The World According to Keitho

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Clyde

Posted by keithosaunders on April 3, 2011

I’ve discovered this guy on twitter who calls himself NotWaltFrazier.  Of course his tweets are all rhymes but he’s actually better at it than the real Clyde!  Here are some of his better ones:

 
Just saw the #Lakers-#Cavs score! This embarassin’ has little comparison’!
 
Came back from the bathroom to see Mike Breen messin’ with my chair. Not trustin’ his adjustin’!
 
Amar’e and Nor’easter. Partners in creatin’ random punctuatin’!
 
What’s with Portland turnin’ your knee into debris? Playin’ for the Blazers is riskin’ your meniscin’!
 
Carmelo’s lookin yellow with all this talkin’ and balkin’!
 
Got me thinkin’ about Willis in Game 7. His limpin’ was pimpin’!
 
Skippin’ breakfast got me stumblin’ and grumblin’! Appeasin’ with ham ‘n cheesin’!
 
Mike Breen is still mad I re-scheduled his wake-up call for 4am LOL. My prankin’ got him crankin’!
 
 
 
Finally I direct tweeted him this:
 
Keith:  Clyde, your tweets are delightable and recitable!
 
 And he responded
 
notwaltfrazier:  C for grammar, A for glamour!

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Super Bowl memories: The return of the Jedi

Posted by keithosaunders on February 6, 2011

This has turned into a much bigger project than I had originally envisioned.  I felt the subject needed a little gravitas so naturally I went with Jedi.  I bet Lukie Skywalker doesn’t remember where he was for every Super Bowl. 

Super Bowl XXXIV — Atlanta

Rams vs Titans

The beginning of the aughties saw my Super Bowl viewing locale stabilize towards the greatest Borough in the world: The Bronx.  I would arrive at Jeff’s house about a half hour before game time ready for the pageantry that is the Super Bowl.  In keeping with the tradition begun over a decade earlier, the Super Bowl meal was always, and will always be, deli.  Let other people have wings, burgers, or whatever they want.  They’re peasants!  Real men eat kasha on Super Sunday. 

This was one of the great Super Bowls.  With three seconds remaining the Titans were at the Rams 10 yard line threatening to score the winning touchdown.  Quarterback Steve McNair passed to Kevin Dysan who caught the ball at the three yard line but was stopped at the one as the game clock elapsed.  

Super Bowl XXXV — Tampa

Ravens vs Giants

Nothing much to say here other than the Giants laid a huge egg in their return to Tampa.  I watched the game at my LIC apartment.  Perhaps the game was so traumatic that it wiped every detail of that day from my mind.  Moving on…

Super Bowl XXXVI — New Orleans

Patriots vs Rams

Back in the Bronx with Jeff and deli for the dawn of Patriots; unfortunately an era that persists to this day.  This was a great back and forth contest with the Patriot’s Adam Vinatieri kicking the deciding field goal as time expired.

Super Bowl XXXVII — San Diego

Buccaneers vs Raiders

It’s hard to believe there was a time in the not so distant past when the Raiders were good.  (and that the Buccanners have a Super Bowl victory) The Bucs coach, John Gruden, had previously coached the Raiders for three years.  Somehow the Raiders, even though their former coach was coaching against them, never bothered to change their playbook!  The result?  48-21 Bucs.

Super Bowl XXXVIII — Houston

Patriots vs Panthers

Keith:  What’s that?!

Jeff:  What?

Keith:  I think I just saw a nipple

Jeff:  What the hell are you talking about?!

Keith:  I’m not sure.  It happened so fast, but I think I just saw Janet Jackson’s nipple!

I was half-heartedly watching the halftime show.  Jeff was in the other room talking on the phone.  It was my dumb luck to witness the greatest split second of television history.  The beauty of it was that it could only be done once.  Shortly after the unveiling,  league rules were put in place insuring that every televised game would use a seven second delay.

