To Newport and Beyond

 

My grandmother gave me two Brubeck albums when I was a teenager. One of them was recorded at the Newport Jazz Festival. Dave used the occasion to introduce two new tunes to the public, both of which he had recently recorded as solo piano pieces. "In Your Own Sweet Way" is a ballad dedicated to his wife Iola. I learned that tune, and had the thrill of playing it with the composer at his home in Connecticut.

The other was "Two Part Contention," a nod to J.S. Bach, who was Dave's favorite composer. My piano teacher had assigned me a couple of Bach's "two part inventions." They were difficult. My brain had to split in two directions. Yet when I heard Brubeck do it, it sounded like fun. He and Paul Desmond were inventing melodies on the fly. I was enchanted - and have never lost the sense of elation. Or was it euphoria? Or ecstasy? Who knew that you could get high simply by playing music? 

We enjoyed a day trip to Newport, not far from the place where we were staying. What a gracious, beautiful town! There are a number of nice houses that might make good writing shacks in the future. Of course, we circled around to Fort Adams Park, where the annual Newport Jazz Festival will take place after a Covid-19 hiatus. The dates don't square up with my schedule, but I hope to attend some time. The stage faces a bay full of sailboats and yachts. What a view!

The best gift of Newport was dining with our friend Mary Ann, who moved there a few years ago. It was a long dinner, filled with laughter and great affection. A couple of hours into the meal, two of her grown daughters suddenly appeared at the side of the table. "It's 8:00. Do you know where your mother is?" We roared with laughter.

On our way back to Pennsylvania, we met one of my college students for lunch. He recommended a beer and burger joint near his home in Connecticut. Of course - he's a college student. 

Adam is a guy to watch. A wonderful saxophonist, he is also a natural leader. He created the first jazz club on the campus of his university. It is a student chapter of the Jazz Education Network. He aspires to create a jazz festival for the university, which means he will negotiate campus politics and chase after funding. It hasn't slowed him down one bit. Adam has a can-do attitude, and he's a joy to be around. 

Some of the readers of this blog have encouraged me to enjoy this sabbatical and not fill it with productivity. OK, check. I'm on it. Regarding the book, I'm glad to report that nine chapters (of fifteen) are done. There is a squad of readers (theologians, musicians, and normal people) offering  feedback as I send them my work. I'm ready to employ a talented copy editor to polish the paragraphs and find the missing verbs. Soon I will negotiate with another professional who can help with a manuscript proposal and lead me through the publication process.

As for having fun, well, I'm sufficiently self-indulgent to have no problem with that. Last Sunday, we enjoyed an outstanding concert by the Gerry Mulligan Tribute Band, led by our compatriot Ron Vincent (who recommended last week's chili dogs). The band is incredible: Scott Robinson on sax, Marvin Stamm on flugelhorn, Dean Johnson on bass, the incomparable Bill Mays on piano, with Ron playing the drums with a great big smile. 

It was Bill Mays who once quipped, "There are three signs of a good gig. Is the music happening? Is the bread green? Is the hang happening? Two out of three is a good gig." The "hang," for the uninformed, is the hang out, the collegial fellowship of musical souls after a concert concludes. In this case, the hang happened at a swanky restaurant where the food was delicious, the beverages were flowing, and the conversation was spirited. We returned home about 11 pm . . . after a 4 pm concert. 

Yes, the hang was happening. That was the theme of the week.