed hearing Carmen Bradford sing her heart out. Janelle Reichman is a saxophonist you need to get to know. She was covering Anat Cohen's tenor chair and played her ass off on a Benny Goodman clarinet tune (wish I could remember the name). I also cheered loudly for Nadje Noordhuis's beautiful flugelhorn feature, Deborah Weisz's plunger enhanced trombone solo, Erica vonKleist's short but sassy alto solo, as well as Sharel Cassidy's alto feature.

I was very happy this band did not suck, as it seems to be one of the primary representations of female jazzers right now. But aside from genuinely enjoying the music, I was once again struck by the audience.

My first observation was that it seemed the band was more at ease than the audience. It was a full house, but a very polite house. The band started their first tune hooting and hollering for each other. The girls laughed, smiled, cheered during each other's solos. They behaved as you would expect any rowdy swinging big band to act.

The audience clapped and cheered at the expected moments, but that was it. Overall, they seemed a bit unsure. At one point Sherrie actually instructed the audience that it was okay to cheer whenever they heard something they liked. At another point, the man sitting next to me turned to me and said, "You sure are supportive." Why? Because I was cheering?

Hmm...

I don't think people know how to listen to jazz. And when I say people, I mean civilians. Non-jazzers. Non-musicians, really. I always wonder who the people are at these shows and why they are there. Are they mothers and fathers and friends of the musicians? Are they people that actually enjoy jazz and don't mind dropping $30 for the cover and another $10 for food/beverage? Or are they the dreaded self proclaimed "intellects" who still equate jazz with sophistication and are hoping to appear hip when at the water cooler Monday morning they relay their weekend hanging at Dizzy's?

Surely the men at the opposite end of the bar where the latter. They were the men that would not shut up. Really, how rude can you be?

I know this is not a new issue, the appreciation an audience gives jazz. I'm glad it's not just other jazz musicians in the audience. But I wish they would loosen up and try actually listening to what they are hearing. Not that I expect a "yeah, man" after every interesting statement a soloist makes. This was after all a big band and the audience most likely related to the overall sound of the band rather than the intricacies of the soloing.

But it did make me consider the different ways people listen and show appreciation for what they are hearing. I know I myself am not gonna be that listener that shouts out in the middle of solos when I hear something I like. But I am definitely a head-bobber. And a smiler. If there's a good groove my body is moving and if I like what I hear I am smiling like an idiot. Then there are people like my friend John, who sit there frozen and stone faced, but enjoying themselves nonetheless, usually ready with a complex analysis of the solo. There are also people like my other friend Doug, who back in college used to get so excited he would bust out into girlish giggles and hide his face in a pillow in attempts to contain his excitement over a Cannonball Adderley blues lick.

I believe music is a communication and that involves audience participation of a sort. Maybe Sherrie has the right idea in educating the audience in when to cheer. I know I spend a good part of every class I teach making my kids participate in "Active Listening" which includes appropriate concert behavior and a very basic analysis of what they hear. How else do we expect these audiences, specifically those new to the music, to know how to listen and that its okay, even better, to be an openly appreciative audience?

Two nights of very different music

Sunday Night:

Happy Birthday Mingus- Celebrating 85: Music of Love & Protest

Mingus Big Band & Mingus Orchestra with Gunther Schuller, Conductor
Lincoln Center Out of Doors, Damrosh Park Bandshell, 8 PM, Free

Mingus Big Band:
Saxes: Ronnie Cuber, Wayne Escoffrey, Abraham Burton, Vincent Herring, Jaleel Shaw
Trumpets: Ryan Kisor, Kenny Rampton, Lew Soloff
Trombones: Ku-umba Frank Lacy, Early McIntyre, Andy Hunter,*
Drums: Jonathon Blake
Bass: Boris Kozlov
Piano: George Colligan

*the name of the bass trombonist/tuba was left off the program and I regret I did not catch it during the acknowledgements

Mingus Orchestra
Alto Sax/Flute: Craig Handy
Tenor Sax: Wayne Escoffrey
Bass Clarinet: Douglas Yates
Bassoon: Michael Rabinowitz
French Horn: John Clarke
Trumpet: Kenny Rampton
Trombone: Ku-umba Frank Lacy
Guitar: Jack Wilkins
Bass: Boris Kozlov
Drums: Donald Edwards
Conductor: Gunther Schuller

Sunday night was a beautiful night for outdoor music. Cool and breezy, the sun set gracefully behind the concert shell, which Nadje pointed out, looked with it’s white arc as if it had been removed from the Sydney Opera House and sent north. Sue Mingus emceed the evening.

