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NFL, are you ready for greatness?

Posted by keithosaunders on February 10, 2011

Another Super Bowl is history and we now stagger into the dark period of the sports year when there is nothing to watch but meaningless regular season NBA and NHL games until the opening day of the baseball season comes to the rescue.  This year the doldrums will be a few days shorter owing to MLB having moved their opening day three days earlier than usual to March 31st. 

But I digress.  It was a good, not a great game.  The Packers dominated the first half until Pittsburgh obliged us by putting up a good fight in the second half only to fall short.  Boo hoo — they have enough championships.

What I really want to talk about is the halftime show, which was an abomination.  If the Black Eyed Peas is the best that the NFL can offer then maybe they ought to throw in the towel and go back to using Up With People.  I appreciate that the NFL is making an effort to appeal to a younger demographic, but for gods sake, don’t do it with mediocrity!  Better to trot out old leviathans such as The Who or The Stones.  At least they could rock at one point. (albeit a point that is now decades in the rear view mirror) 

Sending the Black Eyed Peas out to do a halftime show is like asking Pee Wee Herman to play Hamlet.  It’s not in their skill-set.  Fergie?!  Give me a break.  She sounds like my grandma on acid.  What’s more, the one song they do that I would have cared to hear  — My Humps – wasn’t suitable for Middle America.  That’s the song with these catchy lyrics:

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps 

Cole Porter couldn’t have said it better.

Fortunately for the NFL, I am here to solve their halftime problem.  Commishioner Goodell, if you want to hire an A-one class act that is professional, supremely talented, and under-the-radar, do yourself a favor and run, do not walk, to hire Cedar Walton.  There isn’t a better jazz pianist out there.  He’ll sound great, he’ll look marvellous, and best of all he will not embarrass you!  

Not only does Cedar bring excellence to the table, but he will imbue the halftime show with the dignity deserving of such event.  Us middle-aged jazzers will be thrilled to finally see our hero get his due, and the oldtimers will be happy not to have to fiddle with their hearing aids.  The youngsters will also be happy as long as you play up the fact that jazz is the most hated music of all time.  To them, seeing Cedar on the stage will be an enormous ‘fuck you’ to the yuppies that are pining to see the milquetoast bands of their youth. Not seeing Foreigner, Aerosmith, or Madonna on the stage will be worth putting up with ten minutes of hellaciously swinging hardbop.

Furthermore, I guarantee you that Cedar’s price tag will be hundreds of thousands less than The Police would have been.  It’s a win-win situation.  And just think how good those special effects will look to the sounds of Bolivia!   
    

Cedar Walton

Posted in football, jazz | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments »

Group

Posted by keithosaunders on January 19, 2011

Here is a track from my trio CD, Lost In Queens.  I am very proud of date and think it is a good representation of my trio, which consists two of my all-time favorite musicians — Bim Strasberg on bass and Taro Okamoto on drums.

The Group

The CD is available here.

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Shut up already!

Posted by keithosaunders on January 4, 2011

There ought to be a statute of limitations on how long a jazz vocal track can last.  I was listening to a New York jazz station, and they played a track, which at the time sounded like it had African lyrics, but in fact turned out to be a made-up language. 

 OK, I give the artist points for innovation.  He, she, or they (it was a chorus of singers)  came up with something a little unusual and Pandora-ish — that is to say the fictitious world of Pandora from the filmAvatar,  rather than the internet radio site of the same name —  and at least for the first three minutes it was engaging.

The  song, a medium swing tune with the faux-African jibberish, was not the worst melody you had ever heard, but there was nothing, save from the language, that was particularly interesting about it.  About six minutes in I turned to my friend, who was driving us home from lunch, and said, “Is this ever going to end?”   My friend was wondering if Charles Dickens had written for singers.  The song was like a mini-series.   I was wondering if perhaps the DJ had to go to the bathroom and needed a track to eat up a large swath of time.

Folks, when you’re dealing with singers you have to get in and out of the song.  No extended choruses please!  A little brevity can go a long way. 

Finally the song ended and it was followed up, mercifully, by a Frank Wess recording.  Frank is 89 years old today and could not, even if he wanted to, play a solo that is too long!

