Roy Haynes at the Blue Note

11/12/19 20:46 Bethlehem, PA

Thank you for reading this.  I arrived back at the house by 0200, dumped my bags around the room, brushed my teeth and went to bed.  I had to be up in four hours and it was a restless night of a monkey mind, the room was too warm and I was anxious about the day.  But here we are my friends. Listening to Coltrane and Monk and Roy Hayes at the Five Spot back in 1958.  It is significant since I bought a used CD at the record store in Commack before driving into the city and I thought wouldn’t it be great to get this signed by the one and only Roy Haynes.  It was a good idea so stick with me for a little while.  Parked the car at the Icon Parking garage near Cooper Union and walked across town with my CD in my pocket.  It was a mild autumn night.  I called Meli and said I wanted to take her to this neighborhood since it was old New York, narrow streets and people waiting for others to get through.  It was very civil last night.  I headed over to the Blue Note and waited with others to get inside.  It wasn’t a long wait.  I asked the guy checking us in if Roy was around and he said he’s up in the dressing room.  Instead of waiting after the show, I head up with my CD and noticed a guy about to go into the dressing room.  Excuse me I said, would you mind getting this signed for me?  He was about to take the CD and thought better of it, and invited me to follow up into the dressing room.  Cool.  But we soon learned Roy was in the bathroom.  So I waited and the guy used the bathroom as well and I waited in the hall like a moth dangling in the light.  I waited for him to finish and I told myself, be patient.  Just be patient.  I noticed his shoes in the stall every time the door opened and I waited.  Maybe he was snorting coke.  I couldn’t waited and knocked.  The door opened.  I was welcomed.  There was Roy in his seat and tapping his feet.  I asked if he would sign my CD.  But he looked at it and said he wasn’t on it.  He opened up the cover and said, there was too much writing here.  Man…he liked to use the word, Man. I don’t know, he said.  I thought he was not going to sign it and in that time we got to know one another.  Have any kids?  Yes, I have four.  You look too young to have any kids.  Thank you, can you sign it?  The others guys in the band told him he was on the album and it was one of their favorites.  Is there a picture of me?  No, I said disappointed.  And I thought quickly, maybe you can sign the back of the CD, the silver part?  And he did.  Would you mind if we take a picture?  No, he said.  He didn’t want to take a picture.  He was being difficult, but in a gentle way.  Roy took the stage.  He danced a little in front of the audience and took his seat behind the drums.  The man who played with Bird, Louis Armstrong, Eric Dolphy, Chick Corea, was in his element and I was amazed how much energy he had.  So, what the show started at 10:30 and was wrapping up just before midnight.  The band played to a sparse room.  I drank three beers and as he was walking back to his dressing room, I got in a quick picture with him.    

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Back in Northport, I learned my favorite Barber passed away

10/25/19 17:49 East Northport

I have not taken a shower today.  My skin is feeling clammy, but it’s alright.  I will jump into a hot shower and head over to Patchogue to see Chick Corea and company.  The seats I assumed would be empty – one on either side have been sold to strangers.  It’s alright.  Looking forward to seeing this show since it’s the first concert in a few weeks, and the first on Long Island in months, maybe a year?  Who cares? 

Meli and I had a tiff last night.  By this morning, we were back.  She fell asleep without calling.  My imagination was creating a scene that is best left unsaid in this blog.  I feel like a commercial, “For the rated R version, go to my other blog…but this is it ladies and gentlemen.”  Like I said, this morning we were back.  She explained she laid down last night, pulled the covers over her since it was cold and rainy in Mexico City and was quickly off to dreamland.

Saw Lou today.  We had lunch.  I have sad news to share since my worse fear came to life.  My favorite barber, Jack passed away.  After lunch we walked over to see if he was there – to make an appointment.  The store was black.  There were signs on the window and letters from customers, expressing their condolences to his family.  Dried flowers were still in a vase. There were candles long seduced by the elements - extinguished.  We read the notes and the posts.  This was a man spent his life working and loving his family.  They were his life, and I know they will be successful since Jack was very proud of all of them.  They were all successful.  I will miss him and yet I was not surprised.  He was sick for a while and yet it was sudden.  The last couple of times, I needed a haircut I’d call Jack.  The answering machine would not pick up.  I knew he had passed.

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Wayne Shorter quartet at Lincoln Center

4/29/12 09:27 Traffic on the LIE was heavy in Queens. I watched as time extra time I gave myself seep away as the car crawled in the fast lane. No accidents reported on the radio, it was Saturday night west bound traffic heading into the city. When I feel myself getting stressed out, I put it in God’s hand. Like life the traffic is not in my control, but I looked for openings and weaved in and around some drivers. Crossed over Ed Koch Bridge, down to 58th and across town and up Eighth but had to circle around Columbus once like a fool - I cursed out loud for following the GPS. I parked the car with minutes to get inside. Walked past a long line waiting to get tickets and took a cramped elevator up. I was closer to a young man, so much I could smell his hair. Found where I had to go, around and up the stairs. Minutes… then the rush dispelled as I took my seat. I took in the warmth of the Rose Theatre, which enhanced the show as the colors in the room faded to deep red and blues. I knew I was in for something special. Lincoln Center has created a unique theatre. When it comes to going to jazz concerts, I accepted the stark reality years ago, I will go by myself; ever since Betty Carter at the Bottom Line when Freddie Hubbard made a guest appearance. Go alone. There are not many jazz fans. But the isolation in the crowd allows me to absorb the music, the lights, and the long shadows in the corners. The lights dimmed. Wayne Shorter’s quartet walked out onto the stage. Mr. Shorter walked slowly with a slight bent back and appeared heavier than when I saw him perform at Carnegie Hall at Ron Carter’s 70th birthday celebration. I’ve seen the quartet’s drummer Brian Blade perform at Birdland with Pharaoh Sanders and became a fan. He played on a vintage Gretsch drum kit and from resources the bass is extremely rare. If you have an opportunity to see him, stop everything and go. The man explodes on the stool, kicking and bouncing but maintains a disciplined monk like rhythm. He used a towel at one point, making a soft sound over his bass. The bassist John Patitucci and Brian were going back and forth in union. I was distracted more by watching those two than Shorter who leaned against the grand piano as the pianist Danilo Perez played at times haunting music. The group has played together for ten years, they gelled together, the moment Mr. Shorter raised his two fingers they carried the last song for an extra measure. It appeared as if Shorter had some difficulty with his tenor and switched back to the alto. What distinguishes each performance is Wayne’s ability to create a new sound. His minimal approaches reminded me of Miles Davis, but this group continues to create their own standards.