 It was another great game and another great session of pageantry and deli at Jeff’s.  The game was tied late and we were in a frenzy looking forward to the first overtime game in Super Bowl history.  It was not to be, however, as an out-of-bounds Carolina kick off gave the Patriots great field position enabling Vinatieri to kick yet another game winning field goal.  32-29 Pats.

Super Bowl XXXIX — Jackoonville

Patriots vs Eagles

Jeff’s house. Deli.  Patriots.

Super Bowl XL — Detroit

Steelers vs Seahawks

Really, Seahawks?  Your one shot at a Super Bowl and this is what you give us:  Penalties, dropped passes, and poor clock management.  I’ll leave it to the readers to guess where I was and what I ate.

Super Bowl XLI– Miami

Colts vs Bears

My sixth straight year viewing the game in the Bronx saw Peyton Manning win the big prize.  Not much to say but Daaaaaaaa Bears! (lost)

Super Bowl XLII — Glendale, Arizona

Giants vs Patriots

I guess I picked the right year to throw my only Super Bowl party.  The Giants shocked the world and that blowhard Belicik went down along with Brady. (multiple times)  In attendance were my family, Jeff, drummer Taro Okamoto, and friends Thomas, Janet, and Ernie.  Afterwards I drove to Small’s jazz club in the Village and everyone was outside in a great mood, happy, yelling, honking horns.  No rioting, though.  People think that New York is a dangerous town but we never riot when our teams win.  So suck on that, Chicago!

Super Bowl XLIII — Tampa

Steelers vs Cardinals

Back at Jeff’s for this exciting matchup in which the Cardinals fell just short. This was yet another game that had overtime written all over it.  Late in the game the Cardinals had a three-point lead.  The Steelers had the ball and we figured they would play for a tieing field goal.  Wrong.  With 35 seconds left Roethlisberger through a touchdown pass to Santonio Holmes.  27-23 Steelers.

Super Bowl XXIV — Miami

Saints vs Colts

The Saints had the temerity to start the second half off with an onside kick.  They were successful but Jeff and I got a DSP.  (didn’t see play)  The Saints pulled away but the novelty of seeing New Orleans win the championship made up for the one-sided second half.

——————————————————————–

This wraps up Keitho’s first ever Super Bowl memory recap.  Who knows what memories tomorrow’s game will bring?  I’ll be back in another 30 years to review the next batch.

Posted in football, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

One night in East Rutherford

Posted by keithosaunders on January 23, 2011

The date:  January 22nd, 1987.

The location: East Rutherford, New Jersey

The weather:  Blizzard

My friend and occasional guest blogger, Jeff, had tickets to the new Jersey Devils game versus the Calgary Flames.  It was a midweek night game and the plan, as per usual, was to meet him in Washington Heights at 5PM.  Jeff lives in the Bronx and at that time worked in Manhattan, while I was living in Brooklyn.  Rather than go back to the Bronx, which was out-of-the-way, Jeff had parked uptown very close to the entrance to the George Washington bridge. 

By the time five o’clock rolled around there was already a foot of snow on the ground and it was still coming down hard.  Jeff and I were young and fearless and we weren’t going to let a little weather stand in the way of  seeing the Devils and Flames bang and smash each other into submission.

Jeff had snagged the all-time classic blizzard parking spot.  He was at the end of the street facing downhill so he didn’t have to dig out of his spot — all he had to do was ease into traffic, make a right turn and we were on the bridge crossing the state line.  Once we hit the Jersey Turnpike the traffic came to a dead halt.  It was practically white out conditions and it was rush hour to boot. 

We inched along wondering if we would miss the start of the game.  We arrived at Byrne Arena an hour and a half later —  a half hour after the scheduled start —  but we soon discovered that the game was being delayed since many of the players were stuck in the same traffic!

When we entered the arena we found that we had it practically all to ourselves.  There were only 334 people who showed up!  An announcement was made inviting us to sit anywhere we pleased so we moved up to the front row behind the Flames penalty box.  The anthems were dispensed with due to the late start and the banging and smashing commenced.