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Three-ring records

Posted by keithosaunders on December 28, 2010

Younger readers of this blog have not had the experience of playing a record so many times that the cover develops concentric indented circles.  My favorite records had three-rings, which was a sign of dozens, if not hundreds of playings.

Today while listening to my Pandora station, McCoy Tyner’s Four by Five came on.  Hearing it reminded me that the album that it comes from, The Real McCoy, is one of my favorite records of all time.  Recorded in April of 1967, it was McCoy’s first album for the Blue Note label — he had recorded several as a leader for Impulse — and it featured Joe Henderson on tenor, Ron Carter on bass, and the great drummer, Elvin Jones.

Henderson is simply amazing.  His time is impeccable and he effortlessly glides over the changes while meshing perfectly with the explosive rhythm section.  The album contains five striking originals by Tyner and is one of the great records of the post-Coltrane era. 

Listening to Henderson play on the Tyner composition got me thinking about the first Joe Henderson record I ever heard, Inner Urge.  The personnel is nearly identical to that of The Real McCoy; only the bass player, Bob Cranshaw, is different.  I had borrowed the record from my cousin and I was fairly sceptical as to whether I would like Henderson’s playing.  At that time, still in my late teens, I was certain that Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, Dexter Gordon, and Hank Mobley had said all there was to say on the tenor.  By the second jaw-dropping chorus of Inner Urge I realized how wrong I was. 

This record was probably responsible for opening my ears to more music than any other.  Not only was I hearing Henderson for the first time, but (incredibly) McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones as well. 

I had no idea…

Once I accepted and embraced the fact that there was great music created after the be-bop era it opened up an entire new world for me.  Inner Urge was my gateway drug.  I had listened to Coltrane before, but now I felt brave enough to venture into the classic quartet material.  It would take me five or six more years to get to his later works, but I had enough to chew on for the time being. 

I also began listening to Wayne Shorter’s records as a leader, as well as his work with the Miles Davis quintet of the early to mid-60s.  Wayne is an acquired taste.  He’s like the oyster of jazz — you rarely like him the first time.  Once I got used to his thinner tone and his quirky time feeling, which is not so much in the pocket, but floating in and around the beat, he became one of my favorites.  Not to mention the fact that he is a masterful composer.  The three-ring record I own of Wayne’s is a 1964 work entitled JuJu. 

 I suppose it is no coincidence that all three of these dates featured Tyner and Jones.  They had such an empathy for each other that to my ears there is no finer rhythm section.  They are in complete agreement as to where the quarter note is and they compliment each other — McCoys pounding left hand fifths and Elvin’s fiery polyrhythms.  For this reason I have always felt a greater connection to the Coltrane quarter of the 60s over Miles more ethereal (but no less brilliant) quintet of the same era. 

I don’t know what the digital equivalent of a three-ring album is.  I suppose we have the ability to star our ipod tracks, but that idea never appealed to me.  I’m not ready for the American Idolization of my record collection.

Posted in jazz | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Remembering Donte’s

Posted by keithosaunders on December 12, 2010

I began learning jazz improvisation when I was 15, studying under a vibes player named Charlie Shoemake.  I had studied classical piano since the age of 7 and although I had accomplished quite a bit in that span of time, I had become frustrated and disenchanted with my playing.  In fact, I had stopped practicing. 

When I began learning jazz it felt like a great weight had been lifted.  Technically it seemed less demanding than classical music.  Aside from a little trouble reading the syncopated rhythms, I found it to be much easier than Bartok and Bach.  Later on, when I realized that I had to get my ideas across at breakneck tempos with drum and bass accompaniment, I would find it much more challenging.

After I had been studying for a year Charlie suggested that I hear some live music.  There was a club not far from where I lived called Donte’s which was a long-standing San Fernando Valley hot spot located in North Hollywood, about five miles from where I grew up in Van Nuys.  Underaged people such as myself could attend Donte’s owing to the fact that they served food which removed it from having a “bar” status. 

One spring night my dad drove my friend Daryl (a sax player) and I to Donte’s to hear my teacher’s band.  Many great Los Angeles musicians played there, as well as east coast cats passing through on tour. I was lucky to catch the last quarter of its 23 year existence before it finally closed in the late ’80s.  I saw Cedar Walton play there with teh saxophonist Bob Berg.  I saw the Harold Land and Blue Mitchell group, Bobby Shew, Ted Curson, Art Pepper, Warne Marsh, Lew Tabackin, and many more. 

