Trial By Fire: Episode One

Roy Haynes: where does he get his energy?

"Pressure creates diamonds", said somebody wise. In other words, a little kick in the ass can help you get to the next level. There's many ways to describe the struggle, the hard work, the day to day , year by year effort it takes to achieve something. Some people are innately driven; others need guidance. And talent is not enough; in fact, talent can be one's worst enemy. I always tell my students that I'm not talented at all, that all that I have achieved came through years of sacrifice and hard work. And the struggle might not end when you think it's supposed to. This is actually a good thing; so many in our society spend their golden years by the pool, driving around in their golf carts, and catching the Early Bird Special at 4 pm. There's nothing wrong with that, but wouldn't you want to spend those golden years creatively? Look at Roy Haynes; he should have by all rights retired years ago, yet he plays the drums with more vim and vigor than my 20 year old students! I saw Hank Jones before he passed away, and he seemed like he was still trying to improve! Isn't that beautiful?

Geoffrey Keezer: hearing him really got me to practice

The toughest thing you can do is look at yourself critically. However, this is essential for development as a musician, as well as a human being. And to take criticism in whatever form, even if it's dead-on- the-mark, exactly what you need to hear, is also tough. Believe me, I am extremely sensitive to criticism. But when I think back on my early experiences, I can honestly say that the figurative musical "beatings" I took stay with me to this day. They made me stronger. And this sort of "beating" might take the form of just hearing somebody better than yourself.(I've spoken about seeing Geoffrey Keezer at Bradley's in the 90's; hearing him play piano with his incredible virtuosity one time keep me practicing 4 to 8 hours a day for 3 years.)

But some "whuppings" can be somewhat humiliating at first. Especially if they are on a stage and all eyes are on you, and not for the best reasons.

The great Ernestine Anderson

When I was a resident of Washington D.C., in the early 90's, I was called last minute to sub at Blues Alley with singer Ernestine Anderson. (The original pianist, who will remain nameless, didn't show up to sound check, so I was called) If you don't know Ernestine Anderson, she's a legend; many have compared her to Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughn, but I think she's actually more bluesy. She's 82, so when I worked with her, she was in her early 60's. She's been recording since the 1950's. I've listened to her older stuff and newer stuff, and I actually think that she has gotten better with age. (She made headlines recently because she had problems with the mortgage on her house in Seattle; apparently, Quincy Jones and others helped her save her home.)

Keter Betts

So I drove down to Blues Alley with my tuxedo, to begin a three night stint with Ernestine Anderson. In the rhythm section was the late great Keter Betts on bass and Harold Mann on drums. So most of the group is in their 60's, except for me in my 20's. Clearly, I was a novice compared to everyone else on the stage. I wasn't afraid, but I was a little self conscious being the youngest musician by four decades. Usually, with a singer backed by a piano trio, the pianist plays the Musical Director role, just out of practicality(everyone can see the pianist, the pianist can play intros, etc...). So here I was, an embryo compared to Betts, Mann, and Anderson, trying to basically lead the ensemble. And did I mention that the charts were chicken scratch? I couldn't really read the charts, but I did my best trying to figure out what to play.

The first two night went OK. I was amazed at Anderson's energy, especially for a 60 plus year old; I remember being exhausted by the end of the first set, and it seemed like every successive song gave Anderson more and more stamina. Anderson had a lot of confidence and flair as a performer; at a certain point in the night she would say "This is the part of the show where I take my shoes off!" And the energy would go even higher.

Keter Betts tried to help me; he had played with most of the great vocalists in jazz history. "Now George, don't be playing all that Chick Corea stuff," he advised. "You get in there and play some nice block chords, and comp, and lay in the pocket." I listened and took note. Honestly, I probably wasn't the ideal pianist for the gig.(Maybe I was only pianist they could find that wasn't working that weekend!) But I was enjoying the gig, despite the pressure, and was really impressed with Anderson. Every night, the club was packed, both sets.

The third night, I'll never forget, because I suppose that after three nights of playing a gig, and if everything is going smoothly, then you might start to get a little cocky. You might get a little complacent. I'm never one to get too complacent, but I'm just trying to find the reasons for what happened during the first set of the third night.

We were playing a standard, kind of a medium tempo swing, and it was fine. It's typical, especially with singers, to play a turnaround at the end of a song, as a kind of extension, or even a coda. It can vary in length; sometimes, it can be merely a few bars, other times it can be quite protracted. There are different types of turnarounds, if you know jazz theory. Some are, for example, in the key of C:

Dm7    G7        Em7       A7      Dm7    G7        Em7       A7 

or it might be


Em7  A7        Dm7   G7     Em7  A7        Dm7   G7

It really depend on the song, or what the bass player is playing, etc. So many of the tunes we had played had used a turnaround at the end, with a typical ending, usually directed by yours truly. However, this one particular song, it seemed as though the turnaround I was playing was not what Miss Anderson was wanting to hear. So she would sing, and then listen, and then sing, and then turn to me and say:
"Turnaround!"

And I looked back as if to say,"Miss Anderson, I am playing a turnaround!"

And then she would say it again:

"Turnaround!"

And I looked back again as if to say, "Miss Anderson, this is a turnaround!"

And at a certain point, I panicked. And something in my inner instinct said "Abort! Abort!" And I started to play a very clear, stock ending, figuring that if we wrap it up, then this awkward feeling, of not knowing what's wrong with the turnaround, will surely end, and we can move on to another song.

But it was not to be. Miss Anderson started screaming as loud as she could on the mike: "NO! NO! NO! I'M NOT FINISHED! I"M NOT FINISHED THE SONG!"

Meanwhile, my forced "ending" had actually been picked up by Betts and Mann, but slightly delayed, so that as Anderson was screaming, the rhythm section was still ending the song. That made it look and sound even worse. Meanwhile, I had already gone back to playing a turnaround, which I still was not sure if it was the right turnaround. Clearly, my confidence was eroding by the second....

