Today’s blog
Lynn Murphy Mark
All jazzed up
At first I decided not to go out again since I had been at work longer than usual, and Mollie was an extra dose of lonely. When she gets that way she follows me everywhere, bathroom included, and stays as close as she can without being on the toilet with me. (That’s probably TMI.) I thought I was ok with my decision until I remembered how much I had enjoyed past encounters with the Route 66 Jazz Orchestra.
We’ve developed quite a relationship. My church, First Unity Church of Saint Louis, has become their main venue and rehearsal location. Usually the house is packed with people who love jazz and love this band in particular. One of the men who is our a/v guru at church plays the trombone in the group. All of us at church love Jeremiah for what he does on Sundays, so some in the audience are simply Jeremiah fans. He is one of those people who magically appears when things need to get done. He gives unselfishly of his time to First Unity.
There are 20-something men who perform. The first row is for the saxophone players and right behind them are the trombone guys. Behind them is the trumpet section. On stage right is their drummer next to the huge bass instrument, the guitar men and the piano player. Our platform size that looks so big on Sunday mornings accommodates all the men without an inch to spare. I don’t know how the trombone slides don’t poke the saxophone guys in front of them.
I know practically nothing about jazz, except to know that its origins were in New Orleans in the 1800’s. An article in The Jazz Observer starts with a bit about Congo Square, where slaves would gather and a mix of African and Caribbean musical styles was born. The 1920’s were a time when jazz rose to fame, incorporating “church hymns, slave songs, field chants, and Cuban style rhythm. Jazz originated in New Orleans, primarily as it served as a melting pot for the music that ultimately led to the jazz genre.”
My first exposure to New Orleans Jazz was an opportunity to go to Preservation Hall in the French Quarter. I waited outside in line until my turn to enter came. The term “hall” is misleading because the space is small. The audience sits on crude benches to hear local jazz greats. I’m listening to them as I write this. It is impossible to sit still while surrounded by such rhythm. From Preservation Hall.com: “Preservation Hall was a rare space in the South where racially integrated bands and audiences shared music together during the Jim Crow era. At the center of that family business, the Jaffe’s [the owners] became involved in the southern Civil Rights Movement (and were apprehended by police on several occasions) as heads of an integrated venue in a time of cruelly policed racial segregation.”
Preservation Hall jazz sounds different than what I heard last night. As jazz gained in popularity different styles arose. Now there are approximately 40 “subgenres” of this rich music. Early jazz sounds like ragtime and Dixieland music combined and that’s what I hear from the small venue on St. Peter street. Last night’s jazz belongs to the Modern Jazz style, I think. There’s a whole vocabulary that applies to jazz: Swing, Bebop, Hard Bop, Cool Jazz, Smooth Jazz, Jazz Fusion, Avant-garde Jazz, and many more words.
Last night’s concert featured solo’s by a saxophone man, trumpet guys, the bass fiddle player, the piano player. The one that had me was at least a five minute solo by the drummer. Honestly, his hands were moving so fast that they were a blurr. He used every piece of his kit – drums and cymbals and rims. He got a standing ovation for his efforts. I was mesmerized.
Once again the music world enriched my evening. I’m glad I got over my introverted self and decided to venture forth for such a cool performance!