Donte’s was close to where I lived and not too expensive.  It was a heady experience to be a teenager and hanging out at a jazz club.  It felt like I was a member of a private club in which the rest of the world knew next to nothing about.  Come to think of it, 30 years later it still feels that way; especially when you take into consideration the empty seats!

I still remember the personnel in the band I saw that first night.  Pete Christlieb was the tenor player: a fiery, yet melodic musician who played in the Tonight Show Band.  He also played one of the most famous sax solos ever on a rock record on Steely Dan’s Deacon Blues. 

Terry Trotter was the pianist.  After high school I went back to studying classical music, this time with Terry.  He had a relaxed, holistic apporach to his teaching and he was nothing less than inspiring, both as a teacher and a pianist.

Andy Simpkins was the bassist, and Dick Berk was on drums.  A few years later Dick and I would become very close friends playing dozens, if not hundreds of gigs in L.A.  I was the first pianist in his band, The Jazz Adoption Agency.  I was also the pianist at his wedding where I managed to screw up the changes to Easy To Love, which was the song that he and his wife marched down the aisle to.  How embarrassing.  Dick, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry!

 Everything about Donte’s seemed cool to me.  From the dark lighting, to the leather booths, to the haze of the cigarette smoke.  The best part was the proximity of the audience to the bandstand. We were literally on top if the band in our front row table and you could hear the musicians joke to one another in a loose, nonchalant way.  Of course we couldn’t understand what they were talking about but that didn’t matter to us.  We loved that the musicians would interact with us; they would acknowledge our presence. They seemed like stars to us, yet here they were talking to us and even joking around or teasing us. 

The sound of it.  I hadn’t thought it would be loud, but it was.  We sat mere feet from the band and the music came at us with an urgency and vibrancy that, to my 16-year-old ears, had been lacking from my stereo.  It wasn’t the ear-splitting cacophony of arena rock, but it wasn’t chamber music either.  It felt substantial; like it had meat on its bones.

About a year later I would sit in with Charlie and the alto player Ted Nash.  Ted was Charlie’s best student and somebody I looked up to and he has gone on to have a great career in New York City.  I remember that even though sitting at the piano was only a few feet from my front row table, the sound and feel were completely different.  Between the bright presence of the sax, the cymbals, and the amplified bass, it felt like being in the middle of a tornado and it was difficult to get comfortable.  It was an entirely different feeling than practicing in my den or playing duets in Charlie’s studio.  Yet it was thrilling.  I’m sure that I overplayed and was every bit the callow 16 year old, but it didn’t matter.  I had gotten my feeet wet. 

Seeing Ted, as well as his pianist, Randy Kerber, who were both a year older than I, made me feel like with a lot of hard work I could be playing gigs as well.  At that time music seemed flush with possibility.  

Those first gigs that I attended probably had as much to do with my becoming serious about jazz than anything else.  I had the right teacher and now I had a place where I could hear and see the music performed, and occasionally sit in with the band.  The music was accessible, and soon it would be attainable.

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My Favorite Things: My favorite record

Posted by keithosaunders on December 5, 2010

When people ask me who my favorite musician is, or what my favorite song is, I find it impossible to come up with an answer.  There are too many to narrow it down to one.  Besides, if I did have a favorite song I would probably overplay it to the point that it would lose its number one ranking.  I do have my list of favorite pianists — Bud Powell, Horace Silver, and Wynton Kelly — and if you put a gun to my head I would choose Bud Powell, but regardless, it doesn’t feel right to narrow such genius down to one person.

When it comes to my favorite record I’m going to make an exception.  Coltrane was 34 years old when he recorded My Favorite Things on October 24th, 1960, 2 weeks shy of JFK winning the presidency and one month after the Pittsburgh Pirates, behind Bill Mazeroski’s dramatic 9th inning homerun, defeated the New York Yankees in game 7 of the World Series.  I was one day shy of two months old. 