And then of course, the audience was laughing hysterically, possibly thinking that it was part of the show, or maybe just enjoying the "beating" that I was taking, being the baby on the stage. I felt hot; my tuxedo closed in on me, and very swiftly became a sauna suit.

"NO! YOU DO NOT FINISH THE SONG BEFORE I'M FINISHED WHAT I GOT TO SAY!" declared Miss Anderson. As I pounded away my version of the turnaround, I looked up sheepishly as if to say, "Yes, Miss Anderson, I will play the turnaround until you give me a clear signal, and only then will I attempt to bring this song to a smooth landing..." 

I was of course, very embarrassed. However, I look back on that and realize that that one incident, among other incidents, really made me a better musician. I went on to play with many great vocalists, including Cassandra Wilson, Vanessa Rubin, Janis Seigel, Shelia Jordan, Richard Bona, and many others. I think that trial by fire really showed me how focused a pianist has to be when working with singers. You have to develop a symbiosis, a telepathy, a way of communicating through the music and through unspoken cues. It was definitely uncomfortable at the time, but I have a lot of gratitude about the incident. It made me stronger in terms of "rolling with the punches".

And that's why I tell my students to look for situations outside of their comfort zone; if you just lift the same weights week after week, you'll never get stronger. Hence, don't be afraid to try things that you aren't a master of yet, and don't be afraid to fall on your ass. As long as you get back up, you will grow.

Addendum To My James Williams Article

James Williams

Many of my readers seemed to enjoy my article about the late great pianist James Williams. What I forgot to include in that article was this little anecdote:

I lived in Brooklyn for much of my tenure in New York City.  I was living in Park Slope in the summer of 1999, and at the time, I was a little worried about gigs. As luck would have it,  bassist Lonnie Plaxico called me out of the blue to join the band of legendary jazz vocalist Cassandra Wilson. We would have nine straight weeks of touring in Japan and Europe. This would start in late September.  I was excited about it, and I felt as though my luck had taken a clear turn for the better.

Scene from 12 Angry Men, with Henry Fonda and  Jack Klugman

I had forgotten about the fact that I had gotten that dreaded jury duty notice in the mail earlier in the year. I had already deferred it twice, so at this point, I had no choice but to show up to the downtown Brooklyn courthouse to take my lumps. I had heard that most people spend a few days in court and then you're done. Most people don't even get put on a jury. However, I had also heard that occasionally, you get stuck on a jury for some murder case or something, and you could be sequestered for 6 months! I had nightmares about having to give up a major jazz tour because I was stuck in a scene from 12 Angry Men or something.

This might get you out of jury duty...

Anyway, I arranged to go in August, with the hopes that even if I was put on a jury, the trial would be over before my tour was set to start in September. I also thought that having an impending tour might be a good excuse as to why I shouldn't be put on a jury. I had also decided that I would say whatever I had to in order to appear biased, or just uncooperative. ("Your honor, if it pleases the court, I must recuse myself from this murder case. I cannot possible be unbiased, for you see, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather was murdered by British soldiers in the Irish Uprising of October 1641. I'm still in mourning, as you can see, because I've just come from an Irish wake, and I'm drunk on Jameson...)

Matlock!

So I show up to the courthouse. It's full of colorful Brooklynites from all walks of life: almost every ethnic group in existence is represented. From West Indian civil service workers who are glad to have a day off, to WASPy Park Slope yuppies who are clearly annoyed to be there, to senior citizens who are hoping to get put on a case where Matlock is one of the attorneys, it's a motley crew to be sure. A judge enters the court and explains to us that this is our duty as citizens of the great U.S. of A. blah blah blah. We watch a short film about the logistics of it all, why this is important to our legal system, etc... I'm bored already, but also nervous that appearing bored will put me in contempt of court somehow.

And then I look to my left, and I notice a familiar profile sitting a few benches over: lo and behold, it's jazz pianist James Williams! I immediately go sit next to him. We greet each other and talk about the funny coincidence that we both should be there on the same day. Williams also had a similar dilemma as I did, in that he had a tour which began at the end of the week, and he could not risk being put on a jury and jeopardize his gig.

Now would be the time to tell you what I was told by some of my musician friends; anytime they got a letter from Kings County requesting their presence at jury duty, they promptly threw it in the trash. I considered doing this, but fear of repercussions was too much for me. I've been told you could get fined up to 1000 dollars. Maybe some have done jail time, who knows? I think it's the sort of thing where they have so many people, maybe too many, that do show up for jury duty, that it's probably a waste of resources to actually enforce making people show up if they don't want to go. 

Anyway, back to my day in court: Williams and I were sitting there, chatting, when they made the announcement that they were collecting the jury duty notices that we had received in the mail, so that they could keep track of who had shown up that day. At that point, Williams got quiet, and he seemed to be planning his escape. "I think I'm just going to go home," he said. " Can you call me later and tell me what happened?" I said I would and Williams got up and sneaked out of the room. I was thinking of following suit when the bailiff took my jury duty notice. "Damn, I guess I'm stuck here...."

Luckily, I did not get put on a jury, probably because I just tried to look angry when the attorneys talked to me. I said I was self employed, and that every moment in the courthouse was taking away from my business, and that I could not be impartial, because I would only make my decision based on how quickly I could get the hell out of there. So I was there for 2 days waiting around, and then I got a card saying they wouldn't call me again for at least another 4 years, thank the Lord.

I called Williams later that day and told him what happened, and that he shouldn't worry about it, since they had more than enough people who seemed to want to be on a jury, just to give them a momentary escape from their miserable city jobs. Williams seemed relieved. I thought about what it must be like for African-Americans to be asked to serve in a country that for so long has made a point of not serving them, to put it lightly. I could understand why black people would want to just throw their jury notices in the trash. And even I, a white person, was offended by the lawyers who would have us serve on the jury for their slip-and-fall lawsuit, taking precious time out of our lives for 40 dollars a day while they get 200 bucks an hour. Yeah, I know the whole jury-of-your-peers thing....whatever. I just remember when on a classic episode of The Simpsons, Attorney-at-Law Lionel Hutz makes a remark to Lisa Simpson: "If there is one thing we need, its more lawyers. Can you imagine a world without lawyers?" Cut to people of all races around the world holding hands in peace......