I’ll never forget the strange feeling of being inside of a 20,000 seat arena with so few people inside of it.  It was like being at a practice.  The sound of the players being checked into the boards reverberated throughout the building like thunder and we could hear the players shouting at each other. 

At one point  the Flames designated goon, Nick Fotiu, received a five-minute major penalty.  As the PA announcer said, “five minutes,” Jeff waved the Daily News at him and asked him if he’d like to read the paper while he’s in there.  He actually turned around and threw a menacing glared our way.  It was scary so we moved up a few rows and kept a lower profile.

On the way home the snow had stopped after depositing two feet and the temperature had dropped into the teens.  There were abandoned cars that had spun into snow banks all over the Turnpike.  When we reached my house in Brooklyn the lock on my front door had frozen so Jeff climbed in through one of the unlocked windows and was able to open the door from the inside.

While we were at the game someone from the Devils P.R. office had circulated a sign in sheet asking us to fill out our address.  Two weeks later we received Devils t-shirts in the mail that said, ”The 334 Club”  I wore mine for years until it disintegrated –  I believe Jeff still has his.  Four years ago. on the 20th anniversary of the blizzard, the Devils honored the 334 fans who attended that infamous game by giving us free tickets and inviting us to a post game banquet.  Jeff and I attended that game. 

Here I am 24 years later in Berkeley, California, where it was 67 degrees today.  It’s hard to believe that I attended a game in a blizzard at a time when the Devils were perennial cellar dwellers.  I’m glad I did.

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Banjo Billy

Posted by keithosaunders on January 10, 2011

Jazz can be easy, especially when you are not constrained by the moorings of harmony, rhythm, and melody.  It’s about freedom, right?  The freedom to play whatever you want whenever you want.

A couple of weeks ago I played a gig at a club with a quintet.  It was an unusual instrumentation.  The band consisted to trumpet, piano, bass, drums, and banjo. 

Banjo? 

There have been many outstanding jazz musicians who have played unorthodox instruments.  Toots Tielemans is a world-class harmonica player.  How about Ray Draper, the hard-bop tuba player?  [tubist?]  He even played on one of John Coltrane’s recordings.  There are even jazz whistlers although I’m too disgusted by the idea to go to the trouble of citing any.  Take my word for it, they’re out there.

So what the heck, why couldn’t this guy be the Wes Montgomery of the banjo?  Before we began playing the leader asked the banjo player if he knew the tunes that we were going to play.  (he had compiled a list) 

“Sure!  There isn’t a tune written that can’t be played! ”

Who can argue with this logic? 

 The gig began and at first I thought that someone had left the club’s stereo on.  I was hearing strumming totally unrelated to what we were playing.  It must be the radio, what else could it be?

It was the banjo.  It sounded like he was playing random notes at his whim.  Sixteen bars would go by without him playing when all of a sudden you would hear, “Crackly-splattily-triddelly-umph.  BRINGGG!”   Then nothing for another several bars before, “Screachhity-slumphity-Crack!”

That was Autumn Leaves.

The bass player had a very wide beat and a great time feeling.  The trouble was that he played notes that were unrelated in any recognizable way to the chords.  He played with such conviction, however, that you would never know.  Well, unless you actually knew the chords.  

Banjo Billy, however, was not blessed with a good time feeling.  He was on a deserted island with narry a Professor, Ginger, or Maryann in sight.  As for me, I can cross ‘playing a gig with a jazz banjo player’ off of my bucket list.

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The reign of the evil empire, part 2: The fall of Keitho

Posted by keithosaunders on October 12, 2010

Long Island City, NY. October 23rd, 1996.

