Sunday, June 24, 2007

What a friggin day


Weatherwise, I swear this was the screwiest day I have seen in ages.

I watched the forecasts all week long, torturing myself about the prospects for a decent day for our gig at Victory Square. The forecast varied day by day, station by station. As with any typical Vancouver day with unsettled weather, there was no predicting exactly what would happen.

It soon became apparent that there was no getting out of the forecast of rain for Sunday. I decided on a course of action. It could rain like hell in the morning, then clear up by noontime. Everyone would be happy. That was the best plan I could muster.

Saturday night we played a private function, not one of our best outings. I was beat when I got home. My daughter had one of those nights where she crawled into our bed in the middle of the night, meaning nobody got a decent night's sleep. I had two separate dreams about playing a jazz festival gig with guys I used play with 30 years ago, having arguments with the piano players onstage, the dreams ending with them walking off midset. Not a restful night at all and morning came way too soon.

The rain was coming down so hard around 7:00am that it woke me up. Not to worry - it cleared up by noon. My evil master plan was working to perfection.

Throughout the morning, I had a slight melancholy feeling, partially due to lack of sleep, but also thinking about Banff. The Maria Schneider concert would have been last night, and by this time, everyone would be leaving, going back to the real world. The magic would be over for another year, all too soon.

From my practice room window, I can look out the window over Georgia Strait almost all the way down to Victoria. At noon, the blue sky was starting to come out overhead, but I didn't want to acknowledge the black cloud blowing up the Strait from the southwest. At 1:00, we had to do some shopping in Richmond and when we left the store, it was pissing again. By the time we got back home, a 5-minute drive, it was nice again, with the sun peeking out.

I called Coat as soon as he got offstage from his Coat Cooke Trio gig, to see how it was at Victory Square. He said the rain had come out partway through his set, but about a third of the people stuck it out. They all split as soon as the music was over, but came back for the next act.

I spent the next hour getting ready for the gig, ignoring the next black cloud racing up the Strait. At 4:00, there was no ignoring it.

The cloud was huge and directly overhead when I heard the first crack of lightning. fuck

Then the hail started. About the size of peas, the ground in our neighbourhood was suddenly entirely white. double fuck

Then the deluge began, and there was a small river running down our street. fuckety fuck fuck

I figured the gig was toast. The rain was was so intense, I thought there would be no way anyone would stay in Gastown. But I had to go down, at least to show my face and justify getting paid. My mood was about as black as the cloud lingering overhead. There was no promise of a break, looking out to the southwest.

We all piled into the car, my family being game enough to tag along, rain still coming down in buckets. Partway downtown, Cassandra spotted a break in the clouds off to the west. As we crossed the Cambie St. bridge, the rain started easing up. A couple more minutes to Victory Square, and it was tolerable. It was a dramatic change over the course of the 20 minutes it took to get from home to the gig.

As we started our set, it was down to a very light drizzle, and then the sun came out bit by bit. It was a very neat effect, being inside the tent, seeing the rain backlit by the emerging sunlight. Then suddenly, we needed sunglasses. The warmth from the change in weather was most welcome as my horns were very cold starting off, which made them a bit finicky as far as the tuning.

The set itself was one of our best ever, and even Leaf, which has been so problematic for us, sounded great. A sizeable audience somehow materialized, and were very enthusiastic. Wanda was on top of her game and did a great job entertaining the crowd. Our pianist, the estimable Mr. Crisp It, played his ass off, what ass he has left. Mark was solid on bass, and we've really been spoiled to have had Tom on drums as often as we have in the last month. We really didn't want to stop at the appointed time, but we were given the sign and that was that.

The picture here belies all of the meterological drama of the preceeding hours. In the end, it was all well worth it. What a friggin day.

Thursday, June 21, 2007

On the Eve

With the jazz festival about to get underway, I have a unusual sense of ambivalence. Yes, I am really stoked about my Gastown gig on Sunday, 6:00pm at Victory Square with The Wanda Nowicki Group, if you must know. Fresh off our time in the studio, the band has never sounded better.