"Can You Imagine A World Without Lawyers?"

One of the worst gigs I ever did, plus an amusing story....

One of the worst gigs I ever did in my life was maybe a bit less than twenty years ago. When I was back in Maryland, I did a lot of work with various vocalists in the Baltimore-Washington area. Many, many........MANY vocalists! (Now, vocalists, you know I love you, all of you, and my upcoming performances at Aqua Books in Winnipeg should be demonstrative of that love!) Working with jazz singers can be great because there are many skills you can learn on a singer's gig that you don't on an instrumental gig. You have to know many more songs, in the singer's key, plus you have to be able to read her( or his....) arrangements. You have to be able to come up with intros and outros on the fly. You have to be able to play a ballad. You need to really be able to support. And I take pride in my ability to do those things, in my own limited way. Much of that is because of my work with singers like Gail Martin, Iris Benjamin, Heidi Martin, Ethel Ennis, Sunny Sumter, Karen Francis, Pam Bricker, and many others. Later I worked with singers like Vanessa Rubin, Cassandra Wilson, Janis Siegel, and Sinne Eeg (a wonderful Danish vocalist.), among others.

But professional musicians can be mercenaries, and at a certain point, you just accept gigs because your calendar is blank, rather than whether the singer or whoever gives you any musical thrill. Well, I took a gig with a singer who will remain nameless, mostly because I cannot remember her name. (Whew! Off the hook on that!) Now this vocalist, or voice owner, as they say, was a very quiet gal in her speaking voice and her singing voice. Even the microphone did not help. She was, in the Seinfeldian lingo, a "low talker". And I would say "low singer" but that would imply that she was a female Baritone, which is not true. (She was not, as far I could tell, a member of the East German Olympic Team.) Actually, I don't remember her vocal range, because I could never really hear her.

This vocalist, let's call her Mrs. Fourth, was also in the habit of singing every tune a fourth away from the key. I don't mean that she sang a fourth away from the original key( female keys are typically a fourth away from the male key). I mean she sang a fourth away from the key that we were supposed to be playing in! And what made it hard to try to follow her was that she had arrangements from her teacher that were heavily re-harmonized and arranged. So I felt it was safer to just play the arrangement and hope she would figure it out eventually. Which she rarely did.

So needless to say, it was quite difficult to figure out what to do because this whispering voice in a strange key was going against a whole bunch of chord changes that almost obscured the tune beyond recognition. And so it came time to bring this "unique" act to the stage, meaning a gig at a local sports bar. Let's get this clear: Sports Bars and Jazz Music is like Sports Bars and anything else not Sports Related. So we were already set up to fail in so many ways.

And then it really took a turn, well, maybe not a turn, for the worse, if you read the following and see what I mean; the bassist who had been hired was an older gentleman who apparently had toured with some famous big bands. In the 30's. And that's the last time his upright bass had been played, because when he went to tune up his bass, he could not turn the tuning pegs. They were almost rusted shut!(Maybe the bassist had arthritis, also. If so, well, I'm sorry then.) He literally could not tune his bass to the keyboard. And to top it off, he wouldn't read the charts; he would play the changes he knew from the 30's.

So imagine in your mind this Charles Ivesish scenario of Mrs. Fourth whispering in C, while I played in G a cornucopia of random harmonies, whilst the bassist played in F# or G# some other song from days of yore. This might be performance art to some. Did I mention that we were in a Sports Bar?

I also forgot to mention that there was a drummer on board our rapidly sinking musical ship. He is a good friend of mine, and will also remain nameless. My friend the drummer , who is a very good musician, was also in mercenary mode. And he could hear what was going on as well as I could. This was too much for his sensitive drummer's heart, so he went to the bar, looked at the drink menu, and said, "OK." Meaning he was not half in the bag, he was all the way in the bag. I think he drank the bag....

The icing on the cake was that one of my dear teachers, who knew me as a trumpeter and had never heard me play jazz piano before, showed up to the gig because he lived nearby. Talk about embarrassment! I just had to play it cool, and my teacher was very gracious. And I will end on a positive note and say that I did get paid for the gig. Just like a mercenary should.

And Mrs. Fourth, if you should ever read this and recognize yourself, I am sorry, I mean no disrespect.
And I will tell you that I recently tried to sing on a gig and I sounded like Alvin and The Chipmunks on crack! Singing is really not as easy as it seems.

Finally, I will leave you with a short anecdote about my friend the drummer. We actually had the following conversation while driving to a gig one time:

Me: So, how have you been? What have you been up to?

my friend the drummer: I've been reading the Bible alot.

Me: OK.

Drumfriend: I'm a born-again Christian now.

Me: OK. Cool.

Drumfriend: Also, I'm not doing NEARLY as much coke as I used to.

                                                             - FIN-

East Coast Love Affair: My Trip To The Blue States

    It was good to be back in New York for a spell. As we rode away from La Guardia Airport in Queens, I took in the familiar sights, sounds and smells. Well, I wouldn't say the Tri-State area smells good, but it does have a plethora of distinct odors. Nevertheless, New York City still has it's charms, and having lived there for almost 15 years, it's nice to come back as a visitor from Canada. New York is still especially great for jazz, even if the scene is not as lucrative as it used to be for musicians. It's still inspiring to be around a multitude of world class players and fervent jazz fans.

My first musical stop was not The Big Apple, but Washington D.C., our recently reddened Nation's Capital, which is about a 4 or 5 hour drive from Manhattan. I had a weekend engagement with my trio at The Bohemian Caverns, a wonderful spot on D.C.'s recently revitalized U Street. (When I lived on Quebec Street in Northwest D.C. back in 1994, U Street was not a hip place to be. Now, it's almost like Greenwich Village in New York:  Hip Restaurants, Clubs, and Yuppies of all types out on the town.)

