BCM Blog

My 2 Cents

I'm a little late to respond to the latest controversy taking the jazzer internet by storm.  I'm referring of course to the debate over whether or not jazz has died and what, if anything, can be done to save it.  If you are new to this discussion, skip to the bottom of this post  and go below the fold where I've mapped out the articles that instigated this discussion as well as the responses. 

I haven't been able to stop think about it and after reading Dave Douglas's response, I felt inspired to throw in my 2 cents. Initially, upon reading Teachout's now infamous WSJ article I felt exasperated.  While I agreed for the most part with his points that the jazz audience is dwindling and something needs to happen in relation to the audiences to bring the popularity back, I found the dismal  and condescending tone of the article to be unhelpful and to be honest, a bit redundant.  Didn't we already know this? Did we really need the NEA's latest Survey of ­Public Participation in the Arts to tell us this. No and NO!  Then again, perhaps the intended readership was the not the jazz community, but those who probably have no idea whats going on with jazz these days. 

Nate Chinen's optimistic response was appreciated, but fell a little short as it seemed to exist purely to contradict the interpretations of the survey.  His anecdotal evidence has value in that it proves that clubs are still getting attendance, but I'm not sure if using high profile shows of the top 1% of the jazz performers in a city where people, non-Americans especially, visit with the purpose of seeing a token jazz show is the best representation of the state of jazz audiences today.  And perhaps that wasn't his point exactly, and I'm certainly not try to pick another fight, but the article, like Teachout's, did not seem to offer any course of action.

This is why I appreciated Dave Douglas's response on one of the newer jazz blogs to spring up, NPR's A Blog Supreme.  The short article discusses the appointment of Rocco Landesman as the new chairman of the NEA and how this appointment can aid the ailing jazz community through its proposed individual artist grants, the very grant program that Douglas credits for helping him get started back in 1990.  A few things Douglas said struck a chord with me:

So we're conflicted as a country about the arts, much the way we're conflicted about change in our not-so-effective health care system. We don't like the system the way it is, but we're also afraid our leaders won't get it right. We're caught between wanting to clean up the arts for communities, but still wanting to support vital, hot-blooded but potentially transgressive art.

[...]

We oughtn't to have overly strong opinions about this. We ought to respect those who disagree with us. We carry all the contradictions right within ourselves. The panelists and executive directors will make the best decisions they can, hopefully with our input, and then we'll move on and swing to the rhythm of the programs they've put on the stand. No doubt the free market will also kick in and play whatever role it has to play.

[...]

To me, this kind of thinking is more productive than discussions of whether jazz is dead or arguments about how programs should decide who gets funded. We should wish Rocco luck and work to make sure he can do the work that he wants to do.

While I might nit pick the part about not having strong opinions or trusting panelists, I very much appreciate his forward moving and non-complaining attitude. It's downright refreshing. 

This morning on a gruelingly hot and sticky run, I found Douglas's attitude infectious and started thinking about how to articulate the thoughts I've had on this issue for some time now especially in regards to what steps could be taken to help jazz come out if its recession.  Here's what I came up with. 

1. Accessibility

A large chunk of jazz music is just not accessible to those who do not play jazz.  You really have to be somewhat educated in the music to truly be able to understand, appreciate, and enjoy what is being played.  I remember very clearly my first listen to Charlie Parker.  My thoughts went like this: "Wow he plays fast!" "I love his sound!" "I have no idea what he's doing and all the songs sound the same." I put that tape away and did not take it back out for a couple of years after I had studied a few Abersolds! 

Each artist makes a decision to write either for themselves or for their audience, and I respect either way, as long as the former is not complaining about the latter.  If we want new audiences, we need to write/perform for them.  READ THIS: I'm not at all saying we dumb down the music, we just give the audience a little something to grab onto.  I refer to an experience I had last year listening to my boyfriend play his ass off on some originals and a few standards at a bar/restaurant.  The crowd was decent, but only into it during conversational lulls.  So out of the bag he pulled "Take the A Train," a song that for as much as I love Ellington, I could never hear again and be happy.  But... the crowd, LOVED IT. They were actually hooting and hollering and they into the music for the rest of the night. 

