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I have been doing a lot of laundry lately.  More laundry in the past two months than in the past two years as it was on Kristen’s side of the chore list.  I am not complaining it is one of those things that just has to be done and tonight it was an experience. 

It was a small load.  Mostly towels with three and a half pairs of red socks added (I am always looking for clean red socks) and perhaps a t-shirt of two.  Not great shirts, the kind you wear around the house when using a plumber’s snake or perhaps scrubbing the litter box.  Looking back I am glad I ignored the urge I had to say “playing with a plumber’s snake” as that sounds even dirtier.  At any rate it was random.  I don’t separate colors and whites in loads like this, who needs or wants too.  Towels and rags? 

When I went downstairs to the laundry room that third time to take the clean, warm, lavendar scented clean goodness out and bring it back up to the living room for folding I almost fell over.  I pulled out a few random pieces from the dryer and look closer.  I felt like a really cheesy commercial, the kind from the early 90’s that have that late-afternoon Sunday sun glare angleing downward through the windows/door covered in widow. 

My whites were…  whiter?  My colors brighter?  Really?  Why has this started working now?  Why tonight?  And why old towels, boxer shorts & socks?  And why did I earlier refer to my underwear as rags?  I must begin thinking more highly of myself.  I obviously deserve it.

Regardless.  My laundry came back to me in better condition than it was in before I paid $3 to wash and dry it.  Amazed. 

And regarding the Eagles pre-searson game:  how amazingly annoying was it when that dude on the Colts flew down, swooping aggressively out of the sun to SLAP THE BALL OUT OF THE AIR at the end of the Eagles game tonight?  Not so amazing as a slow motion replay as it reminds me of a large bird flying into and bouncing off a blimp.

With all the bad stuff going on I forgot that I have a few images of fun from this summer.  Let’s review.

I have been lucky enough to have had a lot of gigs this summer.  My own name has gotten more well known and I have done just under a dozen private parties.  I’ve also rejoined Melissa Martin and the Mighty Rhythm Kings and we have played all over the state, region, and traveled to North Carolina and Baltimore.  At 3am after rolling back into town and unloading my car I realized I needed  a bite to eat.  So I walked to the Wawa near my house and met these folk:

Mt. Airy Wawa @ 3 AM

The Pastorius Park Concert Series featured a night that had a backing band of Tony Garro, Drew Ericksen, Jason Fifield & Don Williams.  The featured performers were David Cope, Katie Drake, Roger Learnard and myself.  It was the highest attendance of any of the Past Park Series.

 

July 15 2009

 

Lets not forget the day-job.  Chef Carl Drake once again blows my mind with his own creation of the Ratatouille Napoleon.

 

www.drakecatering.com

 

My good friends and former neighbors Ann Foley and Jeff Carrintong finally tied the knot on Aug. 8th.  I worked with Ann at O’Doodle’s for two years and we were neighbors for three years.  I lived above Chico’s in Chestnut Hill and Ann & Jeff lived above us.

 

Ann & Jeff

 

And then there was the Philly Folk Fest.  I had never been so imagine my delight when I am asked to perform not once, but TWICE!

 

Folk Fest 1

Folk Fest 2

 

And finally.  This summer I met, and fell in love with, the hype over WAX HITLER!

(we’ve got wax brit spears, why not the next level of evil?)

WAX IDIOT

The story of how I was rescued from Hurricane Katrina is an amazing one and will, hopefully, one day end a book I plan to write of my life and times in the legendary City that Care Forgot.

But my poor wife has had enough.  Her life has been a mess since she was 15 and as her husband I want it all to stop.  I guess this is a plea to the man above - a kind of open dialogue.  I am totally ready for your answer but, dude, it’s getting old. 

Give her a break.  Please ease up on the constant pain she has found herself in.  It is heartbreaking to hear those moans 80% of the night.  I hate having to sleep separately after 8 years of not spending more than two nights apart.  She doesn’t need to bleed from everywhere you shouldn’t bleed from.  She doesn’t deserver to have to ask for help to put a shirt on.