I was in my living room watching what appeared to be a routine Braves victory in game four of the World Series — a win that would have given them a 3-1 stranglehold over the New York Yankees with John Smoltz set to pitch game 5. The Braves were leading 6-0 going into the 6th inning and up until this point had they had little trouble containing the Yankees attack. Derek Jeter led off and hit a routine foul pop up which three Braves converged on. Somehow the umpire managed to get between the fielders, inadvertently obstructing the play. Jeter, with new life, singled, sparking a three run rally which brought the Yankees to within three. In the 8th I was still feeling good about the Braves chances when Yankee catcher Jim Leyritz tied the game with a 3 run home run to left. The game was won by the Yankees in the 10th and the Series, not to mention my life, had turned.

Andy Pettitte threw a 1-0 gem in game 5, and after a taut 3-2 win in game 6 the Yankees had their first championship in 18 years. I remember watching the clincher and thinking that I was happy for their fans who had recently suffered through some particularly lean years. It was good for New York, and anyway the Braves fans were obnoxious with that idiotic tomahawk chop.

Yet there was a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach which gnawed at me. The Yankees had won a Series in clutch fashion after being dominated at home during the first two games. Their key position players and pitchers were young or in their prime. What if? Could it happen? No, this was a fluke. Wasn’t it?

It was no fluke. The next year they were beaten by Cleveland in the first round thanks to a blown save by Mariano Rivera, but from that point on, until 2005, Mariano’s post-season ERA would be 0.00. From 2006 until the present his era is…0.00. In this span the Yankees have missed the playoffs once. They have won five Series and seven A.L. Pennants.

The years took on a Groundhogs Day sameness, each one ending with the parade down the canyon of heroes. My misery culminated in 2000, the year of the Subway Series. Up until that time I had rooted against the Yankees as an erstwhile fan of their opposing team. That year I was treated to a first-hand bitch-slapping as my Mets proved to be woefully inadequate. I hoped against hope for a miracle, but after Paul O’Neill’s 14 pitch at-bat off of Armando Benitez and the ensuing comeback, the knife was in — all that remained was the twisting. The next night a bat was hurled at Mike Piazza by a steroidally-enfused mercenary named Roger Clemens. (Thank you sir, may I have another?) The Mets were done and so was I.

Next year was even worse, even though the Yankees failed to four-peat against the expansion Arizona Diamondbacks. In the wake of September 11th, “We’re all Yankee fans now,” became America’s mantra. In the past I had been able to take a small measure of consolation in the fact that I was not alone in rooting against the Yankees. Now I was on an island with John McCain. Every game became an elegy to the bravery of New Yorkers – the Yankees were going to make us all forget about the recent tragedy. There was Giuliani with his shit-eating grin, the Yankee cap, and the fat son. Throw in the fighter planes, the opera singer, the God Bless America, and I was puking through my tears.

I look back at my smug, condescending 1996 self and I laugh. You poor, confused, naive dullard. But then I think that perhaps it was a good thing that there was one Yankee Series in which I did not scream obscenities at the TV, or feel the pre-ulcerous knot of tension in the pit of my stomach.

Since the middle of the 1990′s the Yankees have been a well-oiled, expertly handled organization. This does nothing to temper my hatred. You can call me a pathological, self-pitying, resentful bastard. It’s a moot point, though. Like Popeye, I yam what I yam — my hatred isn’t going anywhere. I have to live with it and accept that most Octobers will be gut wrenching experiences.

I’ll say this. Teams should be allowed to sign whomever they think will help them win, but here’s the thing: The Yankees have a payroll that is 40 million higher than the Redsox and 109 million higher than the team they just beat, the Twins. On top of this they are the favorite to sign ace pitcher Cliff Lee. They play by the rules and they’re a great organization, but don’t rub my face in it and ask me to like it. It’s a little hard to take. 

OK, that’s it. I’m exhausted already. I now invite you all to let me have it. Come on, you know you want to. Just remember the first rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club.

Posted in baseball, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , | 10 Comments »

It’s a twister!

