Opening 5/16/2020

One thing that many of us are sorely missing now in the era of Covid quarantining/closures is the experience of live music. In my circles this is multilayered- we miss seeing and participating in live concerts, and we definitely miss performing them ourselves, (from every imaginable standpoint, emotional, spiritual, financial!!!)

As I think about times that music has deeply impacted me, spoke to me, or changed me in some way, so many of these episodes have been in the context of live music, with performers and audience (if these strict categories even apply, often they don’t!) in close proximity, with all the energetic exchange that can and often does happen. Most of us have had experiences of surprising connection and even transcendence in and around live music. I want to share the story of one incredible moment (and I use “incredible” not just in a “generic-word-for-really-great” sense but literally “hard-to-believe”).

The Kenny Garrett Quintet performed at the Mainstage of the ’62 Center at Williams College on September 28, 2017.
Some background:[1]

Kenny Garrett (born October 9, 1960) [2] is the greatest living alto saxophonist, (against any metric of your choosing) and among the top 5 in jazz history. Please, please PLEASE fight me. [3]

You can and should deeply dive into all of his recordings as a leader and sideman. He’s been the most influential and popular voice on the alto saxophone (which is also my primary instrument) for nearly the last 40 years. I don’t want to use any more space listing his bona fides; please go listen to anything at all that he’s ever released, or (when it’s possible) catch his group on tour. There will be zero duds, zero off nights.

Kenny is a personal musical hero of mine, and I’m grateful to have had the chance to get to know him a little bit over the years. One of the most memorable days of my young life was a having the opportunity to play a session with him, helping him try out new music-(me playing his parts on saxophone, he on piano, along with several other young musicians playing string parts as Kenny work-shopped material for a “Bird with Strings” style project that never materialized.) That day I floated.[4]

When I started my current teaching position as Artist-in-Residence in Jazz at Williams College, Kenny was at the top of the list of folks whom I dreamed of getting to come to campus to interact with and perform for my students and the larger community. One small but fun task in my job is to recommend visiting performers, usually two jazz artists per year. This is something about which I think hard, plan very far ahead in advance, and have very specific goals and standards, and predictably I receive so many solicitations from booking agents. [5]

I was thrilled that all worked out and it was arranged for Kenny to bring his then-current quintet to Williams in the fall of 2017. The band featured Kenny on alto and soprano sax, Corcoran Holt on bass, Vernell Brown on piano, Marcus Baylor on drumset, and Rudy Bird on percussion and vocalese. The group arrived very early and the afternoon was spent adjusting equipment, sound-checking, chatting with students in an open-rehearsal format, resting and eating a meal together. Kenny had flown to this gig directly from his father’s funeral in Detroit, and the few of us who were aware of this allowed him a respectful space during any downtime. At the conclusion of the soundcheck he sat at the piano and proceeded to play a 45- minute medley meditation that drifted through at least 25 standard American songbook tunes, up until and beyond the last available minute when the house doors were opened. He seemed absolutely lost inside the music. [6]

The concert began an hour later, and the band opened with “Philly,”the first track off Kenny’s (still) most recent studio album “Do Your Dance.” After the pensive piano intro, the anthemic shout of the melody exploded into the room, overwhelming the sound system, and sending the two hired audio engineers scurrying to make adjustments.[7] Kennys solo whipped up frenzy for in excess of 10 minutes, calling upon his personal post-Coltrane language to wind currents of shifting pentatonic pyramids and ascending to ecstatic altissimo screams. The intensity (and sheer volume) was overwhelming, quite literally for a large portion of the audience. About 1/3 of the crowd got up and left during or immediately after this first, nearly 20 -minute piece.

Let me pause here. (Doesn’t sound like a transcendent concert experience is anywhere in sight at this point, does it?)

I want to fully paint the scene from the point of view of Kenny and his group.