It’s hard on people like us.  Most jazz musicians do not have health insurance.  I am blessed with a great friend and boss in Carl who has helped up deal with Kristen’s medical bills. 

Tomorrow Ann Foley gets married. Ann is like a sister to me.  We met at O’Doodle’s in our positions as Fran O’Donnell’s right and left hand go-to people.  We became fast friends and her Jeff is a great guy.  Kristen fell for Ann too and we both feel so much for her.  Kristen has been looking forward to Ann’s wedding for a year now and she can’t go.  I will have to go in her place and, quite honestly, it will feel weird. 

I miss my wife and I miss my best friend.  Please give her a break.  She has been in pain far too long and we are all more than willing to do anything to help her.

Growing up I was blessed with the gift of tapes of old radio shows.  This led me to enjoying old movies.  The advent of DVDs has allowed me to experience aspects of the bygone era like newsreels.  Ah, newsreels.  Amazing pieces of mass propaganda that is, usually, so blindly unbiased you have to smile.  “Four out of five Doctors smoke Camels!”

A problem I have had since Clinton’s first term, since before I could vote, was the mass announcement, “He’s not my President” by any who oppose those in power.  I heard it with Clinton (who I personally feel is the greatest political personalities since Bobby Kennedy), heard it with Bush and now hear it with Obama. 

Nothing is more sour than this statment.  Who are these people and how dare they?  This elected person is our country’s version of royalty.  They lead us, they represent us in the world.  I did not vote for Pres. Obama, but he is still my President.  I don’t have to agree with him or his decisions but I will still honor his office and title.  I don’t have to choose to re-elect him but until his time is up we are stuck with him.  The very idea of impeachment would take as long as he has left in his term and would cost too much of my tax dollars to even think about spending.

And so with all my disenchantment I have joined the Libertarian Party.  I have also declared to them my candidacy to run in any office available in my zip code.  Hey, if Joe Morello can do it why can’t this pianist?

Saturday was brutal.  At Drake’s for 8am.  I got out at 2pm and ran some errands then home to shower before a gig in Wynnewood.  It was with The Mighty Rhythm Kings and was a private party.  The theme was “West” or “Hoe-Down”.  Not quite sure but there were some big hats.  We played two sets, ending and 8pm, then I had to jump into the car to jet over to Glenside for a gig with Jim Fogarty’s Tonebenders.  That gig was a lot of fun.  Reminded me of playing with Bill Iuso again.  They honored a lot of audience requests (which were interesting considering much of the crowd had drifted in from the Auto Show, specifically the Biker crowd, that was out on Easton Road that day) but approached them with complete originality while staying true to the essence of the original version.  CCR’s “Suzie Q” morfed into John Zorn territory while the “Don’t Fear the Reaper Along the Watchtower” brought odd looks of enjoyment from people who noticed two songs being sang at once.

I passed out at 4am after dinner in bed.

Sunday morning, 2:00pm I awake feeling fully rested.  I need to run into Flourtown.  I have XBox games to trade in, groceries to buy, a new anniversary edition of Brubecks’s “Time Out” to listen to in the car.  Leaving my apartment I notice that to my left (corner of Germantown & Mt. Pleasant) that there was a fire hydrant burst open, squirting a stream high into the cloudy sky.  There was also a slew of “Police Line: Do Not Cross” tape blocking the street.  As I get to my car I see that to the right - in front of my car there was more tape.  I was blocked in.  Being the resourceful young man I am I slid the tape up the poles in front and slowly drove underneath.  I later learn that a certain house (owned by a certain locally infamous someone) had burned down. 

I get into town, get everything done and begin to head back home.  Well they decided to close Bethlehem Pike during the time I was in Flourtown.  Made us turn right onto Gordon.  No left turns at Stenton…  I tried Left at Wissahickon but then no lefts on Germantown Ave (or is it Pike there?  at Brunos) or going straight so I was forced to turn right.  I was going from Flourtown to Mt. Airy by way of Lafayette Hill.  Interesting. 