I think we often get so caught up in the art of our music that we forget that unlike many's life philosophy, with music, the song IS the destination, not the journey.  In the end, to a listener, especially one that is not as educated in the music, the process isn't important, it doesn't matter the highly advanced chord structure, or intricate use of hemiola in the B section, or even the subtlety of the muted brass blending with the woodwinds.  What matters it whether or not is sounds good. Bottom line.  You like it or you don't.  This is the make or break opinion of a new listener.  There's a reason its called a "hook." Hook them in, educate them later.  Because obviously all of the above does matter, and is very important, and contributes entirely to the overall sound experience.  But where as a studied jazz listener can say, "Well I wasn't crazy about the melody (or lack there of) but the orchestration and use of alto flute was pure genius so sure, I'll spend$.99 to download that track." I can almost guarantee the new listener would simply say, "huh?"

I do think today's jazz is on the right track in this regard.  I think both The Bad Plus and Darcy James Argue can appeal to an open minded indie rock fan.  I've heard Jason Moran and The Bandwagon put on a show that was practically a straight up RnB/smooth jazz show, and Robert Glasper is hopefully gleaning some of the hip hop audience through his time with Mos Def.  I don't think all jazz artists need to go this "fringe" route as I sometimes call it, but I think a little dipping into that pool, whether it be through today's popular music, or recalling the popular standards of yesteryear, can only help reel on the cusp listeners.  And I believe we can do that without compromising our artistic integrity.

2. Distribution

I truly believe most jazz is best heard live.  There is nothing better than feeling the energy of the players, the audience (if its a good one) and knowing you are witnessing the creation of music through the improvisation.  There's also the thrill of trying to catch everything happening on first listen.  The problem is, it is almost impossible to go hear live music these days.  Not because there aren't enough musicians to fill the stages, but because it is too damn expensive! I personally can't even afford to go hear my friend's gigs, let alongenew music! When clubs charge a $10 cover, PLUS $20 minimum, they instantly define their audience based on economics rather than the musical interest.  How can that compete with the bars featuring the singer/songwriter de jour where the cover is $5 with no drink minimum? I can only assume these expensive jazz clubs charge what they do because they have to (at least I HOPE that's why) but until places start offering music at a cheaper cost, or more free festivals spring up, well meaning and respected initiatives such as Search and Restore can only do so much. 

Not to mention the lack of jazz clubs in other cities.  Every town has at least 1 bar with an open mic. Many towns have community orchestras or better.  Seems there's always a local production of "Fiddler on the Roof" happening thanks to the many community theaters present in typical towns.  Yet, few towns have anything resembling jazz.  How can we expect those communities to get into the genre when they have no exposure to it?

While waiting on the clubs to make our music accessible, I think we have to rely on other media formats to get our music out.  Social internet networking is slowly helping.  Websites like ReverbNation are great because they offer a no risk  (free downloads in most cases) scenario for trying new music and make it easy for the musicians to spread their music through widgets (as I have made great use of.) The first time I heard Darcy James Argue's music was through a free download off his blog/website.  It was only after listening for while to those recordings that I decided to check him out live and I'm now a fan.  Supporting each other and giving recommendations is crucial as well as I think we really need to rely on word of mouth to spread our music. 

Really though, I think what would make the biggest difference in spreading jazz is the integration into mainstream media.  This seems to be the new way of advertising the rock/pop/indie music these days.  I'm not really in that scene any more, meaning that I don't listen to the radio, I was going to say or watch MTV... but I guess MTV doesn't really show videos anymore (shoot! Just showed my age there!).  But the few pop artists that I have checked out in the pass few years have been from ones I've heard featured in TV shows and commercials.  For the sake of this argument, I will admit to downloading the soundtracks to Grey's Anatomy seasons  2 AND 3.  If they put out a season 4, I'd probably download it too.  I don't even watch that show anymore but it has proved to be a reliable source of new music that fit my tastes when I'm in the mood for that sort of thing.  New pop musicians, such as Kate Havnevik, Ingrid Michaelson, and Regina Spektor have made themselves known through this marketing method.  Is there no music house out there willing to pitch some jazz track to these guys? I can certainly hear any of the aforementioned artists fitting into various scenes of most CW/ABC teen dramas.  Are these music houses out there? Are they trying hard enough? Are we giving them music that can use? See again point 1.