The inside of Bohemian Caverns

Bohemian Caverns is run by a young entrepreneur from Boston named Omrao Brown. He recently brought in a new Yamaha grand piano, which was really a pleasure to play. The look of the club is almost like a cave, but the overall vibe of the club is very comfortable. And the stage sound is quite good. In my opinion, it is THE club to beat in Washington D.C. We had a good turnout both Friday and Saturday nights; oddly enough, the Saturday night was kind of a mini-high school reunion for me. I was amused by the fact that many of my friends from the 80's didn't even know that I played piano. "Where's the trumpet?" was a frequent question from my former classmates.

Alison Crockett

Despite feeling a little rusty, the gig was fun. I've been playing with Josh Ginsburg on bass and E.J. Strickland on drums for a few years. We hadn't worked together in some months, but it all fell musically back into place. Also, we had two surprise guest vocalists; D.C.'s own Heidi Martin joined us for a few tunes on Friday night, and Saturday night we had Alison Crockett give us a rousing rendition of "Stella By Starlight". I remember thinking during the performance, "If only Victor Young could have heard what we did to his song!"

Maria Neckam

Back in New York, my wife and I stumbled onto a wonderful vocalist named Maria Neckam at Small's on a Tuesday night. Neckam, born in Austria,  has a very unique style of singing; it kind of reminded me of Bjork mixed with Astrud Gilberto mixed with Inara George(the singer with a band called The Bird And The Bee ). She performed all of her own music (except for two Charles Ives compositions).Her music has jazz elements, but also has a Third Stream quality to it, making it not so easy to classify (which I think is a good thing). I got an interview with her after the show, which will be in an upcoming blog entry.

I stayed for a while after to see an old friend of mine named Dave Stoler perform with a trio consisting of John Weber on bass and Adam Nussbaum on drums. They did a wonderful version of "Only Trust Your Heart", which is one of my favorite tunes. Dave Stoler has been based in Madison for many years; we met at a jazz piano competition in Indianapolis in 1992. He's a very thoughtful, studied musician. I'd like to get a conversation with him at some point.

Next on the bill was my trio at Small's the following night. The turnout was pretty good, and the performing was fun. I finally got up the nerve to pull out the melodica on a few ballads. While I'm suspicious as to whether my band will tolerate more than one song a set on the melodica, I enjoyed playing it so much on the ballads; it has a sustain that is just impossible on the piano... It kind of makes me feel like a horn player, without the agonizing pain and suffering of the trumpet! I think the audience enjoyed it...

Cameron Brown

Ronnie Cuber

The next morning, I had to rise early to meet veteran bassist Cameron Brown in Tarrytown, N.Y., in order to catch a ride to Boston. We had a one-nighter at Sculler's with Baritone Saxophonist Ronnie Cuber. Cuber is a legend on the Bari Sax; he was THE studio cat in the 70's and 80's. I was rather pleasantly surprised to get the call from his manager for this gig.. I had only performed with Ronnie within the confines of the Mingus Big Band. It was a true inspiration to hear Ronnie stretch out on some Coltrane tunes, such as "Spiral" and "Miles' Mode". Rounding out the ensemble was the great Joe Farnsworth on drums. Farnsworth's drumming at times reminded me of Louis Hayes and Art Blakey with some Elvin Jones thrown in for good measure. It was a pretty energetic set, with a good crowd response.

I drove back the next morning with Cameron Brown and, in the car, we listened to a good portion of a box set edition of Miles Davis' Live At The Blackhawk. Brown told me that he was fortunate enough to have seen the same band when he was a kid in Detroit. " Miles, Hank Mobley, Jimmy Cobb, Paul Chambers, and Wynton Kelly...I used to stand behind Wynton and light his cigarettes for him..." Brown reminisced. I had heard some of this recording before, but this version is four sets of music with no edits. This album reminded me of something my friend Jed Levy had said once:"When you hear jazz musicians in the studio, oftentimes it's just the tip of the iceberg of what they can really play." Live At The Blackhawk is a great example of that notion, because the solos go long and are so inventive it's scary. I think they get into some things that just wouldn't end up happening if they were limited by the constraints of the studio.The swing on the CD is amazing; when Miles solos, you get the feeling that he doesn't want to stop, propelled by the unwavering intensity of Jimmy Cobb's ride cymbal beat and Paul Chamber's insistent quarter note pulse. I'm planning on downloading the album soon so I have have another closer listen.

I have two gigs to go: an engagement with my trio at a house concert series in Baltimore called Jazzway 6004. http://www.jazzway6004.org/home.html (Tickets are still available if you are in the area.) And we're finishing up the east coast tour with a trio performance at Fat Cat in NYC on Monday night. Soon I'll be back in Osborne Village in Winnipeg, wondering if it was all a dream...

"Whatever You Are Smoking, I Want Some!"

Buster Williams

I was recently reminiscing about my travelin' days as a sideman with various jazz bands. I used to play quite often with the Buster Williams Quartet in the first decade of the new millennium. If you aren't familiar with Williams, you should look him up on allmusicguide.com: he has an extensive discography as a sideman and a leader. To me, Williams is part of the old guard of musicians who payed dues in the clubs and traveling the world with people like Miles Davis, Betty Carter, Art Blakey, Freddie Hubbard, and so forth. He's the type of musician who, although continually excited about music and making music, is difficult to impress because he's already played with EVERYBODY! If I play something I think is really hip, well, Buster heard Herbie Hancock play it while I was wearing diapers. But I think it's important for young musicians to mix with older cats on the bandstand; it's that sort of apprenticeship system that's sort of disappearing and being replaced by jazz academia. Such is the state of things, but I digress.....

Lenny White

Holding down the drum chair was usually the great Lenny White. White is most known for his stint in the 1970's with the pioneering fusion band Return To Forever.  However, he has major jazz credentials, and is clearly part of the lineage of drummers like Max Roach, Philly Joe Jones, Jimmy Cobb, Elvin Jones, and Tony Williams. I remember my first hearing of RTF's " Hymn of The Seventh Galaxy" when I was in high school and being enthralled by White's grooving interpretations. Back then, I never imagined I would actually play with Lenny White someday in the future.

