This story about Wynton Marsalis is one of the more amazing things I've read in a while. But actually pretty well in keeping with what I know of the man.
http://www.insidebayarea.com/ci_13394903?source=email
Two quick stories about Wynton. When Ken Burns did the "Jazz" series he told of his amazing collaboration with Wynton. As Burns tells it, when the Civil War series was airing, Burns got a call from Wynton (or maybe a knock on the door), and Wynton said he needed to do the same thing (do a documentary) with jazz music. Wynton was very passionate, apparently, but Burns said he was already in his next project (Baseball), but he'd think about it. After the Baseball series, did in fact decide to tackle jazz and decided to contact Wynton about it. Burns went to his apartment and was talking to him and Wynton was saying "whatever you want, whatever you want." Burns said he was trying to set up an interview with him ("it won't take too long...") and after a while, Wynton finally said, "you're not listening to me--whatever you want"). (See 19:00 mark here, on Charlie Rose: http://vodpod.com/watch/526357-charlie-rose-jazz-burns-marsalis-from-1801.)
The other story is a personal one, when Wynton was in St. Louis at the old Clayton Jazz festival. Afterwards, he was signing autographs, selling CDs, etc., and I decided to get in line (when was I going to get a chance to see Wynton like that?--plus I didn't care too much about the act after Wynton, which was more of a pop act). The line was long, but man, did it move SLOW. I was getting annoyed, couldn't figure it out, etc. Then I got up to a place in the line where I could see Wynton, and I figured out why it was moving so slowly. He was talking to every person. And I don't mean saying a few words ("What's your name" so he could sign the autograph)--but really interacting, listening, talking and spending whatever time people wanted to spend. He didn't rush one person. And everyone "got it" and was so happy to spend time talking to him. I mentioned our Juilliard connection (I was there a few years after him). I fully expected to get that look ("Oh, that's nice" with gritting of teeth ("How long do I have to talk to this guy?")). But no, not at all from Wynton: "When were you there? Who'd you study with? What kind of horn did you play? Are you still playing? Yeah, what kind of stuff? Where? What mouthpiece you using? That's cool." After my full time, a big hug and off to the next person. That showed me something.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
It's blogging time
To paraphrase Ben Grim, a/k/a, the Thing, from the Fantastic Four. (Which, by the way, is one of the worst comic book movie adaptations going. Trust me, I loved comic books and still love movies, so I should know!)
A busy week of playing last week. Wednesday I was the featured sit-in with the Park Avenue Jazz boys at Hammerstone's (always a treat). They always seem to call at least one tune I don't know that ends up going into my list of new favorites, and this was no exception--Triste by Jobim.
Saturday I was part of the Jazz and Blues Revue at the Old Webster Jazz Festival with Anita Rosamond. Actually, Anita and her manager put the group together, and it was billed as a triple leader feature--Anita, guitarist Rich McDonough, and pianist/singer Jessi Gannon. I was playing alongside Lew ("Blue Lew") Winer III on saxophone. It rained a bit but there was a nice crowd anyway. That gig went better than I dared hope--great band, but folks who had not played together in that configuration before. That is always risky, but we did a lot of pretty familiar material, which helped greatly. The program was put together as a smorgasbord of jazz and blues tunes by people with a connection to St. Louis (included some Chuck Berry, Albert King, Ike and Tina Turner review, and of course, one Miles Dewey Davis).
Sunday I took a break from the usual Voodoo routine and did a fundraiser with John Farrar at the Hidden Lake Winery in Illinois. A nice little trio gig that John has asked me to do about four or five years running now. David Certain rounded out the trio this time; the man can Certain-ly play. We played in a trio using Dave once before (he was worried it wouldn't swing without a drummer, but was pleasantly surprised), and he showed us a new way to do Softly, As in a Morning Sunrise, with frequent modulations, and now that's the way we do it.
And speaking of John Farrar, Nathaniel and I have tickets for Son Volt in early November. We are looking forward to hear John's brother's band at the Pageant!