Contrary to the billing, the Mingus Orchestra played first. Most impressive was Gunther Schuller’s plaid jacket- cool in the 70s, still cool today. Actually, it was very exciting to watch him conduct. I am not too familiar with Mingus’s works for chamber orchestra, but after hearing the 5 or so tunes that they played, three from his acclaimed “Epitaph” (arrangments made of, course, by Schuller) I am most definitley going to check them out.

Highlight: Douglas Yates’s bad ass bass clarinet solo on Pithecanthropus Erectus.

After a short pause and set change, the big band came on. They picked up where the orchestra left off with more excerpts from “Epitaph” before kicking it up with my favorite of the evening, “Freedom.” Ku-umbra Frank Lacy outdid himself on the vocals and while up to this point the concert had been enjoyable, a new energy rippled through the audience during this tune. The set ended with the equally charged “Song with Orange.” Solos by Wayne Escoffrey, Jaleel Shaw and Vincent Herring made me happy.

Highlight: The grayhairs dancing in the audience to “Song with Orange.”

_____________________

Monday Night

Dharmashakti in Heavan

Integral Yoga Institute, 6th Floor, 7 PM, $20

Deian McBryde (Dharmashakti)- voice
David Freeman- percussion
Nadje Noordhuis- trumpet
Christian Pincock- electronics & valve trombone
Ursel Schlicht- keyboard
Adam Simmons- tenor sax, flute, & shakuhachi

Attendance to this show began as simple friend support. Nadje was playing therefore I was attending. However it only took a few chants for me to be fully engaged in this very out, but very enjoyable evening.

Until last night, I was a Kirtan virgin. I didn’t know it, in fact I had never heard the term Kirtan. In fact, I thought I was attending passively a concert of free jazz, not participating in the chanting of Sanskrit. I must say, chanting was a hell of a lot more fun than listening to free jazz for what turned out to be almost 2 and a half hours!

The kirtan was held in a yoga studio in what is technically the West Village (W. 13 St) but may as well still be Chelsea. I arrived early and was herded to the rooftop garden to wait, which I found even more relaxing than the Nag Champa burning in the gift store. Like any good jazz show, this one started a good 20 minutes late. It took another 20 minutes after the first “om shanti” for me to finally be able to look at Nad without laughing.

Overall, I was very much enjoyed the evening of Sanskrit and jazz. Deian did a magnificent job weaving between audience participation with chants and instructional listening (watch the recorder as it is held in front of the person creating the idea for the group improvisation). There were enough solos to satiate my snobby jazzer taste and there was even a tune in which Adam conducted the entire room in a group improvisation (this was quite interesting!). I thought the horn arrangements were great and won’t lie and say I didn’t feel a sense of connection and energy as the entire room engaged in singing (myself included). If nothing else- it was great ear training (when there is a drone going, it’s a constant game of what interval is this?).

One slight inconsistency blocked some of my happy-peace-energy. Deian welcomed the audience with smiles and patience as we responded on the wrong beats and wrong pitches to his undoubtedly deliberately thought out arrangements. But he did not treat the band with the same warmth. You could sense a perfectionist need for control as he communicated sans smiles with the band members. This definitely did not jive with the love yourself and the world vibe he so successfully created with the music.

Note to self: Stage presence is of equal importance, if not more important than the music. Alternatively, love your band members and don’t be afraid to let the music escape your grasp and develop into its own, uncontrolled entity.

Highlight: When Deian asked who in the audience passionately loved free jazz and a few people actually raised their hands!!

…

Two consecutive nights of completely different music; this is why I love NY.

Road Trippin'

My friends make fun of me.