Steve Wilson

Our man on alto and soprano saxophones was the distinguished Steve Wilson. (Hopefully, you already read my interview of Wilson in an earlier post. It's quite extensive...) This was pretty much the core group for years, with some variations, depending on scheduling. Sometimes we would have Stefon Harris or Steve Nelson on vibes, sometimes we would have Vincent Herring on alto, occasionally Carl Allen would sub on drums. But Williams, White, Wilson, and Colligan was the norm. Lenny would always say he thought it was a great mix of age groups; Buster is mid 60's, Lenny was late 50's at the time, Steve is mid to late 40's , and yours truly mid to late 30's. Oftentimes nowadays you see either an entire band of young cats or an entire band of older cats. Unless someone can give me a good example, I think it's rare to have that kind of mix.

I'm trying to set the stage for what I think is kind of a funny story. Hopefully it's at least as funny as your average Reader's Digest anecdote, or maybe some story about the 40's that your Grandma tells every Christmas. ("And would you believe that I ended up with an overcooked turkey? And in those days, we couldn't get turkeys so often because of the war, so sometimes we would eat bologna on pumpernickel bread...." " Ha ha ha, that's hilarious, Grandma....")Anyway, this was a tour of the U.K., and we were finally at the last gig of the tour. We were in a small club in Edinburgh, Scotland. This was also a radio broadcast for the BBC, although the piano was pretty sub-standard and the sound in general was not ideal (as is often the case in these small clubs). This was the second set of the gig; the first set had been pretty exhausting as usual, but in a good way. Our sets always seemed to be quite epic, as if we were trying to best ourselves every time out of the gate.

We were playing a mix of Buster's older hits, like "Dual Force", and "Christina", and his great arrangement on the old standard " I Didn't Know What Time It Was." But we were also playing tunes from Buster's "Griot Liberte" CD that came out a few years back. Much of the music from that CD was inspired by the illness and near death of Buster's wife. It's a wonderful album, recorded at Rudy Van Gelder's studio; I found recording there was quite an interesting experience in and of itself.(Van Gelder has a main piano that is in a recording booth, and a rehearsal piano outside of the recording booth. This actually makes sense because you minimize wear and tear on any one piano. However, if you have to go back and forth, and you are rehearsing a bit before each take, then it gets confusing. I was running back and forth between the rehearsal piano and the recording piano for hours! Also, once I was in the booth with the recording piano, the headphones were picking up a frequency of a very right-wing radio station. Basically I was forced to listen to Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity for hours while we recorded! If you know me, you know that right -wing talk radio is my Kryptonite.......)

So we began the second set, and the second tune was "The Wind Of An Immortal Soul". This tune has basically an AAB form, where the A sections are in 4/4 and the B sneaks into 3/4. Sometimes, we would obscure the 3/4 with various forms of musical trickery. On this night, however, during my solo, we had a rare rhythmic miscommunication. During the B section, something happened where I just couldn't hear what was happening with anything:rhythm, form, harmony, you name it. Plus, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I was half in the bag at that point. (That's a old slang terminology for excessive alcohol consumption. Hey, we were in Scotland. Did you know that they don't call it Scotch in Scotland, they call it whiskey? Boy, I sure did!)

"Use the Force...to get acting work!"

On the verge of having a musical panic attack, I remembered something attributed to Joe Henderson: "Sometimes, the best music music is made when you are lost and you are trying to find your way BACK!" (I heard this in my head the same way Luke Skywalker could hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi as he fought the Dark Side:" Use the force... Let go of your feelings...Save your money, cause your career sucks after Return Of The Jedi....") I figured, well, this is the time to put that wisdom to the test. I pressed on, lost as I could be. I maintained a pretty good poker face, in fact, I lowered my head as to give the impression of deep, deep inspiration. I played and listened, trying to find my way back to the top of the form. Still nothing. I began to sound like a cross between Cecil Taylor and a Elephant sitting on a piano.

I really started to sweat: however, I figured eventually I would figure out where I was in the song. Time stood still, and I started to have serious doubts about my musical career. Visions of law school crossed my mind as I flailed away at the keys. My head was down even further, my eyes closed. This is it, I told myself, I'm done, washed up, I'm fired, this is my last gig with this band. And then all of a sudden, a cheer rang out from the audience. It seemed that my ploy had actually worked! I tricked them into thinking I was having a keyboard revelation only by a commitment to conviction. I'm telling you, the crowd went nuts! And then, Buster played a single note signaling the B section, and the world rushed back and I could finally breathe again. I neatly wrapped up my solo and we moved on to the next song amidst wild applause and adulation. (Keep in mind that this was recorded for the BBC, so a recording of this is out there somewhere...oy vey...)

I looked up, rather sheepishly, and looked at Steve Wilson, who yelled across the bandstand, "Whatever you're smoking, I want some!" Of course, after the set, Lenny White's comment was something to the effect of, "I really thought that George had snapped and we were going to take him  to the hospital after that solo!"

Jazz Melodica: Why Didn't Anybody Tell Me?

Hohner Melodica 32

Recently, one of my students, a fine bassist named Luke Sellick from Winnipeg, brought a Hohner 37 key melodica into my Jazz Performance class at the University of Manitoba. Now, for those of you who have no idea what a melodica is, it's a typically plastic keyboard which, when the keys are pressed, opens a hole- so that air, blown through a mouthpiece on the side of the keyboard, vibrates a reed. This produces a sound which is reminiscent of a harmonica, or maybe an accordion(although it reminds me a lot of an instrument called the bandoneón, which is popular in Argentinian music). Some refer to it as a melodion. The instrument is said to have been invented by the Hohner company(they make harmonicas)in the 50's, although some say that a guy named Joseph Lederfineit invented it.

Harmonica, which is much harder to play

Anyway, the precocious Mr. Sellick had brought the melodica to our regular Wednesday Night Hang at the Orbit Room, which is a weekly session in Winnipeg. Unfortunately, during the song on which he played his melodica, I and the rest of the University of Manitoba Jazz Faculty were having a curriculum meeting in an adjacent dining area of the Orbit Room. However, we could sort of hear it in the distance. "Is that someone playing harmonica?" someone mused. Later, Sellick approached me. "Did you hear me solo on the melodica?" he asked? " I joked,"Yes, I thought it was Stevie Wonder!"