A busy week of playing last week. Wednesday I was the featured sit-in with the Park Avenue Jazz boys at Hammerstone's (always a treat). They always seem to call at least one tune I don't know that ends up going into my list of new favorites, and this was no exception--Triste by Jobim.
Saturday I was part of the Jazz and Blues Revue at the Old Webster Jazz Festival with Anita Rosamond. Actually, Anita and her manager put the group together, and it was billed as a triple leader feature--Anita, guitarist Rich McDonough, and pianist/singer Jessi Gannon. I was playing alongside Lew ("Blue Lew") Winer III on saxophone. It rained a bit but there was a nice crowd anyway. That gig went better than I dared hope--great band, but folks who had not played together in that configuration before. That is always risky, but we did a lot of pretty familiar material, which helped greatly. The program was put together as a smorgasbord of jazz and blues tunes by people with a connection to St. Louis (included some Chuck Berry, Albert King, Ike and Tina Turner review, and of course, one Miles Dewey Davis).
Sunday I took a break from the usual Voodoo routine and did a fundraiser with John Farrar at the Hidden Lake Winery in Illinois. A nice little trio gig that John has asked me to do about four or five years running now. David Certain rounded out the trio this time; the man can Certain-ly play. We played in a trio using Dave once before (he was worried it wouldn't swing without a drummer, but was pleasantly surprised), and he showed us a new way to do Softly, As in a Morning Sunrise, with frequent modulations, and now that's the way we do it.
And speaking of John Farrar, Nathaniel and I have tickets for Son Volt in early November. We are looking forward to hear John's brother's band at the Pageant!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Here's the way Steve and Emily should make their wedding entrance
If watching this doesn't make you feel good, maybe I don't want to know you!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Injustice at the Hall!
Ok, not really. But more about that later.
Great trip to Cleveland this week to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nathaniel and his friend Pete Holohan made what they describe as their first sojourn there (of course, counting on that time in the future when they themselves will be inducted).
We started off things right with a Monday night visit to Progressive Field (f/k/a Jacobs Field, or "the Jake"). A short walk from our hotel room, we settled into some great seats right behind home plate. Pete treated us to burgers and waffle fries (well, he slipped me the cash later, but I had to fork over the actual $$ to the concessionaire because I bought a cold frosty one). The Indians were playing the White Sox, and there were quite a few Sox fans (good thing, it wasn't very crowded there, by St. Louis standards). Just the day before, the Indians and Cardinals had made a trade, swapping everyday player Mark DeRosa for reliever Chris Perez and a player to be named later. From the Indians' perspective, the other player better be named sooner rather than later.
Perez
entered for the Indians in the top of the 9th, with the Tribe trailing 2-0. He hit the first batter in the head (had to be removed from the game). Then he hit the second batter in the head. Then he walked the bases loaded. They left him in for some inexplicable reason. He got a couple of outs, but along the way coughed up three. Then wild-pitched in the fourth. As he left with two outs and the Tribe down 6-0, he was lustily booed off the field. Then of course Cleveland plated 3 in the bottom of the ninth, which would have been enough to win the game (pre-Perez). Oh well. We had fun--we certainly didn't care! We did notice the ridiculousness of that crazy mascot Cleveland has.
Then on to the main event Tuesday--a short walk in the other direction was the RRHF. It's a really cool building designed by architect I.M. Pei. The streets have giant Fender Str
atocaster sculptures to lead the way and whet the appetite. A modest Michael Jackson figure was in front of the hall, where people had laid little mementos, but there was no real MJ memorial set up yet (I'm sure it will come).
We entered and Pete and Nathaniel posed for the obligatory entry photo (forgot to check it out at the end--just now remembered--I was going to spring for the photo this time). You can't take photos inside the hall (bummer!), but it was the right tone from the beg
inning. Before you enter the exhibitions and get your wristband, there is a neat display of guitars, with about six Jerry Garcia guitars (these boys are real Dead-Heads, so that got them going), a Kurt Cobain guitar, and a Jimi Hendrix guitar, among others. (I don't think they were as impressed as I was with the Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins guitars there, but oh well.)