3.  Finally, and I guess this is 3 pennies now for my thoughts (which may be all they are worth!), I look to the educators to help out us.  Speaking as someone who has taught general and instrumental music as well as theory, ear training, and basic composition to both private and public school kids grades K-12 in 3 different states, I can safely say, music teachers already have their hands full with scheduling conflicts, administrations, lack of funding, broken instruments, lack of resources, lack of rooms in some cases, marching band, national standards, and concerts scheduled simply to give principals bragging rights (never mind that the month leading up to concert date is consumed entirely with standardized testing, making it impossible for students to even attend band class!).  Add that to their own personal teaching philosophy of what is important in music education.  To ask them to accommodate one more aspect of music could be the straw that breaks the music teacher's sanity. But I'm gonna ask it anyway. 

I think one way of truly building a new jazz audience is to start with the youngest generation possible... well, the youngest in education.  The Kindergartners.  No, they don't need to be schooled in the importance of Coltrane's Love Supreme, they just need a Good Musical Experience.  That's it.  And some general exposure to ANY kind of jazz music.  If kids enjoy general music (and lots of them don't- please don't force them to sing!) they will be more likely to sign up for band.  If they like band they will sign up for jazz band.  If they have a Good Musical Experience in jazz band, well, you just may have hooked a new audience member.  And having exposure to the way jazz music sounds from the beginning would be most helpful.  When I play jazz for my students during listening exercises, I STILL to this day  get the response "I don't like it because it's elevator music." It's what? Where did they even learn that term? Few elevators these days even have music in it, much less anything that resembles even bad jazz.  Somewhere along the line they were taught that jazz music was elevator music.  When they hear it sounds unfamiliar so they group it into the closest thing they can think of.  Elevator music.  I'm convinced that if kids where exposed to jazz on a regular basis and the words "elevator music" where never uttered, they would not have that opinion.

I'm further convinced that all it takes is a Good Musical Experience to open kids up to new music.  This worked with me.  I LOVED playing in my high school jazz band. Its entirely what prompted me to start studying jazz. Of course when I started learning more about jazz, I realized I wasn't actually playing jazz back in high school, but it didn't matter, because it hooked me in and now I was going to learn everything about it.  Sure it would have been better if I had been playing "Take the A Train" than the "Shoop Shoop Song" and perhaps my first few years of undergrad would have been easier, but the point is, it was enough to hook me in.  

So educators, you don't necessarily have to be jazzers to teach it. Just help us out and expose it a little here and there and continue to give these students Good Musical Experiences!

Jazzers... we can help by giving free clinics, workshops, and performances at these schools. Over this past summer I had a "listening day" with my theory classes where instead of me playing songs, they would get to share their own music.  One student brought in a John Pizzarelli CD! I was so surprised! When asked how she had heard of him, she said he gave a presentation every year at her school. As a teacher, I have brought in my peers to do masterclasses and the kids treated them like celebrities. It may not have a direct payoff, but if the problem is that we can not get new listeners into jazz because they are not educated enough in the music to enjoy it, then lets educate them.  And in addition to the growing amount of blogs out there and the few magazines we have, going into the classroom is just as vital.

And those are my 2, er I mean 3 cents.

It takes a ginormous amount of time, energy, and faith to create this music.  Lets conserve our energy for the music and the audience and waste none on the naysayers.  Though I must give Teachout some final credit, while his article may not have initially seemed helpful, it certainly spawned an internet outrage that can be used to our advantage if we chose to make it.

For those who want to follow the chronology of the controversy, see below the fold.

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?

The Passion

An exact quarter of my mom’s homemade lemon meringue pie.

