"We have the same taste in jazz", she exclaimed. I could only agree with her. Neither of us received any formal training at all but we knew what we liked and didn't.
The sort of jazz that people who like Avant Garde like the kind of jazz that we despise. Like, if there is a soundtrack to hell, that is what is playing.
We like smooth sounds, sexy sounds that make a non dancer dance, the kind of music that kicks your ass and throws you out. The kind of music that makes you want to throw away your instruments because no matter how hard you try and how much you play, you will never have a fraction of the skill these players have.
We once saw Brubeck in the Blue Note. It was a highlight of my life. I knew for sure that I was in the company of greatness. Watching the old man struggle just to walk and make it up a couple of steps was sobering.
The smell of red wine and exuberance permeates the air.
People made friends on the sidewalk outside but now there are no pleasantries exchanged. If you are not listening, you will be pummelled.
If you are not watching you will be judged by the rest of us.
For chrissakes, this is one of those times you feel like you are the master of your life because the dreams become reality and reality becomes the stuff of legend and something that is worth writing down...