Then we parted ways and I let the boys ramble and explore. We'd bump into each other periodically and exchange the "did you see" this or that conversations, and then go to respectively check out what the other party recommended. I think they particularly enjoyed seeing the original lyric sheet for Hendrix's Purple Haze, Jeff Beck's well-worn Telecaster:
and the signature display (instead of plaques, like the baseball Hall of Fame, the inductees have their signature on a wall in the induction hall; the signatures are white against a black background and the lighting is quite cool). Pete and Nathaniel violated the no picture rule once, telling me they couldn't resist getting their picture beside the display of the little statuette the inductees receive when they get in. That was neat.
But the "injustice" they marveled at (2 really) was that neither Nirvana nor the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been inducted. There was a big Springsteen thing going on ("two whole floors to Bruce Springsteen?!?!" they said, "but no Nirvana??? Metallica is in but not the Peppers??"). The rules of induction are that you are not eligible until 25 years after your first record release. My dispassionate pleas to them that, they probably are right on the cusp of those numbers, don't worry, they'll get in, was not enough for these boys. Then we hit the gift shop. They were very reserved shoppers, opting mainly for some cool posters (the Who and the Grateful Dead for Nathaniel).
A late afternoon swim, then dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which itself had some pretty darn cool memorabilia. We googled Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and found the dates of their first releases, and when we found they were almost, but not quite, at 25 years, I think they felt more reassured. That, and getting their picture taken next to Jimi Hendrix's purple pants, which were on display at the restaurant.
A lazy day on Wednesday, sleeping in, trotting briefly down to the Science Center, then on the plane back, and voila, what a trip. Thanks to the Holohan family for taking us to the airport and then feeding us pizza on our return. Really one of the best parts of the trip was the "debriefing"--the boys are great, well-suited for each other, but VERY quiet (they retired to their room (we had a pretty large suite that worked out nicely, I slept on the fold out couch in the main room), and I looked in to see what they were doing and they were reading books!!). But it was so great to hear them just buzzing about the whole trip to Faith and Michael, Pete's mom and dad.
Bad dad--I also suggested a return trip (senior trip, anyone?) to the induction ceremonies in a few years. The clips they had of those ceremonies looked pretty darn cool! (Prince jamming on While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Tom Petty? C'mon!)
Great trip to Cleveland this week to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nathaniel and his friend Pete Holohan made what they describe as their first sojourn there (of course, counting on that time in the future when they themselves will be inducted).
We started off things right with a Monday night visit to Progressive Field (f/k/a Jacobs Field, or "the Jake"). A short walk from our hotel room, we settled into some great seats right behind home plate. Pete treated us to burgers and waffle fries (well, he slipped me the cash later, but I had to fork over the actual $$ to the concessionaire because I bought a cold frosty one). The Indians were playing the White Sox, and there were quite a few Sox fans (good thing, it wasn't very crowded there, by St. Louis standards). Just the day before, the Indians and Cardinals had made a trade, swapping everyday player Mark DeRosa for reliever Chris Perez and a player to be named later. From the Indians' perspective, the other player better be named sooner rather than later.
