am rather unqualified to write about jazz. but i do know of: dixieland, be-bop, and Miles Davis. i know back in the 1920’s & 30’s it was considered “wild and dirty music” played by black folks (ahem-- later rock n' roll would be considered this, and rap, and..), and jazz was frequently the backdrop to many a southern brothel. i have minimal education and vocabulary in this vast and complex genre, but i grew up next to new york city, one of jazz’ main hubs.
i didn’t like jazz until i started listening to Phish (yes, they are jazz-based), and then i became hooked on WBGO-FM out of newark, NJ-- they must have one of the most extensive jazz libraries in the history of radio. countless mornings WBGO woke me up through my clock-radio, and countless evenings i would drive through the streets of new york city, either on my way home or on the road to nowhere, with sizzling rhythm and off-color notes flying out of my car windows. i listened to WBGO like religion for several years, and i don’t think i ever heard the same recording twice. Lester Young, Dexter Gordon, Coleman Hawkins, Ella, Louis, Billy, the Duke.. and the list goes on..
jazz has a lot to do with time and place, in my opinion.. and freedom of expression.. inextricably linked to the people who created it. so many of those recordings played on WBGO late night were live recordings from New York City clubs. beneath the soulful brass notes and the brushes on the snares you could practically hear the sweat dripping off people’s brows, the rustle of sleeves, the air not moving. i have listened to Charlie Parker (“the bird”) during vermont winters while boiling countless cups of tea, and i’ve listened to John Coltrane in the sultry heat of a jersey city brownstone, overlooking the southern tip of manhattan. i know the value of a new york subway saxophone solo echoing down the lonely dirty tracks. my brain connects particular jazz artists with times and places, in a romantic, nostalgic way-- hence my delight to walk into a literally underground club in Austin in 2009 to hear the Ephraim Owens Quintet.
now, it is always hot as sin in Austin in the summer, but even Austin-born folks told me this was the hottest summer they ever lived. after pounding the pavement through the air that hung like a hot wet washcloth, i slipped downstairs into a joyful paradox-- it was like walking into one of those of WBGO recordings, minus the heat i used to hear. this scene was chill, the room was cool, drinks were iced, and the music was fine. for lack of words to describe, this quintet was loungy, with delicate, excellent solos from each of the players (if my brain remembers correctly: trumpet, sax, keys, upright, and kit).
Ephraim Owens is a jazz bandleader, composer, trumpeter-- and improviser across genres. he plays in several bands (most notable to me: Blaze-- hot shit..) if not solo, and has performed/recorded with a gamut of musicians, from the likes of Eryka Badu to Reckless Kelly to String Cheese Incident to Wayne Hancock to the Dirty Dozen Brass Band. the Austin Chronicle ranks Owens as ‘Best Horn’ in Austin.. and they might be right. jazz is one of the slipperiest categories of music to define, and Owens is a living legend of this sometimes overlooked genre. thanks to my WBGO brainwashing, i have this notion that some jazz ensembles are more the pure form than others. with all due respect to southern culture, i was damn psyched to walk into this particular face of Owens: a little slice of the big apple.
No comments:
Post a Comment