[Penn] Jillette likens the improvising done by the comedians [in The Aristocrats] to improvising jazz music. "There's really not much of a difference between Gilbert Gottfried and Coltrane in terms of what goes on in their heads," he said.

Coltrane would be so proud.

Originally written 11/14/2003.I managed to get a ticket last weekend to see Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette, and Gary Peacock (the "Trio at 20") as the closing headliners of the SF JazzFest; I've never seen the group live before, so I don't know what the standard etiquette is, but I was surprised when His Keithness began speaking after the band had been introduced (since he has a reputation as something of a "difficult" performer). "Twenty years," he said, "is not really enough." He spoke haltingly, in choppy phrases that suggested this wasn't something he'd prepared; he closed his remarks by saying (and this is only my best recollection), "I feel like we should thank... I don’t know, whoever we need to thank, certainly not us. We sometimes sit backstage and think, 'What is it exactly, that we do?' People come to hear us, I guess, and we show up on the stage, and... something happens."Something then proceeded to happen for the next few hours—based on the large swaths of time I've devoted to listening to the Trio’s recordings over the years, I would say they had a hell of a night. The second set was especially good, opening with the rarely-played "Golden Earring" (not the rock band), a fast and rollicking version of "All the Things..." (with a long sheets-of-sound-y solo intro from Keith), and a re-creation of the funky rendition of "God Bless the Child" as heard on their very first studio recording twenty years ago. The crowd was relentlessly appreciative, and wouldn't leave until they were placated with two encores (a muted "When I Fall in Love" and a wild, quick version of "When Will the Blues Leave?", complete with frightening fills from Jack played on those little bowls attached to his cymbals). It made me think, "Oh yeah... this was why I got into this business."

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.

This is a website where I'll be announcing any performances I have coming up, as well as posting occasional music-related thoughts, reviews and reminiscences, and hopefully MP3s as they become available. Thanks for visiting.