Perez
entered for the Indians in the top of the 9th, with the Tribe trailing 2-0. He hit the first batter in the head (had to be removed from the game). Then he hit the second batter in the head. Then he walked the bases loaded. They left him in for some inexplicable reason. He got a couple of outs, but along the way coughed up three. Then wild-pitched in the fourth. As he left with two outs and the Tribe down 6-0, he was lustily booed off the field. Then of course Cleveland plated 3 in the bottom of the ninth, which would have been enough to win the game (pre-Perez). Oh well. We had fun--we certainly didn't care! We did notice the ridiculousness of that crazy mascot Cleveland has.Then on to the main event Tuesday--a short walk in the other direction was the RRHF. It's a really cool building designed by architect I.M. Pei. The streets have giant Fender Str
atocaster sculptures to lead the way and whet the appetite. A modest Michael Jackson figure was in front of the hall, where people had laid little mementos, but there was no real MJ memorial set up yet (I'm sure it will come).We entered and Pete and Nathaniel posed for the obligatory entry photo (forgot to check it out at the end--just now remembered--I was going to spring for the photo this time). You can't take photos inside the hall (bummer!), but it was the right tone from the beg
inning. Before you enter the exhibitions and get your wristband, there is a neat display of guitars, with about six Jerry Garcia guitars (these boys are real Dead-Heads, so that got them going), a Kurt Cobain guitar, and a Jimi Hendrix guitar, among others. (I don't think they were as impressed as I was with the Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins guitars there, but oh well.)Then we parted ways and I let the boys ramble and explore. We'd bump into each other periodically and exchange the "did you see" this or that conversations, and then go to respectively check out what the other party recommended. I think they particularly enjoyed seeing the original lyric sheet for Hendrix's Purple Haze, Jeff Beck's well-worn Telecaster:
and the signature display (instead of plaques, like the baseball Hall of Fame, the inductees have their signature on a wall in the induction hall; the signatures are white against a black background and the lighting is quite cool). Pete and Nathaniel violated the no picture rule once, telling me they couldn't resist getting their picture beside the display of the little statuette the inductees receive when they get in. That was neat.
But the "injustice" they marveled at (2 really) was that neither Nirvana nor the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been inducted. There was a big Springsteen thing going on ("two whole floors to Bruce Springsteen?!?!" they said, "but no Nirvana??? Metallica is in but not the Peppers??"). The rules of induction are that you are not eligible until 25 years after your first record release. My dispassionate pleas to them that, they probably are right on the cusp of those numbers, don't worry, they'll get in, was not enough for these boys. Then we hit the gift shop. They were very reserved shoppers, opting mainly for some cool posters (the Who and the Grateful Dead for Nathaniel).
A late afternoon swim, then dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which itself had some pretty darn cool memorabilia. We googled Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and found the dates of their first releases, and when we found they were almost, but not quite, at 25 years, I think they felt more reassured. That, and getting their picture taken next to Jimi Hendrix's purple pants, which were on display at the restaurant.
A lazy day on Wednesday, sleeping in, trotting briefly down to the Science Center, then on the plane back, and voila, what a trip. Thanks to the Holohan family for taking us to the airport and then feeding us pizza on our return. Really one of the best parts of the trip was the "debriefing"--the boys are great, well-suited for each other, but VERY quiet (they retired to their room (we had a pretty large suite that worked out nicely, I slept on the fold out couch in the main room), and I looked in to see what they were doing and they were reading books!!). But it was so great to hear them just buzzing about the whole trip to Faith and Michael, Pete's mom and dad.
Bad dad--I also suggested a return trip (senior trip, anyone?) to the induction ceremonies in a few years. The clips they had of those ceremonies looked pretty darn cool! (Prince jamming on While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Tom Petty? C'mon!)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
Monday is the big adventure to Cleveland--Monday night at Cleveland Indians game, then Tuesday to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Nathaniel. We'll be going with his friend Pete. Looking forward to it!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Good Weekend
Happy that my Uncle Dick made it through his difficult surgery this weekend! Also, it was great seeing family. We all were so happy he made it through the surgery - we couldn't even "see past it" to imagine enjoying each other's company, but it was great. Steve and Barb hosted several family meals and they were all delicious and fun. Then we went to a ballgame today (Mom, Nathaniel, Steve and I)--bad outcome, but fun at the old ballyard nonetheless. And Tom got a chance to come by Hammerstone's, and I know he enjoyed it.
Nice weekend!
Nice weekend!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
How about a little TLC?
Ever tell a friend to go get a nice bath? How about a nice chemical bath?
Well, I just did this week. Heck, I even agreed to pay for it.