Posted by keithosaunders on September 20, 2010

Last week a tornado blew through Queens, Brooklyn, and Staten Island.  It did major damage in Queens and Brooklyn — there were many downed trees and one fatality in Queens.   There were many amateur videos.  Here in Berkeley, California I was receiving continual updates and photos on both my facebook and twitter feeds.  It felt strange to be experiencing this event almost in real-time from so far away.

As I was checking out my twitter feed I noticed that someone had actually registered Bklyntornado as a user name and was posting as if he/she was the tornado.  I have to say, these tweets were hilarious.  So without further adieu I give you…the Brooklyn Tornado.

Got a couple fancy strollers in my funnel!

Hanging out in somewhere called “Bushwick”? We’re definitely not in Kansas anymore. I’ve never terrorized so many minorities!

What’s up with ‘Fort Greene’? Is there actually a fort there? Not anymore! (Cuz I blew it over. LOL.)

Everyone is describing me; let me describe you: “OMG, a Tornado!” [Pulls out smartphone, starts tweeting. Hit by flying lawn chair.]

Just got a call from Good Morning America. They want to know if I injured any attractive white women they could have on their show tomorrow.

Got this mosque stuck in my funnel. Not sure how many blocks away from Ground Zero I should set it down.

Uh oh. RT @SarahPalinUSA Pls, @BKLYNTornado. Its Ur Right 2 put down mosque, but is UNNECESSARY. Keep terror temple in ur funnel 4ever.

New Yorkers are pussies. In Kansas people would be THANKING me right now. RT @shellybhushan effed up evening. thanks @bklyntornado

My funnel smells like horseshit. Can someone make sure I didn’t suck up Carl Paladino?

Religious leaders say I hit New York because of all the gays. Not true. I hit it because of all the Jews. KIDDING! KIDDING!

My one regret: Not sucking up Larry King and hanging him by his suspenders from the Empire State Building’s antenna. Always been a dream.

You can follow me at my regular account: @OminousLowPressureSystem.

And now I’m off! Back into Zeus’ asshole! (That’s where tornadoes come from.)

Gooodddd byeeeee newwwww yorrrrkkkkkkkk. Getttt sommmeee fuckkkiinnnggg tornadoooooo sireeeeennnnnssss orrrrr yourrr gonnnnaaa dieeeeee

This is sad: New Yorkers don’t believe in me. Now I know how the Mets feel. :(

 

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Smalls one last time

Posted by keithosaunders on July 13, 2010

My time in New York City can now be measured in weeks.  Although we do not have a definite departure date it is safe to assume that we are under  four weeks away from leaving.  We have yet to rent our apartment which, of course, is a source of great stress.  We are planning trading in our Subaru and leasing a bigger vehicle for the cross-country trip.  There will be four humans and one dog and we would like to minimize the sardine effect as much as possible.  Our oldest boy will not be travelling with us.  Instead he will fly out with a friend and spend some time in San Francisco at his friend’s aunt’s house.   

I first played at the jazz club Small’s with the HardBop Quintet shortly after it opened in 1993.  I remember going down to west 10th st to talk with the owner, Mitch Borden.  When I  met Mitch he was sitting outside on a chair playing violin.  He invited me downstairs to play for him and I remember we played together, though I can’t remember what we played.

The first time we played at Smalls there were just a few people in the audience but Mitch hired us back for the next month and we soon became part of the rotation, playing several times a year.  Gradually the business built up until it became unusual for the club not to be crowded.

In the early days Smalls had no bar and the chairs were arranged haphazardly throughout the basement club.  There were various couches and comfy chairs placed in nooks and crannys for people to plop down in.  For a small venue it was amazing how many such corners it had.  There were even secret alcoves and storage areas that actually served as crash pads — makeshift apartments — for down out musicians.  There was a heavy steel door in the back — it looked like an entrance to a supermarket freezer — which opened into one such storage area that served as a practice room.  It actually contained an upright piano. 