But nonetheless, I am not as excited about the rest of the Festival as I usually get. There are not any must-see shows on my list this time round. Maybe I should catch Sonny Rollins, but last time he was here at The Commodore, it was was a very disappointing gig for me, and though the circumstances now are very different, I just can't bring myself to pony up for him.

I usually have a ritual of going through the program with a pen and a highlighter and marking down everything that I want to see, a lot of out of town acts, but also a lot of the local acts. I really believe that it is important to come and support my fellow musicians when their talents are being showcased. Often it's proof (as if anyone really needs it) that we have world-class talent right here.

Although the list is very long, two examples immediately spring to mind. The first was seeing the Brad Turner Quartet open for Patricia Barber at The Centre. Their sound quality was absolutely exquisite, just like the music - I felt like I was sitting inside Dylan's kit, and I mean that in a good way. Then Patricia Barber had her own sound guy take over, and the sound turned to mush. (The folks at Rocky Mountain should be commended for the job they do year after year.) The other example was with the London Composer's Orchestra at the Cultch, the vanguard of London's improvising scene. It came time for Peggy Lee do her thing, and the guys just stopped and gawked. Not that Peggy was trying to prove anything. It was simply a deeply musical moment.

Every year, there are dozens of examples of how great the scene is here in Vancouver. I get a charge seeing my friends and acquaintances doing so well. And I know that there could be at least twice as many examples of it, if the festival was able to accomodate all of the great players in town.

And no, this is not a whine about me not getting more gigs this year. I am always thankful for what I get, if I do get any. I don't base my entire self worth on what I get or don't get.

Rather, I think that this year, I just have other priorities. The cd project with Wanda is in its final stages and it needs attention to move it to completion. Ditto for ion Zoo. I am very pleased with my playing on Wanda's cd, and I've always been critical of my jazz playing. The ion Zoo disc shows my other side, and I typically I am much more satisfied with my free playing.

I'm not connected in any way to VCMI this year, so that may also be a factor. I sponsored VCMI nights for the last two years at 1067, sort of an intro night for the participants to get together and hang on the night before the program starts. 1067 was booked up very early this year - I'm hopeful it will be the after-hours hang for the improv crowd during the festival.

But the main thing that's eating at me is a promise to myself that I broke.

I started this blog a year ago in May, when I attended the Hugh Fraser Jazz Orchestra Workshop in Banff. It has always been a memoir of my creative process. Originally meant just to run two weeks, I was encouraged to keep on blogging, which I have enjoyed.

The four HFJO workshops that I've attended have deeply changed and influenced my life as any steady reader would already know, and none more than the first one. I am still incorporating the lessons that I learned from Hugh and Maria Schneider. Having the rare opportunity to play her music and work with her changed everything for me. I have always vowed to do whatever it takes to be there again if she came back to Banff.

Chucho Valdez was originally scheduled to be the guest artist this year, but after the application deadline, word got out that Maria would be back. At Hugh's invitation, I had been planning to drive up to Banff to watch the proceedings and hang with Chucho and the orchestra for a day or two. No problem, I would do the same with Maria, and have the chance to thank her in person for being such a catalyst in my life. Then things got busy, the cd projects took longer than expected, and family and financial priorities gave me a reality check. There would be no drive to Banff this year.

Two weeks ago, Eli Bennett wrote me to ask what to expect up there. I've been a big fan of this young player and would have loved to have had the chance to spend some time up there with him. Then I started thinking about the people who return each year for the workshop, some who have become good friends of mine, some who have become musical collaborators. The opportunities missed. Just to see Maria lead the orchestra with her glorious music...

Instead, I've just been playing her cds all the time and moping a bit. I've had a fantasy about playing pandeiro with the orchestra while they performed her Choro Dancadao. She was the person who turned me on to this marvellous instrument.

I guess that dream will just have to wait.