During the previous three years Coltrane had worked with Theloniuos Monk and Miles Davis respectively.  During this period he played long, note-laden solos that critic Ira Gitler dubbed “sheets of sound.”  Between Monk’s angular compositions, and later with his own Giants Steps chord changes, Trane was playing over some of the most intricate, sophisticated harmony ever conceived, and he worked his way through these thorny chord changes like a knife slicing through butter.

By the time of My Favorite Things we see Coltrane straddling his sheets of sound with a more muscular, modally infused lyricism that would inform his classic quartet of the early to mid 60s.  The record is composed of four standards, but the arrangements are so germane to Coltrane that they may as well have been original compositions.  They are disparate songs which are not only connected by Trane’s genius, but by the group’s sound.

Coltrane’s concept meshed perfectly with his new group.  McCoy Tyner Steve Davis, (Jimmy Garrison would not join him for another year) and Elvin Jones infused Coltrane’s earthy relentless tone and hard-driving rhythmic concept with an ideal underpinning, giving him the freedom to expand on his ideas.  You can almost sense that he is so comfortable with his band that he has the confidence to play less.  These musicians were the ideal compliment for him, widening the beat and fusing dissonance, lyricism, and explosive poly-rhythms.       

Tyner’s 8 bar introduction to Richard Roger’s My Favorite Things is at once dark and foreboding.  Coltrane suspends the song’s chords over an E pedal and alternates between major and minor vamps.  The combination of his soprano sax and Davis’s droning E pedal gives the song an exotic, Eastern flavor.  If anyone thinks that it is a simple feat to play over one or two chords for this long a period I would advise them to try this at home and see what happens.  Not only does Trane never run out of ideas, but he shows such an attention to melody and phrasing that we never want him to stop.  The ballad, Everytime We Say Goodbye, perfectly offsets the denseness of the songs that frame it.  It could serve as a treatise on how to play a melody.  It is romanticism at its finest.  

It is side two, however, which for me makes this date.  It is comprised of two devastating arrangements of a pair of Gershwin songs that are both shocking and awe-inspiring.  They are cast against type and perfectly fit the scope of Trane’s style and they seamlessly cohere to the shape of this date. 

Coltrane transforms Summertime from a languid, bluesy number to a tour de force modal vehicle, complete with pedal point, whole tone harmony, and a four bar break that rivals Bird’s all-timer on Night In Tunisia.

The album’s closer, But Not For Me, is Trane’s farewell to Giant Steps changes and it transforms a well-worn vehicle into a personal tour de force.  He uses the Giant Steps progression on the first 8 measures of the  A and B sections, but it is the long tag — the iii-Vi-ii-V turn-around vamp at the end of his solo and final melody chorus — that stands out.  Here is an artist with an inexhaustible wealth of ideas that is able to build tension and excitement over the same four chords for several minutes at a time.  Only Sonny Stitt could play a tag for this long without running out of ideas, but Stitt didn’t have McCoy and Elvin.        

Not long after this recording Trane would give up playing on standards entirely.  True, the Ballads, and Duke Ellington dates were still two years in the future, but by 1960 Trane’s music was in rapid flux and he would not only pare down his notes per bar, but his chord progressions as well. 

 By the time of My Favorite Things Coltrane had become a musician who could play over the most difficult of harmony at any tempo.  Not only did he possess a supreme technical prowess, but he had the ability to infuse his lines with witticism and melody.  This is why he sounds so great regardless of whether he is playing a standard or a composition without any harmonic center.  Even towards the end of his life, when he would sometimes scream into the horn, there is a foundation.  It all comes from substance. 

In 1960 John Coltrane would begin to eliminate what he felt was not essential.  Most of us can only dream of having that luxury and the wherewithal to implement it.

Posted in jazz | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments »

And now for some Thanksgiving weekend taping foibles

Posted by keithosaunders on November 29, 2010

My friend, Jeff Mazzei, and I have spent many a fine afternoon recounting taping foibles; that is failed attempts at setting the VCR timer.  Yes, you read correctly, VCR.  I’m old school, baby!  Some of these anecdotes were recounted here.  As a kind of coda to the Thanksgiving weekend I present to you two more taping foibles of a most recent vintage.