I LOVE mix tapes, or as it is these days, mix CDs.

Yes, I am one of those people that feels a well crafted mix tape makes the perfect gift! From the early days of “Lawnmower Tapes I-IV” (made for the 2 years back in the Hubert, NC days when it was my chore to cut the grass of our 3 acre rental farmhouse with the very cool riding lawnmower), to the annual Christmas compilations (this year will make the 7th), to my favorite driving mixes, currently up to “Driving VII: To the MHR,” I love my mixes, especially the driving mixes. There is something magical to about creating the perfectly transitioning flow of music to match the mood of the intended drive.

I could easily go off on a tangent about the correct way to make a mix tape/CD, but everyone’s seen High Fidelity by now and should already know that the first 3 songs are like the thesis statement, allowing the listener to have a basic idea of what’s to come, you should never have the same artist twice in a row unless you are trying to prove a point of some sort, or it is part of a format to be followed for the entire mix, mixing genres is risky but can be extremely rewarding, and the transition from one song to the next is of utmost importance, otherwise you may as well be listening to the radio!

Sorry, tangent unsuccessfully avoided.

Driving mixes are my favorites because I love the escape a road trip offers, especially when accompanied by the perfect music. As road trips are seldom random, they almost always have instigation. Therein lies the beauty of the mix tape/CD (Okay lets be honest; no one makes mix tapes anymore. While having 2 sides can provide a poignant tool for the compiling, it’s just plain impractical to spend so much time recording in real time, or even slightly sped up dubbing. In fact, I really shouldn’t even be making mix CDs. If I were truly up with technology, I would be making Driving Playlists for my iPod and iPod car adapter. Nonetheless, I have no iPod so back to the dated CDs). The mix CD offers the accompaniment for the purpose of the drive.

Let’s take, for instance, the aforementioned “Driving VII: To the MHR.”

This mix was created for my short drive from Fayetteville, NC to Wilmington, NC, driven just a few weeks ago. I was leaving the marching band camp where it was my job to run saxophone sectionals for the annoying can’t get out of your head “West Side Story,” to attend the Manor House Reunion. The MHR is an annual meeting of spiritually connected sisters, no-pants parties, and otherwise general debauchery. I would go into further detail, but want to keep this at least PG in the case of possible younger readers. The gist is that every year Heidi, Amy, Redding, and I, former college roommates occupying the cutest little house on Manor Dr., meet yearly to emote, drink, and overall, be completely and utterly comfortable (a luxury not always available in this judgmental society of ours).

Giddy with anticipation for our trad margarita first night, I compiled a mix of laid back Motown, Pop, and Funk tunes, skillfully (I may add) weaving between artists of yesteryear and today, all designed to get me in the MHR mind frame. The first three songs are as followed:

“Put Your Records On” by Corrine Bailey Rae
“Lovely Day” by Billy Withers
“Tell Me What We’re Gonna Do Now” by Joss Stone

My drive from Fayetteville to Wilmington that Friday, watching the sun set, windows open through the country on route 87 (no interstates for me if I can help it!), iced coffee in hand, tunes blaring uninterrupted due to lack of cell signal (I meant it when I said country) gave me the first (in a really long time) real hour and half of deep, unrelenting, intense, desperately needed, peace. Or did I mean happiness? They were one and the same to me that evening.

That, to me, is the magic of road trips and driving mixes.

…

Of course there is the very significant added bonus of listening to the mix again. In fact, we girls listened to “Driving VII: To the MHR” a couple times over the course of our reunion as we traveled to the beach, celebrated Redding’s belated 30th, and primped ourselves for our annual night(s) out. And now, as I listen to it while typing, a bit of the country breeze and paling sky lightens within my soul.

There is magic in road trips.

My August road trip was not glamorous and only counted 2 new driving mixes, 2 states, and 4 towns (I also visited Jeanne and her backyard fawn down in J-ville) -pretty much only covered the I-95 corridor of NC and VA (with the slight spin off to the coast). But it certainly repaired my soul. (That and the week following in Fred-Vegas, mooching lovingly off my parents.) I aspire to an Elizabethtown worthy road trip one day, but this little bi-state trip satiated my need so that I was even able to Amtrak it back to NY happily.

