Generations and Jazz

Yes, it’s been awhile since I last posted. I got distracted.
　

Yes, that is our house.  And yes, that was our tree.

A tree hitting the house at 11:30 at night is a little like a Max Roach bomb. It’s quick, then it’s over. My wife and I said "that was a close one"--and went back to sleep. 

Now a policeman shouting at you from about fifteen feet outside your bedroom door is more like a Dizzy Gillespie entrance. It gets your attention and holds it, insists on it.

And house repair time is like–well, I don’t know because it is still going on.

Back before the tree asserted itself, I was talking about the sense of community jazz carries with it and offers to all. I just got another taste of that.

A couple of weeks ago Dick Guider sat in with us at the Longbranch. He is a trumpet player from Las Vegas Eddie has known for many years.

It was a treat to have Dick join us because, first, the guy is really good. I especially enjoyed it when we played "St Louis Blues." We have never played that before, but Eddie sang the opening chorus, then Dick took over and the rhythm section locked on. Sometimes something sounds and feels so good that one feels levitated. By the time I got to solo I was already about two feet off the ground.

But my enjoyment didn’t end there. Zach Gignac is a good young friend of the band; he drops in to hear us whenever he gets the chance. He belongs to a group called The Pocket Tones.

I have never heard them, but Eddie has and he has sat in with them.

At the break I saw Zach in conversation with Dick Guider. There are maybe three generations calendar-wise between them. The sight made me remember my own experience, many many years ago, with a trumpet player named Stompey Whitlock.

These moments of contact keep the music rolling.