That’s what I had for breakfast this morning. I haven’t eaten sweets since Tuesday, Feb. 5, and I had to make up for lost time.

Veteran readers and close friends all know that for the 40 days leading up to Easter, I observe Lent by abstaining from sweets. I’ve been doing this for years. I love the challenge, and feel detoxified from the Christmas gorging. Plus… there is just something about Lent.

No, I don’t really practice my Catholic upbringing any more. But I am certainly grateful for it, particularly the Lenten season.

It was during Lent that I experienced one of the most profound and influential musical experiences of my childhood which fueled and ignited my passion for music, and had a direct impact on the direction I would take music in my life.

When my father was stationed at Quantico, VA for the second time, I was in grades 3-7. This was the time in my life when we were most active in the church; my mom played guitar for the Saturday night masses, and I sang in the children’s choir which sang in the Children’s Masses (once a month I think). I’ve mentioned this before, but the director of the children’s choir and the Saturday night Folk Masses was named Carol Hayes. She had the most beautiful singing voice I had ever heard and in many ways I idolized her almost as much as Wonder Woman. Listening to her and my mom play every week definitely showed me how meaningful and fun music could be.

One year, the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) staged a Living Stations of the Cross. Mrs. Hayes and my mom were involved in producing the music for this presentation which used only narration, silent acting, and music to tell the story behind each station. I remember sitting up in the choir loft with my mom, peering over the railing, and watching the tragic story unfold to the mournful melodies of the choir. I remember how eerie and shocking it was when the music cut out, heightening the drama as a boy portraying Jesus was nailed to the cross- the silence interrupted by the sounds of the hammer hitting the wood and the boy crying out sent bolts down my spine and still cause my stomach to flip when I think of it now. I had never at that point in my life been so moved or felt such passion as a result of music and drama. I was brought to tears, which I innocently let fall.

In the following years, I became more involved in the Living Stations, singing and later (after a move to Camp Lejeune, NC) directing the music. I remember searching for instrumental incidental music (as I now know it’s called) and settling on the soundtracks from Somewhere In Time and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (still two of my favorite scores). I remember cutting and cuing the tapes (yes, cassette tapes- this was the early 90s folks!) and fading the music in and out as I watched the action below with a hawk’s eye so that I could perfectly time the music for ultimate dramatic effect.

My 9th grade year was my last involvement in the Living Stations as a bad experience involving a youth retreat, the beach, and Zima severed our relations with that church. In the years since, my distance from the Catholic Church has grown considerably. But I am always brought back just a little at Lent. I have never forgotten the passion felt first as an observer and later as a participant in the Living Stations.

More importantly, I attribute those Living Stations experiences to my drive to tell stories and portray dramatic empathy through my compositions. It’s practically impossible for me to write anything if there is not a story, real or fictional inspiring it. I understand now that it is that same emotional reaction that I had to the Living Stations that I hope to create for my listeners and players.

Today on Easter Sunday, as I type away on the Amtrak heading back to NY, eating my mom’s homemade tea cookies to the envy of my seat partner, I marvel at the realization that my life’s goals may not have been cosmically predetermined, but rather a result of an isolated experience. And I can’t help but smile as I am again reminded that children do not always learn the lesson you are trying to impress upon them. I remember the Living Stations like I do my dreams- by the emotion felt during the telling. I do not remember what each of the stations is about, or even how many there are, but I will not forget the lesson of how music (or lack of) can be used to tell a story. And because of that experience, no matter how distant I find myself from the spiritual meaning of Easter, I will always be brought back, just a little, by the music.

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.

" Strong, female characters "

This weekend I had a massive copy job to finish- over 50 pages of music to input into Sibelius by Sunday. Since the Hungarian Pastry Shop was still closed for renovation, I decided to just stay at home to do the work- I’m faster on my desktop anyway. Plus it would give me to a chance to watch (listen) to my newly acquired Wonder Woman Season 2 DVDs.

