Thursday, March 4, 2010

There are no wrong notes in jazz...

...just cats with poor resolution skills.

I recently had occasion to witness a live jazz set wherein a well regarded local up and comer was sitting in on the tune Stella by Starlight. The young man as I recall took the head alone and to my ears was supposed to state the theme and take a chorus or two of improvisation before opening it up to whoever felt they had something to add.

Immediately following the introduction it became abundantly evident that we were not going to follow that plan. Now I don't know whether the young fellow didn't know the tune or if he was doing some next level shit that was too cool for school but it got my attention right away. I immediately ceased the deep and completely thorough contemplation of the internal complexities of my beer and had a little look see to ascertain just what we had here.

The musician who was leading the gig soon grabbed his horn and started blowing over the top of the young man so as to take over the solo. I thought gig leader guy would clean it it up and take the tune back into a more traditional groove. But instead of taking us back to the normal he continued to develop the rhythmic and melodic pattern that young up and comer guy had set. I don't know if he was trying to cover for him or if he wanted that groove for himself but it was clear we weren't in Kansas anymore. It started off as a typical type of improvisation melodically, but rhythmically it was way off kilter from what I was expecting.

We never did get the regular tune back. Everybody just kind of followed along down that same path until the original tune was barely even recognizable. We truly found some new things in the music that night, certainly things that I had never heard before and more importantly never will hear again. The magic existed just for that moment in time and only for those conscious or sober enough to consume it.

This is why you sit in smokey dives night after night making idle chit chat with idiots who are barely literate and certainly not sober; to be there when the magic happens. You can't bottle it, and when its gone its gone but while it was here you bore witness to it.

Years from now, when you are lying on your deathbed contemplating your minuscule and soon to be extinct existence on this planet your mind may wander back to that night and you'll think, YEAH!

That ladies and gentlemen is what jazz is all about.


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