As I said, I don’t bring just any artists to my school, not even just any world class performers. I have to also have a sense that folks under consideration are generous, kind, compassionate and skilled communicators, and are comfortable interacting with students. No one that I have ever contracted in this way has ever been anything but gracious and professional. That having been said, I also recognize that in the context of an upper-echelon touring schedule, a concert at Williams College fits the category of a “filler” for many bands who visit. It’s not a prestigious European festival or a weeks run at a New York club. There’s no particular reason for these folks to get excited about playing at Williams; it’s another adequately paying gig for a smallish, usually appreciative audience. Sometimes I have a personal or professional connection (there really is no meaningful distinction between the two in the wider jazz world) and the arrangement carries a tinge of the other performer “doing me a favor.” This reality can’t help but, in some way, at some times, seep into the demeanor of some performers. Right off the bat, I could tell that this was not the case with Kenny and his group. He seemed to be playing with an urgency that said “end of the world” “your life depends on it” etc….

Now about the folks leaving (and let me say clearly, I don’t begrudge anyone leaving a concert that they aren’t enjoying for any reason, this isn’t about that.)

Concerts of this type at the school predictably draw about 200-250 people. Of those, roughly 40 will be students, possibly another 40 will be members of the college community, faculty and staff and family members. The remainder (majority) is comprised of other folks from the surrounding community, and almost entirely of advanced age. Several local retirement homes arrange for transportation to and from our music department events, and we are very grateful for this important participation. I’ve made many friends from among the “regulars” and always am happy to see them. There is such a huge and diverse range of musical styles encompassed under the term “jazz” that it is very possible for someone to attend a concert expecting one very beloved thing and being confronted with something vastly different. Without wading too far into dangerous generalization, one can see trends of preference among jazz sub-genres that map onto age. Clearly the style and volume of Kenny’s band was far enough out of the comfort zones of many and they made for the door.

So, in summary, this band is playing in an out-of-the-way college town, to a meager-looking audience (maybe 200 folks in a room that seats at least four times that number) and more than a third of that has left during the first song. If performance is truly a two-way exchange of energy, the band was receiving zilch, and it didn’t seem to matter in the least. This focus and raw spirit over the course of the entire set were so convicting to me, in a way that left me reflecting and processing long after the fact. Kenny’s example on that evening brought awareness of a subtle, creeping detachment and ho-humness that had been growing in me with regard to my own performing; a surfeit of the wrong kind of comfort. I came away from this night wanting to reclaim a sense of immediacy and abandon that had permeated my early years of relationship with this music.

However, the mysterious and incredible moment that I teased earlier wasn’t just personal to me but shared with every soul in that room.

The second piece that the band played was “Realization – Marching Towards the Light” off of Kenny’s 2006 album “Beyond the Wall” [8]

“Realization” begins with a low monotone chant intoned by the whole band, and a simple melody is patiently layered on top of a slow meditative ¾ groove. As on “Philly,” everyone was stretching out, and this song also must have gone on for close to 20 minutes, sinking into the simple Db minor mantra. I remember several moments in which Kenny wrangled some dry, scratchy sounds out of the alto that I could not comprehend.

The song ended in the most gradual and controlled fade, with percussion, drums, and bass dropping out in turn, leaving Kenny and pianist Vernell Brown to nurse the vamp to its conclusion. I’ve never witnessed such a long and effective decrescendo. The two continued on for minutes, wringing more and more color and story than anyone would have thought possible out of the simple dirge, all at a barely-above a whisper dynamic. During this time Kenny was visibly anguished, transported, his expression sorrowful. At times he took one hand off the instrument, placing it on his heart[9] at others put it down entirely and pointed his finger and gaze up to a spot in the empty balcony. As you read this you may be picturing the scene, and what I’m describing may not sound all that different from rock-star-as-usual bodily theatrics, but this was another thing altogether. He was present and emotionally raw in a way that was transfixing; no calculation, affectation or even habit about it.

The sound of the piano and saxophone attenuated so slowly that the precise end seemed to never come, even after it had. Then, silence.

As sociological phenomena, concerts tend to somewhat blindly follow a certain ritualized pattern of behavior, with audiences knowing or figuring out on short order what is expected of them, and acting in kind. At jazz performances in particular, it’s not uncommon for the audience to smell the end of a piece around the corner in the form of a certain harmonic cadence or dramatic slowing of a phrase, and begin to applaud even before the piece has ended in earnest. Then, there are other times, when a performance conjures such a luminous spell that there ensues a delicious breath-length pause between the last note and the first hand-clap. That’s what happened here,

only no one clapped, or made a sound, or moved a muscle.