Trumpet is much more frustrating than melodica!

But it wasn't until Mr. Sellick brought his new instrument into class, and let me take it for a spin, that I was truly intrigued. It's a fairly easy instrument to play: The keys on the 36 note plastic keyboard(the number of keys can differ)are about half the size of piano keys, and the action is even lighter than an organ. If you already play keyboards, you'll have no problem at all. The range of the 36 is from low F below middle C to high E above the treble staff, which is plenty of notes so as not to feel limited. The mouthpiece is just a small plastic apparatus. You just blow into it like you're blowing into a straw. And as a trumpet player who was always plagued with embouchure problems, it's an amazing feeling to get a sound out of a "wind" instrument without having to worry about the technique. Plus, if you use a little more air, you can play chords! Now try THAT on your trumpet!

Jack Dejohnette, without his melodica

It's strange that I was never inspired by the melodica before; I happen to play with one of the more well known champions of the melodica, a drummer by the name of Jack Dejohnette. On our tour this summer, Dejohnette played his Hammond 44 key melodica on one, maybe two songs a night. Dejohnette was a pianist before he was a drummer, so he has the keyboard technique down pat. If you want to hear him play melodica, check out his debut recording from 1968 entitled The Jack Dejohnette Complex. Also, his latest CD, entitled Music We Are, features some nice melodica playing.

Hermeto Pascoal

Honestly, I'm not hip to a lot of other music that features melodica. I'm checking out some youtube clips of the great Brazilian genius Hermeto Pascoal, in which he is playing some smoking lines on the instrument. I am aware that John Medeski of Medeski, Martin, and Wood plays a wooden melodica, called the mylodica. George Duke apparently plays melodica as well. Unfortunately, many of the youtube clips I found were homemade by amateurs, which, no disrespect to aspiring melodica players, were not terribly inspirational.

Honestly, I have my doubts about the sound itself. It's slightly one dimensional. However, I think it's one of those things that if you love it, you really love it, and if you don't, well, it might be cool as a novelty for a song or two.  A friend of mine described the melodica's reedy tone like so:"It's ok in small doses, kind of like trombone...."

The type of melodica I own, except mine is black in color

All this being said, immediately after I got home from my Jazz Performance class, I called up the Sound Electra company, a melodica store based in St Paul, Minnesota, which you can find at melodicas.com . I spoke to Steve Hegeman about which melodica I should order, and he recommended the L-37. The price was reasonable, so I put in the order. However, the postal system between the U.S. and Canada is hopelessly slow, so a week passed and still no melodica. Impulsively, I drove over to Mother's Music in Winnipeg. They had Suzuki Melodicas with 32 keys for fairly cheap, so I figured, what the heck, it's only Canadian money. I'll just have an extra melodica.

I have to say, regardless of how the instrument sounds, melodica is so easy and fun to play! Wow! I went down to the Current Lounge and sat in with Mr. Sellick's trio last night, and they were kind enough to indulge me on my virgin performance on the melodica. What a thrill! I felt a kind of liberation in that I could play all my keyboard vocabulary with a highly air driven, organic sound. I feel like daggone it, I could have been playing melodica this WHOLE time and no one told me? While I question the idea of my next CD being an all- melodica affair, I do plan on having some fun with it. Hopefully, the L-37 will arrive soon and I'll have a few extra keys to mess around with. I'll keep you posted.

Blow!

"You Don't Know 'Wicked'?"

The Piano Man...

A good friend of mine used to have a regular solo piano gig in a Manhattan hotel. While some might think that there are many advantages to having a steady hotel gig in times like these, my friend spent a good deal of time complaining about the job and relating some depressing yet amusing incidents which would occur during the job on an almost nightly frequency. It seemed as though anything and everything could happen, from drunken guests rowdily requesting "Rhapsody in Blue" to mothers changing their babies diapers right next to the piano. So when my friend asked me to sub for him one night, I had mixed feelings about showing up to play: would I have a relatively uneventful evening of solo piano playing? Or would I have to fend off rabid Billy Joel fans insisting on "The Piano Man" for the fifteenth time?

The first hour of the gig was quiet. Despite the fact that the piano was in rough shape, and maybe hadn't been tuned since the Nixon administration, I played jazz standards in a non-threatening manner for an uninterrupted hour, and then took a fifteen minute break. "What is the big deal?" I mused to myself and the plate of cheese and fruit that I took from the free spread at the bar. "This gig is a piece of cake." I glanced at my watch and approached the piano bench for another set of lobby-friendly jazz standards.

Midway through my set, a blond woman, possibly in her late 40's, enclosed in a beige Hilary Clinton-style pantsuit, sidled up into my piano air space. She wasted no time in letting me know that she was very annoying:"Uh, yeah, that sounds great and everything...", I wasn't even finished the song," ...but do you know any songs from Wicked?"

I had decided fifteen years prior to this moment that if anybody came up to me on a solo piano gig and made requests while I was still playing AND expected me to talk and play and not be incredibly annoyed all at once, then I would grind the song to a halt and defend myself. Well, first I would GLARE at them and then mount a counter-offensive.

"Uh, what is Wicked?", I asked, 'cause I REALLY wanted to know.

"YOU DON'T KNOW WICKED? IT'S THE HOTTEST SHOW ON BROADWAY!", she proclaimed. I sarcastically  wondered to myself if she was a music critic for the Times.

"Oh, I think I saw an ad for it on the Q64A Bus. But no, I don't know any songs from Wicked."

She totally ignored what I had just said. "Do you know THIS song from Wicked?" And then she sings what she thinks is music, but it sounds more like someone waking up from being in a coma for 6 months.

"Lady, I told you, I don't know any songs from Wicked! If you have sheet music in your purse, I'll happily try to read it, but no, I don't know the musical."