I was a bit apprehensive about Season 2; I didn’t want my childhood favorite to be tainted by watching through grown up eyes. That is what happened when I eagerly bought Season 1 a couple years ago when it was first released to DVD. I remember popping in that first disc, and 5 minutes into the pilot thinking, Who are these boring WWII military dudes, and when are they going to show Paradise Island?!? I’m sorry, but that first season is BORING. How did I love this show as a kid? I don’t even have the attention span for it as an adult! And what’s more, Diana is annoying! Will she ever stop swooning over Steve Trevor and doesn’t she find his swooning over Wonder Woman a bit demeaning? To be honest, I found that season to be a bit sexist! (and that is a word I use sparingly; as a female jazz musician, I have experienced too much testosterone to cry “sexist” at every small offense).


Nonetheless, I hoped that with the revamping of the show out of the 40’s and into the 70’s, there would be improvement. And after watching (listening to) almost the entire season on Saturday, I was not only pleasantly surprised, but greatly relieved. THERE was the Diana Prince and Wonder Woman that inspired me as a child. Sure, WW’s costume was a bit skimpier, but Diana Prince was just as bad ass as WW! For starters, she was no longer Steve’s assistant, but his associate (love that Themyscirian hypnosis!). She no longer bat puppy dog eyes at Steve, and while he still held an infatuation for WW it is balanced by his respect for Diana. I appreciate how Diana/WW was the same character from the first season and this story just literally toke place 30 years later. And while I feel like the comic’s version of Wonder Woman is more serious, down to business, and even a tiny bit jaded, I love that the TV series portrays Diana and Wonder Woman as very optimistic and eager to find the good in every person or villain (which were constantly getting no more than hand slaps!). It’s just refreshing.

Watching this season brought a wave of nostalgia and realization of how strongly this show influenced me and is at least partially responsible for my current career path. Like many whose childhood was spent in the 80s, I grew up on those WW reruns. I idolized Diana Prince and thought Wonder Woman was the most beautiful woman in the world. I wasn’t really into TV, but I have distinct memories of running next door to my neighbor’s house to get my friend Jay because “Wonder Woman was coming on.” I remember forcing Jay to play “Wonder Woman” with me. I would make him be Steve Trevor (I was a very bossy little girl) and I would be Wonder Woman and would save him from whatever bad thing our 5 year old minds could think of (as we lived on a military base, I’m sure we were able to think of many “bad” things). At the time, Wonder Woman was just a fun game, but looking back as an adult, I see how strongly the show and more over, the character of Wonder Woman influenced me.

To begin with, she was someone I felt I could relate too. I remember fretting that because I had brown hair, I could never be as pretty as those with blond hair (lets blame Barbie for that!). But here was this woman with brown hair and blue eyes, just like me, and she was beautiful! And not only beautiful, but strong, kind, and a hero. The daughter of a Marine, and living on a Marine Base at the time, I was very aware of “heroes” and the concept of saving lives. But, the majority of the Marines I knew were men. To see a female hero, and at a such a young age where I didn’t completely recognize the difference between fiction and reality, taught me a sense of equality between men and women that I never bothered to question thereafter. Of course, I would be remised if I didn’t point out that my mother was also a very strong, independent woman and growing up, it never occurred to me that women could be viewed as lesser beings than men.

That crucial exposure as a child set a precedence: I still today find myself being influenced by strong, female characters. Any given day, I may gain motivation from characters such as Buffy, Sydney Bristow, Veronica Mars, and Lara Croft as well as Black Canary, Oracle, and Donna Troy (whose history of having to restart her life repeatedly I could relate to the most, as I was constantly restarting my life every 2 years as a military brat, and whose story inspired the partially autobiographical song “Serenade for Donna Troy”).

It’s not that I feel oppressed or heavily discriminated against, in fact, most men I know and associate with are very comfortable with women and our role in society. But as someone who loves finding reality in art, I can’t help but be inspired when I read about Oracle out-smarting the Calculator, complete the Bolivia level of Tomb Raider, or watch River Tam beat down the Reavers and Diana Prince spin into Wonder Woman.