Today I awoke to the good news that my New York Giants were getting some Bay Area television play.  This was a by-product of the hapless Raider’s inability to sell out their stadium.  The Raiders had a late game against Miami.  If that game had sold out it would have been televised in this market, thereby necessitating an early FOX game.  (the Giants were at home vs the AFC Jacksonville Jaguars which put them on CBS)  Instead we were treated to an early CBS game, the Giants, and a late FOX game, the Eagles vs da Bears.

I had an early brunch gig in San Francisco so I quickly sprung into action, setting my DVR (yes, I have moved into the 21st century) to record the Giants.  I checked and double checked and everything seemed to be in order.  I went to the gig without a worry in the world.

I arrived at the gig to find that there was a TV in the bar showing the Giants game.  No worries.  We were playing in a different part of the restaurant and the other musicians didn’t seem to sports fans.  Wrong.  The trumpet player arrived and quickly announced that he was the first cousin of David Girard, the Jaguar quarterback.

What are the odds?  You tape a game and end up playing a gig with the cousin of the quarterback of one of the teams you are taping!  Needless to say the trumpet player kept going into the bar to check on the score and he was not shy about letting us know that the Jaguars were kicking butt.  (they had an early 17-9 lead) 

By the first break I had abandoned all hope of avoiding the score so I happily joined the trumpet player in the bar for some third quarter action.  The Jags had the ball and were driving when the Giants D came up big for a stop.  A punt pinned the Giants at their own 10 and I boldly announced that they would drive 90 yards for the tying touchdown and two point conversion.  And they did.  We had to go back to work and by the time we finished the Giants had a 24-20 comeback win.  I wish I could have seen the entire game but at least I had a brush with greatness. 

Now for the rarest of rarities:  A taping non-foible!  Here it is in Jeff Mazzei’s own words.

Here’s my taping tale.  I opted to not tape any of the Thanksgiving games on the assumption that I’d hear or see the scores anyway, and I was getting back Sunday for the live games.  [Jeff was on vacation in Cape May, NJ]  I wound up seeing the 2nd half of the Dallas game which was real good.  I decided I’d just try to find the Jet highlights or read about it in Friday’s paper.  To this moment in time (Sunday), I have not been able to find out a thing about that game.  The taping gods mock me.

 This is the bitter irony that befalls the taper.  When you try to avoid the score you end up playing a gig with the quarterbacks’ cousin , but when you really want a score it is nowhere to be found.  Good day.

Posted in football, jazz | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

The 2010 Randy Moss tour continues

Posted by keithosaunders on November 1, 2010

If you look up the term ‘team player’ in the dictionary you will see a picture of Randy Moss inside of a circle with a big X drawn through it.  What NFL city will Moss grace his presence with next?  Historically he would be a good fit for the Raiders, who have thrived on providing second chances to the miscreants of the league, but there’s always the dysfunctional Washington Redskins — he’d fit in perfectly there. 

Moss, in a surprise move, was released by the Minnesota Vikings this afternoon.  The team has not yet provided an explanation, but it doesn’t take much imagination to figure it out.  He showed up for yesterday’s post-game news conference in a Boston cap.  This after a game vs the New England Patriots,a game in which he was seen quitting on plays (as is his wont) and generally appearing to be disinterested. 

In the sports world as long as you have talent there is a gig for you.  Not so in the jazz world.  There is a basic supply and demand premise that comes into play.  When I lived in New York there were a handful of great jazz musicians who hardly worked.  They played at an extremely high level guys and they were at the equal, if not better than their peers.  Yet, for one reason or another they had a hard time getting hired.  This was because there are so many great musicians and not all that much demand for them.  When gigs are in limited supply it becomes more important that they go smoothly, which means very low tolerance for being excessively late or getting drunk and high during the performance. 

I’m not implying that Randy Moss’s talent supersedes that of a jazz musician.  There are exponentially more people who can do what Moss does than what a first-rate jazz musician can do. There is, however, such an enormous demand for a player of Moss’s ability that he can get away with almost anything short of shooting himself in the leg.  Even at 3 + million dollars a game.  It’s remarkable, sad, and unfortunately, true.  

 

 

Posted in football, jazz | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

The art of the jam session

Posted by keithosaunders on October 4, 2010

Zapple asked: I always wondered how the jam sessions worked. Did you just ask them to sit in?