I've known this friend since I was nine; met her in 1973. She was very dear to me, and I had a wonderful relationship with her through high school. She was my old stand-by. My first love, in a way.
"She" is my first horn, my beginning Conn cornet. She was squirreled away in my parents' garage for many years after I went to college and graduated to "finer" horns. But a few years back I got her out and she sounded pretty good. Real darn good, actually. So she came back to St. Louis.
I took her in to the wizard of St. Louis horn repair men, Bill Meyers. Blind Willie turned me on to him and he did a marvelous job with my 1979 Bach Strad (30-year birthday coming up in the fall--we'll have to have a celebration at Hammerstone's). Legend has it, according to Willie, that Bill Meyers once worked on Freddie Hubbard's trumpet, which had never been cleaned and was purportedly in terrible shape. I think the look of shock on Bill's face when I showed him the Strad several months back in its deplorable state must have been the same as when he saw Freddie's horn. (Hey, I've always fantasized about being called the second coming of Freddie Hubbard--I'll take what I can get!)
And who helps Bill out with his magic? Brian "Big B" Casserly of course. Brian sidled up to the counter with interest when I was dropping the horn off (in fact, he sort of edged Bill out of the way). They were looking at her lovingly, knowingly, like a dear friend we were all trying to do right by ("Look at the way the tuning slide curves under!" "Nice big bore!" "Oh, that's a Japanese manufacture" "I'm guessing 1960s, maybe 50s on that?" Brian noted. "Oh, no," Bill chimed in, "Got to be mid-70s, right Rob?" "Yep, she was new when I got 'er in '73" I said. "Oh yeah, look at that serial number, '70s for sure" said Brian.)
She'll be ready next week, and I can't wait to take her down and show her off on the Wednesday jazz jam session. Love a cornet sound--not a trumpet, not a flugel, but it's own wonderful sound. You just play different on a cornet--they horn makes you play different ideas.
Good to see you again, girl--enjoy that chemical bath!
Well, I just did this week. Heck, I even agreed to pay for it.
I've known this friend since I was nine; met her in 1973. She was very dear to me, and I had a wonderful relationship with her through high school. She was my old stand-by. My first love, in a way.
"She" is my first horn, my beginning Conn cornet. She was squirreled away in my parents' garage for many years after I went to college and graduated to "finer" horns. But a few years back I got her out and she sounded pretty good. Real darn good, actually. So she came back to St. Louis.
I took her in to the wizard of St. Louis horn repair men, Bill Meyers. Blind Willie turned me on to him and he did a marvelous job with my 1979 Bach Strad (30-year birthday coming up in the fall--we'll have to have a celebration at Hammerstone's). Legend has it, according to Willie, that Bill Meyers once worked on Freddie Hubbard's trumpet, which had never been cleaned and was purportedly in terrible shape. I think the look of shock on Bill's face when I showed him the Strad several months back in its deplorable state must have been the same as when he saw Freddie's horn. (Hey, I've always fantasized about being called the second coming of Freddie Hubbard--I'll take what I can get!)
And who helps Bill out with his magic? Brian "Big B" Casserly of course. Brian sidled up to the counter with interest when I was dropping the horn off (in fact, he sort of edged Bill out of the way). They were looking at her lovingly, knowingly, like a dear friend we were all trying to do right by ("Look at the way the tuning slide curves under!" "Nice big bore!" "Oh, that's a Japanese manufacture" "I'm guessing 1960s, maybe 50s on that?" Brian noted. "Oh, no," Bill chimed in, "Got to be mid-70s, right Rob?" "Yep, she was new when I got 'er in '73" I said. "Oh yeah, look at that serial number, '70s for sure" said Brian.)
She'll be ready next week, and I can't wait to take her down and show her off on the Wednesday jazz jam session. Love a cornet sound--not a trumpet, not a flugel, but it's own wonderful sound. You just play different on a cornet--they horn makes you play different ideas.
Good to see you again, girl--enjoy that chemical bath!
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