My friend Heather knew of my trip and offered an excerpt to accompany the contemplative thought processes that are an inevitable side effect of long hours alone in a car. It’s from a book called “Through Painted Deserts” by Donald Miller, which now resides on my bookshelf, bumped up to next in line, after finishing Kerouac’s classic “On The Road” which I finally started after a brief digression to “The Nanny Diaries” (sometimes I just really love chick-lit).

I’ll conclude this epic ode to the mix tape (CD) and its integral coupling with the every so often desperately needed time honored traditional road trip with Heather’s very thoughtful and perfectly appropriate excerpt:

It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were...and feel a kind of sickness at the idea that you never again will be.

So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

The Accordian Universe

This picture graced the cover of today's Washington Post. I admit to instant intrigue.

Apparantley, Alexandria, VA, is the host of this year's 60th Annual Coupe Mondiale, the "world cup of accordian competitions for younger players:"

Imagine a universe exactly like ours in every way but for a lone
exception: There is only one type of music. Accordion music.
This week, such parallel universes have collided.

...

"The soundtrack of life is full of accordions," says Faithe
Deffner, the U.S. delegate to, and vice president of, the Confederation of International Accordionists, which stages the Coupe Mondiale every year. "People don't see accordions very much, but they're always in commercials, television, movies."

More than 1,000 accordionists have descended upon Alexandria to join with their musical kin at the week-long festival. There's an international competition in which 70 musicians under age
32 compete in six categories (winners will perform at 6 tonight at the Kennedy Center) and a domestic competition of 300 players.

...

In popular culture, the accordion is often maligned. Frank
Busso, 64, of New York, has played the instrument since age 7. He earned a master's degree in business but found playing and teaching the accordion lucrative enough that he never used the degree.

"The good appearances of the accordion are in the background," Busso laments. Nobody notices the accordion player in "Scent of a Woman" as Al Pacino, intoxicated by Gabrielle Anwar's perfume, sweeps her off her feet to tango. Nobody notices when the super-spies of "True Lies," Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis, are dancing to accordion music. They do remember Urkel.

"Steve Urkel," Busso says with a groan. "He didn't do much
for the accordion." Busso's referring to the uber-nerd from the '90s TV show "Family Matters," with his oversize glasses, suspenders hiking his pants well over his bellybutton, and his incompetent accordion playing. Sadly, the accordion got lumped in with the rest of it.

...

And so it is at the Coupe Mondiale. The accordion as uniter of
families, as breadwinner, as instrument of seduction, as the varsity letter's superior.

The article goes on to highlight several competitors, one who claims: "Without the accordion, I'd just be another drummer or something."

Read the full article here.

In Loving Memory

MAX ROACH 1924-2007

Darcy has already compiled a fantastic list of tributes and obituaries. I guide you there for further reading.

Pachelbel Rant

(Thanks, Red!)

$20 to talk

Last night, I went with Janelle down to Smalls to hear the Gilad Hekselman Quartet. With Gilead (guitar) was Orlando Le fleming (bass), Ari Hoenig (drums), and Joel Frahm (t. sax). Now I'll be honest, I'm not always that into guitar, but I had never heard Ari before and I always enjoy hearing Joel. So I decided that despite how incredibly tired I was from this long week of teaching (more on that soon), I would go ahead and cough up the $20 to hear the show.

We got there at the end of the first set. As we descended the stairs and turned the corner into the bar, we were immediately hit with an insane amount of notes coming out of Joel's sonorous tenor, as well as an insane amount of... talking! Aghast, I scanned the room and sure enough, everyone in the back of the bar was chatting away, completely oblivious to the incredible music that was being created at the front of the room.

As the night went on, this obnoxious behavior continued. Even during extremely sensitive parts of the music, when it was just Gilead picking out a beautiful, melodic arpeggiation, the crowd at the back continued to talk, laugh, and be completely disrespectful. I was not the only one annoyed as several times members of the audience banded together in loud "Shhh"s and evil stares.

