squeaks

I went to a jam session the other night. Not to play, just to say hi to a drummer friend of mine. OK, I don't get it. I just don't get it at all. The leader would call a tune, then count it in - at breakneck tempo. The head was barely recognizable. Then the guys would take turns soloing. Their technique was fine. But man, it was all speed and no ideas! The guitarist sounded like he was playing some random scales...the sax player was squeaking and squaking and honking and screeching. The trumpet player...I don't know how to describe it. I don't know much about trumpet playing but I know that most trumpet players compete in reaching for very high notes. This dude obviously had his technique down because he could play those piercing high notes. But it wasn't music!! It was all like wounded elephant grunts and coyote barks and seagull screams, notes running up and down, chasing each other like some derranged dogs chasing their tails. Then the solos were done, the band would run through the unrecognizable head again and on to the next tune, same as the first. I will say this: the rhythm section was very solid. My friend is a superb drummer and the bass player was very good, too.

Now, before I get flamed for this let me say again: I am not calling into question that these dudes could play. What I am saying is that the result was unpleasant and unmusical. I firmly believe in the validity of the old Eddie Condon dictum: "As it enters the ear, does it come in like broken glass or does it come in like honey?" This stuff was definitely broken glass!

In the car, on my way home, I listened to the smoothest, most polished, most profound vocal version of "Round Midnight", sung by Ann Hampton Callaway - with a divine trumpet solo by Wynton Marsalis and it entered my ear like honey and stayed in my soul, soft and soothing like satin.