We, all simply sat in silence for a minute, then another….and another…what seemed like an eternity. Kenny was still, and his gaze still settled high above all of us. No applause, or even whispered chatter or fidgeting. The music wasn’t over yet.

I of course was perceiving and receiving Kenny’s clearly communicated sorrow in light of the conversation we had had about his father’s passing, but everyone in the room, none the wiser, knew it just as well. This whole episode had seemed to usher a timelessness into the space, but I would estimate (and also having discussed this with others who had been present) that we all sat motionless in that room for at least 3 or 4 minutes, just together, quiet, and….nothing else.

I have been a part of a lot of concerts but never before or since have I seen or felt anything like this. I’m a bit nervous that you won’t believe me!

Something had happened in the room through Kenny and his music that none dared disturb. Thinking back now, I’m marveling at the unanimity of that moment… it would have taken just one person out of the 150-or-so still gathered there, just one person who was less than 100% absorbed, maybe one student just there to fulfill a class assignment, scrolling social media in their lap, just one person to simply clap their hands just as they had for every single musical performance since kindergarten, just one hand-clap and the veil of solemnity and human weight in that space would have quickly evaporated. But no one did. I’m also marveling at Kenny, who was so unselfconscious as to give himself over to what he was feeling among complete strangers. (As the natural focal point in the room he really had veto power over the moment; indeed, at last it was his turning and walking toward the microphone that occasioned the release of applause.) It wasn’t even aggressive applause, but rather a tentative trickle; still tempered by residual awe. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better lesson for the students or myself than the one Kenny and all of us taught each other, and I suppose this is all my attempt to put some words to it.

The larger release came with the next tune- one of Kenny’s most popular and often played, “Happy People.” As I had seen him do on a number of occasions, Kenny asked for the house lights to be raised and demanded that all butts be extricated from their seats! I’m pretty sure that the eagerness with which we all (even the dance-shy like myself) complied was due to what we had just experienced.

I can’t honestly recall the specifics of the rest of the set even thought it was only half over at this point! I think that I was likely still taken aback by the sacred gap that had opened up in the middle of what could have been just another by-the book excellent concert of jazz music. I couldn’t wait to stand up, turn to those around me, and ask a question that I’m also asking you now, a question that in some way sums up my motivation for seeking and sustaining a life in and around music:

What was THAT????

Part of what makes this moment so rich to me is its uniqueness and unrepeatability; there’s nothing of it I can really share with you. However here are two full length concerts of Kenny’s band- the first is the closest available (calendar-wise) to the Williams concert, and the other is a classic from the early 1990’s that I’ve watched so many times, featuring my good friend and mentor Nat Reeves, Kenny Kirkland (who has been discussed in both previous entries to this blog series) and Jeff “Tain” Watts.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PFNTM9aKGNY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVrb2uaOXC0&t=83s

[1] Don’t you hate it when you look up a recipe online and you have to scroll through pages of extra pictures and testimonial about how great this food/recipe is, and you’re thinking “ can I just see the dang recipe already, I just need the stinking oven temp!!!!” My bad.

[2] If you’re unfamiliar, just to get it out of the way, this is NOT the artist known as “Kenny G” whose birth name is actually Kenneth Gorelick. Not going to touch that one.

[3] Now that we’re fighting, here’s my opening combination. The ONLY reason that you may now be experiencing a knee-jerk reaction, overriding your critical faculties, is because of years of conditioning by the unproductive jazz-historicism myth that relegates everything that happened post-1969 to lesser relevance. Wake up and deal with the “Real Kenny G!”

[4] Thanks Nat Reeves for making that happen!

[5] No more solicitations please!

[6] I recall one concert of KG that I attended at the Iron Horse in Northampton MA, the first time that I witnessed his wonderful piano playing. Imagine me, coming to see one of my saxophonic idols perform, only to have him play piano for more than half the night, and to be not disappointed in the least! That’s how good of a pianist he is.

[7] As almost always happens, folks had played at one decibel level during soundcheck, but the real deal was a whole other thing….seems like a basic mistake but adrenaline is something else, I know I’m guilty

[8] This beautiful record is themed around Chinese culture and features not his regular touring group but an all-star assemblage of performers including my dear friend, percussionist Rogerio Boccato

[9]Yup, you can still play quite a big percentage of the notes on the saxophone one- handed