While there is no pat answer there is a certain routine to most jam sessions.  For those of you who don’t know, the a jam session is an informal gathering of musicians who do not necessarily know each other.  You never know who you will play with and how the music will sound — it’s part of its charm, frustration, and excitement.  I have played with some incredible musicians just by happening to be on the bandstand at the right time — Roy Hargrove Jr., Joe Lovano, Jeff Tain Watts, and Esperanza Spaulding are a few who come immediately to mind. 

On the other hand, I have played with some real nut cases in my day.  There have been singers who don’t know their keys and can’t stay on pitch anyhow, sax players who play ten minute solos before stopping in the middle of the chorus, and anal trumpet players who shout out instructions on when, where, and how to play during their solos.  Just as in daily life, you meet all kinds of people.

I found that what works best for me is to go in with an open mind and a sense of humor.  I’m not looking to have the deepest musical experience, but I am delighted when things click.  More often than not I have a good time at jam sessions.  The beauty of it is, unlike a gig, you can leave whenever you want.  

You have to realize that jam sessions are like networking sessions for musicians.  It’s where we go to meet people and to showcase our abilities.  In this sense there is a certain pressure to perform.  In my younger days I was more nervous about playing good at sessions.  These days I’m more philosophical — I”ve done a lifetime of work practicing at home and playing at gigs.  If things don’t click instantaneously it’s not my fault.  In fact, usually it’s not anybody’s fault.   

The thing about music is that it’s impossible to quantify what combinations of people will or will not work.  You can put five great musicians together and the results can be less than spectacular.  The chemistry might not be right — maybe the drummer and bass player don’t agree on the time, which could make the soloist uncomfortable.  You never know what you’re going to get.

Jam sessions are really a horn player’s game.  They saunter into the club with their horn, take it out of the case, and sit in.  After they’ve had their fill they put the horn back in the case and leave.  They’re like musical Lotharios.  They have their way with the rhythm section and leave. 

If you’re a pianist, bassist, or drummer, jam sessions are a different story.  You can end up waiting a long time before getting called up to play.  For me this is the hardest part of going to jam sessions, for the longer I wait to play, the more I drink and the worse I’ll sound.  As I said before, you never know who you’re going to play with.  I could wait 45 minutes to play and end up with a mediocre drummer, or a bass player made surely by a parade of endless horn solos.  It’s a crapshoot to say the least.

For the most part, however, jam sessions work.  They work because in the end you have a group of like-minded people.  These are folks who comprise an increasingly miniscule portion of the population — jazz lovers.  So I say to you:  Let’s celebrate our musical differences and let the chips fall where they may!

…and at last, the answer to zapple’s question:  There’s usually a sign-up list.

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Not my finest hour in the kitchen

Posted by keithosaunders on September 8, 2010

Lately I’ve been getting into cooking dinners for my family.  For the most part I’ve done a good job.  A little internet searching usually yields a simple enough recipe for my culinary skill-set, and if I’m really ambitious I’ll even make a sauce.

Tonight I improvised a mexican sauce for steak by adding cilantro, garlic, chile sauce, and lime juice into the blender.  I set my phasor on stun and fired it up.  (actually it was the blender and it was set to puree) I added the sauce to the steak, put it in the oven at 450, and went about my business.

15 minutes later I checked on the steak only to see it was still rare.  I went to the freezer to get some ice for my water and wouldn’t you know it, the handle was loose and came ajar.  I tried to set it back in place and ended up gashing my index finger on the loose metal. 

There’s always that split second after the cut where you are hoping against hope that the cut isn’t a deep one.  I held my breath to no avail.  The blood came gushing out like old faithful.  I Was like Dan Aykroyd as Julie Child in that old Saturday Night Live skit.  By the time I finished with the washing and bandaging of my finger the steak was over-cooked.  Like leather.  The pity was that the sauce came out good and received rave reviews from my kids.  I spent the dinner trying to cut my steak with the knife precariously propped against my thumb.  I’m lucky I didn’t do any further damage to my hands. 

On a happier note I would like to wish a happy birthday to the greatest living sax player, Sonny Rollins!   Sonny is one of my all time favorites and I spent a good part of today on Pandora listening to his music.  He is 80 years old today. 

  

Posted in jazz, life | Tagged: , , , , | 3 Comments »

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