It used to be that I only had those fictional characters to look up to, but now my world has been opened to the genius of Maria Schneider, Asne Seierstad, Gail Simone, Joan Stiles, Ingrid Jensen, Paula Radcliff, Deena Kastor, Twyla Tharp, and Pam Pietro, to name a few.

A few years ago I had the privilege of attending a benefit for Equality Now. The organization was honoring men who made an impact on women’s equality. Joss Whedon, among others, was being recognized. Joss’s speech on “strong female characters” brought chills to my arms and tears to my eyes (as did the incredible stories of the ordinary men who were also being honored). Afterwards, I sheepishly introduced myself to Joss, got a photo with him (below), an autograph on Astonishing X-Men #1, and slipped him a CD of my Infinite Crisis inspired Master’s Recital (hear it here). He was a super nice guy whose sincerity in his beliefs were clear by his willingness to meet and greet all of his female fans.

If you have a few minutes, watch this video of his speech:

Living life, male or female, and pursuing art, can be extremely challenging. I feel lucky that I have such a large bag of inspiration to pull from when it is needed. I will always feel grateful that I was exposed to a strong, female character at such a young, impressionable age, whose influence continues to assist me down this sometimes cold, NY, coffee driven path.

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?

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.

29

Yesterday, I turned 29. Today, I stayed in my pajamas for all but the 5 minutes it took to run downstairs to buy a cheap $7 bottle of wine. Now, I am watching NBC's coverage of the fireworks celebration of the 4th of July. I always think I don't care about such occasions at watching fireworks for a national holiday until I find myself on my second glass, in my PJs with dirty hair, watching other people happily celebrating. Then, the inevitable thought, "maybe I should have gotten off my a$$, taken a shower, and not stayed a hermit once again." Sigh. Oh well, too late now.

The last few weeks have been, to understate, quite intense.

First, I had my school's end of the year Spring Concert which proved to be much more stressful that I anticipated. I hope to post mp3s from that concert soon (they really are quite cute!).

Then came the week of mad writing to finish this piece for my grandmother's 85th birthday. This became quite an undertaking. Don't believe what they tell you- it is MUCH harder to write music about real people than fictional superheroes! After many manic nights of hammering down the usual initial writer's block, overcoming the insecurity that always plagues me when the time comes to actually call players for the session, rushing late to said session in a cab secretly feeling a little like a rock star, and the final consumption of the god's sweet nectar also known as a Venti Caramel Macchiato (thanks Heidi!), I had a decent recording of "Ike & Ellie."

Of course on first listen I immediately regretted much of what I wrote and have massive plans for a rewrite. Luckily, the fantastic musicians pulled off my shotty writing and at this past weekend's family reunion, enough tears were shed during the playing of "Ike & Ellie" that I know the gesture was well received.

Nevertheless, I am exhausted. Hence the all day veg, and lack of internet correspondence for the past few weeks!

My birthday yesterday was actually quite nice. I had a birthday breakfast with Laura before she flew out to Austria for the summer, then a quick sojourn to Central Park to start my new book before heading out to Queens for a 3 hour meeting with my principal, Fran (the other AWESOME music teacher at my school) and Lucy (the equally AWESOME dance teacher) to discuss scheduling for next year. Then off to teach just 2 lessons up in Eastchester followed by margaritas at the Heights with Jess, Jenn, and Nad. The day was full and I had to carry around my clarinet, flute, and sax all day, but I felt so relieved not to be spending every waking second thinking about writing or teaching.

I suppose I should say something profound about turning 29.

...

Anyway, camp starts tomorrow and I admit I feel more like a career teacher than career writer, but I suppose that will do for now. Believe it or not, there is more gratitude in teaching:

Happy 4th of July.

Joy of the Ode

Beethoven again. Last week I went to hear the famous Symphony No. 9 in D Minor, the “Choral” Symphony, performed by the Juilliard Choral Union & Orchestra (my 5th grade clarinet student would be so proud). I had never before heard the work in its entirety, least not in one sitting. I must admit that as I eased into my seat at Avery Fisher Hall, I felt a bit of pressure to like what I was about to hear. It is, after all, considered to be one of his greatest masterpieces. It (supposedly) is the reason for the initial 74 minute length CD. It’s “Ode to Joy” theme is the anthem of Europe! What would it mean about my own musicianship if I didn’t agree with the Big B’s musical choices?