"Well, you really should learn some of that music....." She seemed to be finished, but before she scurried away, there was one more knife-in-my-soul kind of request: "My sister is sitting over at this table. She just graduated from Columbia with her Doctorate. Can you play something appropriate for that?"

Edward Elgar

Wow. Just......wow. "Um, what about Pomp and Circumstance?" I was half to eighty-five percent joking. She looked at me quizzically. I proceeded to hum Edward Elgar's famous graduation processional.

"Sure! Play that!" She said, clearly forgetting to offer me a gratuity of any sort, as she sauntered over to where her highly-educated sister was sitting with her husband.

"I'm NOT going to play that!" I shouted, and then I picked up where I had left off in the song I was playing before the Wickedness. Soon enough, it was time for another break to rest my fingers and my mind.

I had actually sort of forgotten about the first half of the Wicked incident when the second half began. I was resting on one of the lobby couches near the piano, when I realized that the Wicked witch and her
sister the Doctor and her husband were sitting two couches over. And they were discussing their displeasure in my lack of Wicked awareness.

"Can you BELIEVE that the pianist didn't know any songs from Wicked?"

"How could he not know any songs from Wicked? IT'S THE HOTTEST SHOW ON BROADWAY!"

"Jeez, How can he be a piano player in NEW YORK CITY and not know any songs from WICKED?"

I could see them from where I was sitting, and was thinking about walking over and explaining to them how I could be such an ignorant piano player and still make a living in New York. But I had one more set to go, my fingers and brain had forty-five minutes of non-Wicked music to deal with, and I just figured what the heck.

I still think that my friend is lucky to have his steady gig. But if it was my gig, I don't know if I personally could handle the constant psychological torture. Yes, there are worse jobs. Playing piano in a hotel is more satisfying overall than, say, working at Starbucks. But I think about it like this: This Wicked Witch of the Pantsuit heard me playing jazz and asked me to do something else because that's what SHE wanted. If you work the counter at Starbucks, nobody comes in and asks for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese! You wouldn't say "Can you BELIEVE that they didn't have a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?" NO! You are in the wrong restaurant! Go to McDonald's! If you want songs from Wicked, then buy tickets for Wicked! I think they are on sale NOW! In fact, I heard from somebody that it was the HOTTEST SHOW ON BROADWAY.......

Maybe I'd look better in a pantsuit........

New Jazz Misconceptions

I find it troubling that America's unique musical art form, jazz, is so often misunderstood. I've always contended that, although I did attend a pretty good public high school, that I am no genius: therefore, If I can understand jazz, you can understand jazz. But sometimes it seems that potential listeners are so far off, I just have to shake my head in disbelief. How can something that is as American as Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie, and Chevrolet be so misconceived? Some of the fallacies I've heard are akin to an American watching a baseball game and saying, "When will the guy in the middle of the field on the little hill kick the ball so he can score a goal?" (Now, I did once have to explain Baseball to a German friend, and I felt like I might as well have been explaining  how to eat a sandwich, sort of like, "I can't believe you don't know what innings are, or what a home run is, how can you not know this?")

My point is that there is a lot of ignorance about something that should be second nature. Even musicians and people who love the music can at times be erroneous. This particular post is not about why, or how to fix it, because that could be another debate. (In fact, feel free to post your own ideas.)This post is not about making anyone feel stupid either. (One of my favorite comedians, Paul F. Tompkins, does a comedy bit about jazz: When he listens to a jazz record, it's as if the music is saying," Whatsa matter, man? Don't you dig our smart people's music? Maybe you too dumb, dummy!.) This post is really just some anecdotes about misunderstandings about jazz that I thought you might find amusing. And maybe laughter can lead to understanding. Maybe.

not a trumpet...

Some of you are saying, "Oh, Professor Colligan, just because we can't hear a C minor chord with a major 7th and a flatted 6th and an augmented 27th over a G in the bass doesn't mean we are stupid!" I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the time a bass player brought his upright bass into the club and started a verbal brawl between a husband and wife sitting nearby. "Look, that guy's got a big trumpet!" proclaimed the husband. " You idiot," scolded the wife. " That's not a trumpet. That's a trombone!" And you thought that the people who confuse the bass with the cello were misinformed.

A drum set

A Drum Machine

Maybe the problem is in the schools. And it's definitely getting worse. Music Education in some schools is non-existent. Art and Culture are not seen to be as important as R,W,and A (which stand for Reading , Writing, and Arithmetic. Some call it the Three Rs, but don't you think calling it Reading, 'Righting, and 'Rithmetic sort of accentuates our scholastic shortcomings? I bet the Germans don't have any " The Three R's" equivalent. Such jokes are strictly VERBOTEN!) So kids today are even worse off than the married couple in the previous paragraph. They don't even know enough to confuse a trumpet with a bass. For example, a friend of mine brought his son to the studio, and had to explain the concept of the drum set as opposed to a drum machine. Hip Hop was his reference point:" See, this is what people used to make beats on back in the day." (Make Beats is the Hip Hop equivalent of "come up with a groove." I am feeling old.)

Obviously, those are extreme examples. However,  there are some trained musicians out there who say some pretty ridiculous things about jazz and jazz musicians, and it's usually based on the preconception that jazz is music that "you have to feel it, you have to have the talent, you have to be born to play it, it just comes to you..." Again, I don't think there is anything in my bloodline that makes me " born" to play jazz. I studied and practiced and listened just like anyone else. But the myths persist. I know the Director of a jazz program who complained to the Dean of the entire music school that "musicians who come from the classical program into the jazz program can't play their scales or play in tune." The Dean's response: "You're a jazz musician. How can you tell?" As if to say, "Jazz is just something you make up, you just get out there and blow, man. You don't have to worry about scales and intonation!" I just wonder what these people are hearing; because they've never seen the notated score, do they just jump to misguided conclusions? I swear that after I played a noon recital at Peabody with a jazz group, which was rare at the time, a student came up to me and said, " I love jazz. You just play wrong notes and it's OK." Is that the only thing you could think after our performance?

not a jazz musician

Let's forget about the ears for a moment. We all know that many people HEAR with their EYES, and that's always annoying. That would be like judging a film by how it tastes! "Have you seen the new Scorsese film? I found it much too salty." Some people have told me that I "don't look like a jazz musician." (I try to refrain from telling them what they look like.) Years ago, a bass playing friend of mine recommended me to someone who was looking to do some artistic photos of jazz musicians. When the photographer came to my door and saw me, a paunchy white guy with glasses and fading hair, she almost acted like she had the wrong address! This is another type of ignorance that for which there is little excuse.

