Remembrances: Elvin Jones

Originally written 5/19/2004.

Elvin Jones has died.

I'm grateful that I did get a chance to hear him once. I had just arrived in New York, and a friend of my dad's decided to take me out to a real Big City Jazz Club—in this case, the Metropolitan (now Blue Water Grill), which happened to be in the basement of the building that housed my overpriced 8-man dorm apartment at the corner of W 16th and Union Square West. I was appropriately stoked when I learned that I'd be seeing and hearing the engine behind A Love Supreme and Speak No Evil, 8 stories below the room I (barely) slept in.

The group was pretty good, it was Cecil McBee, Delfeayo "the Non-Famous" Marsalis, Greg Tardy, and some pianist whose name I don't recall. The only tune I remember is "Misterioso." But Elvin was phenomenal, despite the intrusive TV crew that was filming the entire show.

After the set was over, I was finishing my Shirley Temple or whatever, when I suddenly sensed a commotion behind me and heard, "Hey there! Yeah!" I turned around, and there stood the master himself, in his bathrobe and looking like he'd just stepped out of the sauna. He came right over to our table and shook everyone's hand ebulliently, then moved on to work the rest of the crowd. Maybe he felt disconnected from the audience during the performance due to the film crew and wanted to literally reach out and touch us, or maybe he did that at every show. In any case, I contemplated not washing my hand, ever again.

Eventually I did, because, you know, drummers are kind of dirty.