Rather than worry about that, I found myself dwelling during the first movement about society’s expectations in art. One can hardly stand up and proclaim their disdain for the world’s favorite “Ode to Joy” with out being pelted with a few stones for being an arrogant traitor. One would at least expect an extremely well supported explanation for their treachery (see DJA’s Milton Babbit quote in “We’re Separated At Birth”).

Regardless, I was relieved when I recognized and fully enjoyed the second movement. The third movement was beautiful, but I must admit to being lulled into a zone of mindless wondering. This in turn instigated a thought process on my short attention span for concerts. I am SO guilty of this and like the media blame my Nintendo and PC versions of Splinter Cell and Tomb Raider. Actually I don’t blame them at all, but I do wish I had the ability to focus on the intricacies of longer works of music.

I was roused from this reverie as the third movement ended and the much anticipated fourth began. Oh, the excitement in the air! People woke up, leaned forward in their chairs, bodies tense as they waited to hear that famous melody. I realized that I was not actually familiar with this movement despite the melody and was shocked then awed to hear “Ode to Joy” begin in unison cellos and bass. Interesting… I thought to myself. As the line repeatedly moved across the orchestra, I felt I finally understood the terms “genius” and “masterpiece.” It was this incredible development of the theme that made the deepest impression on me. I wasn’t the only listener enjoying this movement; people all around were nodding their heads as if at a rock concert! They LOVED this music! It really was the most surreal experience I’ve ever had at a classical concert.

Of course the question I immediately asked was did they like it because of the high level of musicianship in the performance, or the genius of Beethoven’s writing, or the drama of Beethoven writing it while dealing with his recent loss of hearing, or because this melody is pounded at us in church, commercials, even cell phone rings? And then… did it matter? These people enjoyed the concert. Their day was made better. You could maybe go as far as say their lives were improved. And I don’t think the media’s propaganda of this tune is the sole reason people love it. They love it because it is a well written hook that is easy to sing along with making it accessible to all people regardless of their musical training. Interesting.

One last note about Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony: Only Beethoven could get away with writing a piece that requires over 100 singers to wait almost an hour before getting the chance to sing.

Dreaming of Americana

I mentioned dreams earlier... I was shocked when I read that diary entry from 1999. I had forgotten how I dreamt of being a good classical saxophonist (!!!) and my heart jumped when I read that I wanted to be not a decent, nor good, but great as I had underlined, dancer. That’s the lost dream I most lament. Funny how there was no mention of writing. Of course in ’99 I had not yet taken that fateful jazz arranging class with Steve Haines that put me on my current path.

Recently, I have developed a new dream. This one inspired by the reading of Asne Seierstad’s A Hundred And One Days. I now dream of refining my writing skill and becoming a musical journalist, reporting from places around the world. Typically this day dream involves places outside the US of A. After all, I have my shiny new passport and I want to bulk up the stampage!

However, I have been once again inspired by another artist.

I know almost nothing about photographer Stephen Shore. Only the little bit mentioned in the NY Times article promoting his latest exhibit and some follow-up wikipedia research. The slide show accompanying the NYT article featured shots of 1970’s Americana.

Those eight pictures remind me of the hidden intrigue America’s interstates can offer. I know they are there, I’ve experienced them myself.

Growing up military, I have lived in three of the four corners of our country. I have driven across the US at least 4 times. I loved these monstrous car trips. The hotels, the rest stops, the diners, the occasional tourist attraction. I yearn to experience them again. They call to me to be found, and reported on.

Asne writes the books, Stephen took the pictures, I want to write the music.

“Biographical Landscape: The Photography of Stephen Shore, 1969-1979” runs through September 9 at the International Center of Photography, 1133 Avenue of the Americas, at 43rd Street; (212) 857-0000 or icp.org.