All That Jazz

 

All That Jazz

In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril,  Amlodopine,  Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Just the Way You Are: Cleo Laine

One hundred years ago, give or take, we were gifted two seats to a Cleo Laine concert.  She, and her husband John Dankworth, were playing Ontario Place, on Toronto's lakefront.  The concert that evening was set "in the round", on a rotating stage, so that all the patrons might get a better view, in a more intimate surround.

The tickets were provided by my friend, Tom, who just happened to hold a high profile job there, at that time, managing the concert series.  So he had lots of interaction with some terrific artists, and as luck would have it, had dibs on any concert tickets in which he had an interest.

Tom was, like me, a music junky.  He loved most genres.  But he did not love jazz.  Truth be told, I did not like jazz either.  But I loved Cleo Laine.  She had a singular voice, distinctive and nuanced.  Her husband led their small group and played clarinet.  He also acted as their business manager.  Tom knew that I would appreciate seeing her, and was kind enough to grab us the seats.

On the evening of the concert, my Child Bride and I wined and dined at a local restaurant,  pre-show, and walked over to catch the concert.  On arrival, we were ushered onto the circular stage , and given front row seats.  Posh was what it was.  The snooty seats.  Gratis.  We were really going to see and hear Cleo.  We were steps away. Up close and personal.  

 I could not contain my grin.  I was feeling pretty cool.  And I know that Kat must have been impressed.  We were sharing the stage with Toronto's  "who's who", and my friend Cleo.  At least that is what I thought we would be, after a few hours together, in this intimate setting.  I did not take into account the two thousand people who would only see the back of our heads.  We would pay no attention to them.  It would be Cleo, Kath and me.  Oh yes - and John, too.

The concert was wonderful.  Her playlist was mostly old standards - music I loved.  And she was beautiful.  Big curly, shiny hair.  Fancy, sparkly, sexy cocktail dress.  Mile high heels.  Beautiful puffy crimson lips and a smile that would raise Lazarus.  It was a night to remember.  It was the time I went around with Cleo Laine.  1977.  In the fall of the year. (If memory serves)

And she sang jazz.  Jazz.  And I had always said that I did not like jazz.  But her jazz was constructed.  She knew the words.  And the melodies all held together.

I tease my Little Girl (Kristin) when she declares she doesn't like country music.  It is not that she does not like the genre, it is that she simply does not like some songs.  She even spent time with me, educating me on rap, showing me the lyrics, and providing the back story.  I still am not a fan.  But I kind of "get it".  We can learn to appreciate if we listen.

But jazz.  What about jazz?  I have over time, come to some kind of hypothesis.  Is there a relationship connection between your behavior and the music you like?  Does your musical preference define you?

I enjoy structured jazz.  I need to be able to hum a tune, after I hear it.  I have come to understand that I do not appreciate jazz in free form.  I know it is loved by many, but I need organization.  I need a beginning and an end.  I require a melody and a pattern.  I want the musicians to know what tune they are playing. And to stick with the plan.  Do not take a side trip to Neverland in the middle of the song.  I become lost and drift away, not knowing what I heard and not singing a song or humming a tune as I leave.

So, I know some of you will now consider me a simpleton, uneducated in music and lacking in the ability to comprehend and appreciate one of the great American music styles.  One of the great unwashed.  Including rap, I am 0 for 2 in these categories.  Not proud of it, but it is where I am.  Not a part of the avant guard society.  Way too earthy in my ways.  A plebian.  

But I cannot leave you there.  What I have realized about music is that it is extremely personal and, in my case, it reflects who I am.  In my life, I need order.  I don't think that I am OCD, but I like everything in its place.  Our glassware and condiments should not be randomly rearranged.  I don't want surprises when I open the fridge or a cupboard.  Stay with the program.  A place for everything and everything in its place.  I've heard that before, I think.  I am a little careless with that idea, but I do not, at all, think that I should take our glasses out of the cupboard and set them randomly around the house.  Who would appreciate that?  People who like progressive jazz, that's who. ( Another joke, OK?)

I have come to understand that music that I like is reflective of who I am, or where I am at some point in life.  That is my thesis.  At least a first pass at it.  What I obviously do not know, is whether those who are fans of unstructured jazz, find some relationship with their real life - perhaps at odds with my comfort areas.  If you like free jazz and scat, are you less rigid in your routines?  I would love to hear from you.

By the way, I bare no grudge against those of you whose taste in music differs from mine.  There is music aplenty for us all.  Music lifts us and saddens us.  It can make us dance and sing, and it has the power to pull tears from our eyes.  It is a gift.  It takes us to a place and a time and to love.  The song does remember when, just as the song says.  (The Song Remembers When).

Jazz and rap?  Not so much.

As a weird aside to this story.  Tom's boss at that time, had his job through a political appointment.  I won't mention names, but he was active in the party and had been for some years.  He was later found to have embezzled funds while he ran Ontario Place.  He overpaid the artists, using taxpayer money, and slipped the difference into a shell company, which was thought to be a subsidiary talent agency.  

He went to jail for a few years, but never lost his friends or his sense of humor.  He was caught and convicted because he declared this sheltered income on his taxes.  He was an honest thief.  Go figure.  When he was released,  his buddies threw a party and presented him with a set of cufflinks made from the brass buttons off a jail guard's jacket. 

Who needs fiction when real life has so much to offer.

The Teacher has completed her first week of school and, with the exception of some side effects from her disease, she is managing well.  She loves her class and finds good in everything and everyone she touches. 

 Her school has continued to be virtually corona virus free.  It is almost laughable, as she regales me with stories of her students chewing on their masks or sneezing in them.  And some just have had theirs on for too long, and they simply pull them off.  They have had enough.  And then, after a breather, they revert to their "new normal", and life continues.  Her kiddies love their teacher and they love each other.  The socialization cannot be replicated on Zoom.

With regard to my health, at least for the time being, I am basically cancer-free.  I know we have some issues, but I have decided to shelter in place.  At least for a month or two.  My body needs a break.  And my mind requires some peace.

Kat and I are waiting for our vaccines to be delivered to our development, where everyone over 65 who resides here will be vaccinated.  Even renters.  I think the idea of bringing the drug to the club is a much more efficient way of delivery than asking each and every one of us to make an appointment and drive to an outside location.  Some of our aging residents are not able to drive, and others are simply not good drivers.  This is the better solution.  We await information on the timetable of our allocation.  

In the meantime, we remain content with life and grateful for the gifts of friendship and family.

Several of you have phoned and others have written the most lovely notes after my last blog, and I cannot thank you enough.  We are blessed to have you in our lives.  You make our trip worthwhile.

Our weekend was crammed with football, and tonight will be the highlight.  Out beloved Tide will play their last game of the year.  And we will be engulfed in the action.

We have played great music this year.  We completed a full schedule, as it was laid out.  A symphony.

The other team was not going to be involved at all, due to the virus problem.  Then they were supposed to play six games to make their conference eligible.  Then they believed five would be fine.  Rules be damned.  They needed to conserve their energy and keep their players healthy.

This, my friends, is jazz in football.

I do joke.  Forgive me.  I wish for a good game, free from injuries.  It should be a fun night for the two best teams in the country.  And for all of us fans.  And as we should, we will congratulate the winner and move on.  There is always a next year, and a year after that.  

And all that jazz........  I love you just the way you are.  Thank you, Cleo.

And Roll Tide

jrobinmullen@gmail.com