I try right on Butler only to find it closed going straight or right at Flourtown Road.  By Stenton there was Firemen in saying no rights, straights or U-Turns…  Made me go left.  So, almost in Blue Bell, I make a right on Joshua to Skippack.  Which was eventually closed causing a U-Turn.  I cut across by the Highlands Historical, Sheaff Lane I think, back to Bethlehem Pike.  An hour and a half after I left Genuardi’s parking lot I was back.  And confused. 

By this time the trees at Bethlehem Pike and Gordon Road had been cut down and it was a 10 minute ride home. 

Have to say my whole day was shot though.

1)  The Columbia Legacy Edition of Dave Brubeck’s Time Out album is worth every penny.  I picked it up at Hideaway Music about a week ago and it has provided much entertainment.  Two audio dics and a DVD.  The first, the complete original album that broke Billboard records back in 1959.  Disc two is nine or ten tracks of unreleased live recordings.  Favorites from Time Out plus other great songs like Pennies From Heaven et al.

2)  Sean “Diddy” Combs is on Letterman looking like a moron.  He spent the first half of his interview promoting an anti-malaria group that could be contacted at “double you, double you, double you, dot, malaria, no, more, dot, com, or dot, org, i, can’t, remember”.  He then starts talking about the sleep nets needed to prevent from getting bitten by malaria infected bugs.  Letterman asks three times (THREE TIMES MIND YOU), “Now once you’re infected is there a way to deal with the disease or is that it” (keep in mind this was rephrased twice after…  maybe to make sure he understood the question).  Diddy responds each time that we just need to purchase the nets…. WTF?

- Charles Dickens

To quote a more modern hero, “I pity the fool,” who can honestly say that.  Recently the idea of love has taken on an entirerly new concept.  A month ago Kristen was stricken with the most peculiar of illnesses.  She was in hospital for 20 days beginning June 18th.  I went to see her every single day, save one due to forces beyond my control.

I also found time to focus the pain into an evolution of sorts. 

Thank you to Jason Fifield who provided me with the use of his mini-disc recorder.  I couldn’t sleep so I focused on playing, creating, drinking and living to excess.  I kept flipping pages of the “Real Book” just playing songs I have known for God knows how long.  Then, it happened.  The song was “When I Fall In Love” and as I finished it I realized I was no longer in control.  I was in the passenger seat letting some force propel my fingers to dance in ways they never had.  A reharmonization spontaneously occured.

I then went and listened back on the 10-plus hours I had recorded.  I found a handful of great performances.  Oddly enough these great performances happened with songs that I, personally, did not care for.  But there was something there.  An evolution of my own personal sound.  I have stood by my playing on albums and recordings in the past.  Truby Trio was great.  I sound great.  I know hear that there is a maturity lacking every single performance.  I feel I have evolved and moved up a level in playing.  I hear things that I wouldn’t have done in the past that reflect the pain and dispair and lost feeling I was beginning to know (all too well).

I am proud of all this.  The recording is available for sale.  Let me know if you’d like one.  It’s only $8.  It’s only a half hour of music.  But it is potent for what it’s worth.  It’s something that brings me to another level of musicianship.  And again I am put at a crossroads.  I still cannot comfortably meld jazz and the roots rock/funk i love so much.  Again the balance of my desires is put on the scales.  THis happens every few years.  It’s annoying. 

Bill Evans v. Art Neville.

It is a hard rock to be pressed up against.

Friday night’s gig in Baltimore was a great success.  Maybe 200-250 people came out to SWING DANCE with Melissa Martin and the Mighty Rhythm Kings.  One of the nicer VFW halls I’ve been to.  The only thing they were missing was a bar.  The variety of the people that turned out was the most impressive.  All ages…  From college aged kids (complete with ZOOT SUITS or FLAPPER DRESSES) to the Veterans and their wives the assortment of dancers kicked serious ass.  Every Friday night they have a different band for dancing.

www.fridaynightswing.com is their website.  If you are from Baltimore or will be there over a weekend you should really try to check this “club” out.  They start giving beginner lessons at 7:30pm (so if you have to left feet come early to trade one in) and the band plays from 9pm-midnight.