With all of this fallacious information, it's no wonder that the powers-that-be can fool us into believing that mediocre artists are Sliced Bread 2.0 while really great SOUNDING musicians go unnoticed. So many listeners can not actually decide based on their own judgment. They accept whatever is sold to them with the most repetition. One of my favorite tales comes from a friend of mine who used to work at Tower Records in New York. (Yes, there used to be stores in which you could buy records and CDs!) An older woman came in and inquired, "I'm looking for a CD by an amazing saxophone player, he's the best I've ever heard, maybe the greatest saxophone player who has ever lived!" My friend offered, "John Coltrane?"
"No."
"Michael Brecker?"
"Nope."
"Wayne Shorter?"
"No."
"Charlie Parker?"
"Don't Think So..."
"Cannonball Adderly?"
"Naaaa."
"Sonny Rollins?"
"Not him."
This went on for some time. Finally, with his head hung low in defeat, the eventual death blow unavoidable, my friend surrendered with a deep sadness. " ......Kenny G?"
"Yes! Oh, he is so amazing! He's the greatest saxophonist ever!"

My First Gig as a Jazz Pianist

How many of you musicians remember your first gig? ( Gig, for those of you who don't know, is a slang for any type of concert, performance, musical job, etc...) I do remember my first gig as a jazz pianist. It was not my first time being paid to play music: I had been playing trumpet and drums for a while, and had done some brass quintet gigs in high school and also played drums in some jazz and rock bands. But I was slowly gravitating towards the piano in college. I started jamming a bit in practice rooms around Peabody Conservatory with trumpeter Alex Norris. I only could get through a handful of standards, but it seemed like enough to get through an hour's worth of playing.

I would also get together and practice with bassist David Ephross, who I had known since elementary school. David was also making a transition from classical flute to jazz bass, so we were in the same boat , in terms of moving to a second instrument and a second genre. We didn't know a lot of songs, but we had learned some of the hardest ones: Cedar Walton's "Bolivia", Benny Golson's "Stablemates" , and John Coltrane's "Moment's Notice". (I think this is how we fooled people into believing that we were better than we really were. ) I remember that we didn't really have enough vocabulary to "stretch out" ( play long solos) so we would play the melody, take one chorus each, and then take the melody out. We had no idea that some players could take twenty to thirty choruses on a song and never repeat themselves! ( A chorus in jazz usually means one time through the entire form-whatever form is delineated for improvisation. In case you weren't sure!)

I don't remember how we ended up with the gig at JK's Pub in Columbia, Maryland, which was a short drive from my mother's house. And somehow, we had  recently met two older musicians from Baltimore: Richard Dorsey on tenor saxophone and Chris Perry on drums. So we called them and they agreed to do the gig.  David and I met a few times the week before the " gig" to play through our non- extensive repertoire. "So I guess we'll play the melody, and then you take a chorus, and then Richard will take a chorus, and then we'll end the song?", David would inquire. " OK! That sounds good!" I would reply. So we continued to practice the tunes in this manner.

The night of the gig arrived , and I had to borrow a Fender Rhodes from a pianist and bassist named Josh Schwartzman. Josh was, and still is , the leader of a Baltimore based Latin Jazz band called Rhumba Club. In retrospect, I think Josh was reluctant to lend me the Rhodes: It was in really good condition, great action, and it had the separate speaker, a real beast to carry. I swore I would take good care of it. I suspect also that Josh didn't believe that I was ready to do a gig on piano; he had been showing me some voicings and some tunes but it was really all new to me. I was still primarily a classical trumpet player. Yet I wanted to see how this piano thing would play out.

JK's Pub was not a hip jazz club, it was really just a neighborhood restaurant and bar. There was a stage in the corner near the front window, and the tenor/Rhodes/bass/drums quartet was really packed in tightly. Richard Dorsey called Theolonious Monk's " Well You Needn't" to start the proceedings. I recall feeling like an astronaut upon the moment of liftoff. " This is really it!" I said internally, as we started to play.

We did record the performance on cassette tape, as we did all of our performances for the first few years. (And I remember many nights we would stay up all night listening to those tapes, right after the gig. Even after a 3 set gig, we would listen to all three hours of it.) Luckily, the tape of this gig doesn't not exist anymore, as far as I know. If I listened to it now, I think I would be terribly embarrassed. A song like "Well, You Needn't "was probably too advanced for me: I was most likely playing at best like a weak clone of Herbie Hancock, and at worst laying down some random chromatic crap. Which is what I do now, but it was far less compelling 20 years ago! ( Somebody say "well, you needn't have played it!")

But what was most shocking for David and I was when Richard called Moment's Notice. This is a Coltrane classic, a real uptempo harmonic workout. And Richard was clearly a Coltrane devotee, as many tenor saxophonists are. When he played that melody, he might as well have been John Coltrane himself, as far as we were concerned. David and I looked at each other as if to say telepathically, " Oh, we're playing with adults now!" Furthermore, Richard played about 25 choruses, each one better than the last. Every time that the Bb pedal came around signaling the end of a chorus, I glanced at David; I'm sure he was thinking, " Wow, he's taking another chorus!"

And with that, we were given the green light to do the same. I played for as long as my inexperienced fingers could handle. This was the first real jazz gig that I had ever done on any instrument. I felt like I could play anything on that Rhodes and it would be right. The frustrations of playing classical trumpet had completely left my psyche. I finally felt free. At last I felt like a real musician. Little did I know what triumphs and trials lay ahead.

Feel free to post memories of your first " gig"!