By 1995 Small’s had caught on and was crowded most every night — packed with college students, serious young musicians, and jazz fans.  It became a nurturing ground for young musicians, as well as a home base to some of the older masters, such as Jimmy Lovelace, Frank Hewitt, and Harry Whitaker.

There were times when the musicians, audience, and even the club itself could have an attitude.  Almost always, however, you could hear a pin drop during the sets.  This set it apart from many smaller jazz spots in which conversation was not discouraged.  

Smalls was a serious place in the best sense of the word.  You had young lions desperate to be heard, but with the passion to hang out night after night until five or six in the morning, learning, absorbing, and living jazz.  Not one of them was less than 100 percent committed to the music. 

In 2007, after Small’s had been closed for  a couple of years, the pianist Spike Wilner, and his partner, Lee Kostrinsky, bought Small’s and reopened it.  They remodeled it and added a full bar complete with tap beer.  They hired a much more diverse group of musicians — Mitch was partial to straight ahead bebop — but the standard of playing remains as  high as ever.  In my opinion it is, hands down, the best club in New York City.

 All of this is a long preamble to saying that I have played my final weekend at Smalls as a New York City musician.  If I play there again it will be as a Californian on tour, or on a visit.  I worked with the Richie Vitale Quintet, a group I have had the pleasure of playing with for almost ten years.  We had a great gig and the audiences were generous and appreciative.  It was fitting that towards the end of the final set of the weekend Richie called That’s All.  I thought it would be the last tune of the night but he ended with a medium tempo I Got Rhythm.  I wanted to scream “No!  You’re ruining the poetry!”  Instead I held my tongue. 

It’s going to take a lifetime to find a club in which I feel as home at, and as connected to.  I may never find one.

Posted in jazz, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments »

Game 7

Posted by keithosaunders on June 17, 2010

It took me until the middle of June, but after a horrendous NBA playoffs which featured one-sided defeats and a too-early exit from LeBron, I am finally engaged.  Tonight’s game 7, between the Lakers and Celtics finds me enlisting my best friend to man the VCR.  After my gig in Westchester I will head immediately to the Bronx for some midnight hoops. 

This is only the 17th NBA finals game 7 and it’s just the 4th in the last 22 years.  In 2005 the Spurs beat the Pistons. In 1994 it was the Knicks who blew a 3-2 lead in games, losing to the Rockets, and in 1988 the Lakers beat the Pistons at the Forum.

I grew up in Los Angeles rooting for the Lakers.  I was a little young to experience the perennial disappoinment of the 1960s Lakers fans who saw their team lose to the Celtics 7 times.  (to be accurate the first of that string came in 1959)  When I moved to New York in 1984 I was deeply into the Magic/Kareem Lakers and I rooted hard for them in the three Finals that occured that decade.

There is something about this current Laker team that prevents me from rooting for them.  For starters, there is Phil Jackson.  I had to endure his Bulls team spoil the Knnck’s dreams year after year in the 90s.  He came to the Lakers and it wasn’t as if he had to rebuild from scratch — they already had Shaq and Kobe!  Furthermore, I have never warmed to Kobe.  There is no denying his greatness, but between his failure to get along with Shaq, and his questionable off the court adventures, I never rooted for him.

I don’t think the Celtics have much of a shot tonight.  Only 3 of those 17 game 7s saw the road team win and the Celtics are going to miss their big man, Kendrick Perkins, who is out with an injury.  Still, if the stars align, you never know.  It could be a thrilla!

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Business, pleasure, or both?

Posted by keithosaunders on April 9, 2010

The music business is a strange one.  Leaving out Broadway shows and symphony orchestras, most of our gigs are freelance affairs which are most often one time engagements done without contracts.  On any given night there is nothing standing in the way of a club owner paying the band other than his conscience.  Yes, there we have small claims court, but this is a lot of trouble and expense to go through to collect one night’s pay.  Even if the court rules in favour of the musician, collecting the money is no easy feat.