I found myself shifting through several emotions as I listened. First, I would become entrapped by the music. It was a really good set. Gilead's compositions were beautiful and it never came close to the smooth jazz line that I often begrudge guitarists for getting too close to. Ari was completely and pleasurably out. I found myself focusing on his playing all the time (even during the sax solos!) trying to anticipate where he'd go next. I just had to try not to look at him too often as, I'm sorry to say, his facial expressions reminded me at times of Steve Martin's portrayal of Ruprecht, the "clinically-barking brother," in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels ("you've been banging on your pots again, haven't you" ...hee hee). Joel, as always, sounded beautiful. I truly love his tone and his ability to not always play the million notes he is capable of all the while carefully inserting his deep-seated blues licks where appropriate. Janelle and I both agreed it was fun to hear him in this non-standard vein and that it was his playing that added a certain element, an aesthetic grounding almost, to this group that would skillfully avoid time, off in their own practice rooms, just to spontaneously (so it sounded) come together and land precisely on 1.

As I became absorbed in the music and my listening became more acute, I continued to pick up the ridiculous amounts of talking in the back. I simply cannot stand talking during live music. I find it to be one of the rudest activities possible. I consider it such an offense that I literally spend the first 10-15 minutes of each music class I teach (with the exception of band) having the kids practice "formal listening." Every class I remind them of the difference between "casual" and "formal" listening and we discuss when it is appropriate to talk or sing along to music and what we should be listening for when practicing "formal" listening. I take it very seriously and lower grades when students talk or act up during the formal listening.

The patrons at Smalls clearly had no understanding of "formal" listening. Try as I might, I just could not mute them out and became incensed by it. How dare they come to a jazz club and spend the whole time talking. I mean, this was not some cafe with recorded music in the background. They had to pay a whopping $20 to even get through the door! And come to think of it, so had I! Now I was getting mad at the establishment. How dare they allow this talking! I did not pay $20 to hear people talk! It certainly made me more appreciative of the clubs that enforce a no talking policy.

Not that this behavior is limited to expensive clubs. It's everywhere. At my elementary school's Spring Concert the talking amongst the parents was insane. It was so bad by the end that Francesca, the director of the Chorus and Advanced Keyboard Program literally stopped her performance and addressed the audience, requesting them, in essence, to shut the hell up.

Why is this such a problem? Why do people pay $20 to sit in the back of jazz club and talk? Why do they willingly attend live music just to not listen? And why must those who are listening be disrupted by these barbaric offenders?

Help Wanted

I'm having a MASSIVE ATTACK of writer's block.

Deadline is one week from Sunday (June 24th). Page is currently blank.

Someone help me... suggestions PLEASE!!!!!!

(I think I need another cup of coffee...)

The Sad Song

Fredo Viola

Unfortunately, I cannot post the video, but go here and be uplifted by this sad song.

Monk for the Masses

Some of you have no doubt seen this already, but for those of you who haven't, it's hilarious! It takes about 4 minutes to view, so if you haven't the time, skip ahead to here.

Enjoy!

Missed Marathon

No, not another running marathon. This time I refer to Bang on a Can's annual Marathon. It was this past weekend and I had no idea. I am so sadly out of the loop.

As it turns out I wouldn't have been able to go anyway as I was up in Mount Vernon the whole weekend playing in the what had to be the world's most bipolar high school production of Dreamgirls. I say bipolar because the incredible lack of organization in the production which enabled the pit band to sometimes play, sometimes not, sometimes start just to stop halfway through a number did not matter to the audience who was there only to hear these quite talented high schoolers belt their way American Idol style through the plot. While a bit painful at times to play, it was mostly likely a pleasure for the community to watch.

While I did somewhat enjoy getting paid to play a continually out of tune flute (that auditorium was SO hot and I just could NOT control the pitch!) and smooth jazz saxophone licks (I actually prefer the out of tune flute!), I do wish I could have partook in the all night music down in the Financial District.

Lucky for me, Darcy James Argue chronicled the entire event. If you too were absent, check out his write-ups and photos here, here, and here. You'll be sad you missed it, too!