The past few weeks/months/years have brought such unrest and unease.  Let’s face it: we lost all we knew.  I lost a career that was actually something. She lost posesstions relating to her father, who passed away a decade ago.  We all lost a home.

Relocating to Chestnut Hill was hard.  It was hard having to regress back to working a 9-5pm job.  There is an episode of The Office when Michael Scott has to take a second job as a telemarketer.  He is trying to explain to a telemarketing co-worker that he is the boss the rest of the time.  The co-worker, obviously had moved to the USA from India, pointed out that back home he was a neuro-surgeon.  Michael Scott then concludes that “back home” he would have been the boss of the hospital or something of the like. 

Today brought something different.  Something that lights that small fire within your heart.  The kind of thing that make’s Groucho raise his eyebrows. 

I was at Drake’s.  Carl and I were closing together.  I was emailing a catering client and got side-tracked by a customer.  Carl was finishing the e-mail I had started as I, metaphorically, fed the till.  A gentleman came into the shop.  He was wearing a beaten up (not “tattered” but definately “worn”) baseball cap that said “GOOFY” across the front and “Walt Disney” across the back.  He asked a few questions, I thought nothing of him, as he puttered around.  He inquired about the salmon that was uncooked in the kitchen.  After, incorrectly, saying it was “Pineapple Teriyaki” he rejoiced after my correction that it would eventually be “Maple Pecan” salmon.  He would be back in the half hour it would take for the salmon to be ready.

Upon returning our friend put together a few meals.  One for him and his son, one for his wife and mother-in-law.  Complete gourmet dinners from Drake’s Gourmet Foods: entrees, veggies, starch and a dessert (have you tried the Lemon Bars????). 

I went to ring him up.   He pulls out a credit card (thank God he pulls a credit card… otherwise this story would not exist).

I notice the A Broadbent on the credit card receipt.  The name jingled bells.  My brain pulled up the Bill Evans bio “How My Heart Sings” ( a great book).  I also thought of liner notes of a million albums I love..   Dianne Shuur, Charlie Haden et al…. 

“Excuse me, are you related to the pianist Alan Broadbent?”

“I am the jazz pianist Alan Broadbent.”

“NO WAY!” I exclaim.

After working a few things out I discover that Mr. Broadbent is in town for his mother-in-law and a concert.  Meeting him today has relit a light inside of me.  It can be related to my pre-teen discovery of Elton John and my late-teen discovery of Keith Jarrett.  All three events have reinvigorated my desire to play. 

Alan Broadbent is one of the most easily approachable humans I have ever met.  He is humble while still comanding his own genious.  I gave him one of my cards and maybe he will decide to email me. 

Wow.

I actually had someone try to control a gig.

I was playing with my new trio.  It’s modern jazz at the “hardcore” level.  Much more intense than my last attempt at this genre, Bradford Truby Trio, back in New Orleans.  (No disrespect intended.  Truby Trio was the schizzette.  This is just different.  I’m older and darker in style than I once was.)

We played first set.  Then some people showed up who were linked to a record label (including talent scout).  I had planned it perfectly.  The scout was interested in original material.  We played a bit and then, as I began the introduction to the third song of the set, my arm was shaken.  I turn and am greeted with:

“What is wrong with you three?  Did you not think I was serious?  There is a dance floor for a reason.  I will pull the plug if I hear one more ‘art house jazz’ song.”

As I watch the talent scout observe this the drummer says to me, “Did  you just get reamed out?”

1) I counted 37 ment in the bar and 4 women.

2) 2 of those women came to see the drummer.

3) If you were 2 women would you want to “dance” with 37 men?

4) I got more email addresses than I have ever gotten in one night.  Also: [Jason] sold more CDs than normal.  If people didn’t enjoy us, or would’ve rather we were danceable, it would be made obvious to us.

BOTTOM LINE:  I have been doing the music thing much much longer than you have been doing the “club owner” thing (if you can call it that).  Where the hell do you get off?  Who the fuck are you to even try to control what I play?