So we take our lumps while developing an admittedly unscientific, but surprisingly accurate risk/reward analysis before accepting a gig.   The more you improve as a musician and the more gigs you play, the better  situations you find yourself in and you can minimize the amount of drama.  You pick your fights and you realize, that like parking tickets, the occasional shortage of money is inevitable.

Then there are the grey areas worthy of Talmudic study.  Because we tend to get along personally, as well as musically, there can be a blurring between business and friendship.  For example, say a club owner decides to short the band 50% because of a low turnout.  The leader wants to go with it so that he can get a return engagement.  You, as a sideman have agreed to a certain price and think that the leader should hold out for the full amount.  Arguing is almost always futile and leads to bad blood.  I believe that at this point the sideman has only one recourse and that is to not accept the next gig, in effect quitting the band.  You have to weigh your principles against the future earnings that will almost certainly be lost. 

There are so many factors.  How much do these gigs pay?  How often are they?  How close are you with the band and how much enjoyment do you get playing the gigs?  Sometimes quitting is the right thing to do. Sometimes it’s better to suck it up and take one for the team. 

I have quit gigs and felt terrible, and at other times I have  felt that I did the right thing.   I once had a steady Thursday night with a jazz quintet at a dive bar.  The piano was horrible beyond belief.  To this day it remains one of the worst pianos I have ever played.  I’ll never forget — it was a Young Chang that was finished with a gumball-blue lacquer.  It was perennially out of tune and had an action that was so heavy it required chops of steel.  There were, however, some positives to the gig.  The joint became a kind of Thursday hangout and great musicians used to stop by and sit in with the band.  Joe Lovano, (sometimes playing drums!) would play, and  Ralph Lalama, one of the best saxophonists in the world, was in the band. 

It wasn’t the worst spot in the world to be for a young pianist who had only lived in New York a few years.  After two years of battling with the piano I couldn’t stand  it any longer.  For a while I was lugging a keyboard and amp to the gig  — up and down subway steps — and that was even worse.  So I quit.  Looking back I think I should have stuck with it because the pluses outweighed the minuses. 

On the other side of the coin I used to work with what we East Coast call a “club date” band.  This is a euphemism for wedding band.  The leader kept us very busy with gigs, but he constantly lowballed us, paying as much as 30% too little.  True, the gigs paid 3 times as much as jazz gigs, but they were way under scale for these kind of affairs.  In that situation you can be assured that somebody is making money.  The fact that the leader was making hundreds more than me, yet refused to pay me a small percentage more than what I was making led me to quit that gig.  Even though I lost out on a large quantity of work I felt better about myself —  not the least because I was no longer degrading myself musically —  and I would eventually end up in better situations.      

Sometimes I look at salaried people and I am envious.  They are free of the barter system that we musicians are entrenched in.  This feeling usually lasts until the next gig.  By the middle of the first tune I’m thinking “Now what was I mad about?”

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Miles Davis: The secret weapon in the fight for health care reform.

Posted by keithosaunders on March 20, 2010

On August 29th, 1970 Miles Davis appeared at the Isle of Wight festival.  Primarily a rock festival it featured such artists as Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, and The Who. 

Miles was in rare form — on fire!   The group consisted of 2 keyboard players — Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett.  I know that Jarrett did not like playing electric pianos but he sounded good, playing one of the raunchiest sounding keyboards (supposedly an organ) I’ve ever heard.  He somehow manages not to overpower the music. I wonder how Chick, who was playing rhodes,  and Keith got along on that tour. I would have liked to have overheard some of their conversations.

It is my belief that the entire U.S. Congress, yutzes that are,  should be locked  inside of a screening  room and forced to listen and view this concert.  I am convinced that the ensuing mass heart attacks would be instrumental in driving home the point about the importance of health care reform.

You can watch a great interview with Keith Jarrett about this concert at Joshua’s blog here

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