You Wanted To
Today I took Jeanine out on our first date to the International Jazz Festival. The festival itself was... interesting. The whole jazz aspect was great. Everywhere you went the music was great. But I don't think I'm being cheap for thinking that having to pay $3 for a 20oz Pepsi is a little ludicrous. However, the art on display there was very impressive. It made me wish I had gotten a better paying job much sooner. This one painting in particular that I couldn't stop staring at was a black man playing a piano. In the foreground, there were two figures in the audience watching him, painted in blue. I can't capture it in words, but it was enchanting. Sadly, they prefer cash to human souls, so I came up a bit short.
The main event, or the reason for the jazz festival, was the Dave Brubeck Quartet (and Bill Evans which we didn't stay to see.) Now, the Quartet may only have Dave Brubeck out of all the original members, but at 85 years old he can still tear shit up. If not for the redneck's in the audience (I guess you use the word "festival" and they all just show up), the show would've been one of the most incredible things I've ever experienced. The audience (which was far too big) had little respect for the performance. It was sometimes difficult to hear the music over the chatter, which shouldn't have been the case considering they were playing in a huge outdoor amphitheater with a massive sound system. I wouldn't care if they were at least talking about the music or dancing or something related to the performance but they opted to discuss shoes and hair and the lamp just out in the street and that cloud of smoke over the grill tent and why not randomly applaud your retarded children while you're at it. Jesus, it's a free show, you were fortunate enough not to have to bleed your wallets dry to see one of the greatest jazz quartets of all time, at least have some restraint, you toads.
But when the audience behaved, the show was absolutely incredible. There was a song, I believe it was the third or fourth in their set. It was a song I'd never heard before. It seemed out of place and that's probably what grabbed everyone's attention. It's the only time I'd ever seen a group that large totally enraptured in what they were witnessing. The opening of the song was not jazz. The jazzy element was converted to a dramatic and dynamic piano piece, the love child of Rachmaninoff and Chopin. It was performed with 85 years of passion, soul, and musical competence; a performance that we are likely to never see again. When it all of a sudden segued perfectly into a jazz version of the same song, you could hear the gushing, squishing sounds of hundreds of men and women all simultaneously experiencing the world's largest communal orgasm. It was hot.
Of course, around the end of that song, the pace picked up on useless conversation. The noise pollution level was growing to dangerously annoying levels, so Jeanine and I (already beginning to grow visibly irritated at the noise) left about halfway into the performance to preserve our sanity.
So the show itself was incredible, outdone only by the fact that I got to experience it with Jeanine. I find it hard to believe so many people can't get into jazz, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.
bed time, good night.
The main event, or the reason for the jazz festival, was the Dave Brubeck Quartet (and Bill Evans which we didn't stay to see.) Now, the Quartet may only have Dave Brubeck out of all the original members, but at 85 years old he can still tear shit up. If not for the redneck's in the audience (I guess you use the word "festival" and they all just show up), the show would've been one of the most incredible things I've ever experienced. The audience (which was far too big) had little respect for the performance. It was sometimes difficult to hear the music over the chatter, which shouldn't have been the case considering they were playing in a huge outdoor amphitheater with a massive sound system. I wouldn't care if they were at least talking about the music or dancing or something related to the performance but they opted to discuss shoes and hair and the lamp just out in the street and that cloud of smoke over the grill tent and why not randomly applaud your retarded children while you're at it. Jesus, it's a free show, you were fortunate enough not to have to bleed your wallets dry to see one of the greatest jazz quartets of all time, at least have some restraint, you toads.
But when the audience behaved, the show was absolutely incredible. There was a song, I believe it was the third or fourth in their set. It was a song I'd never heard before. It seemed out of place and that's probably what grabbed everyone's attention. It's the only time I'd ever seen a group that large totally enraptured in what they were witnessing. The opening of the song was not jazz. The jazzy element was converted to a dramatic and dynamic piano piece, the love child of Rachmaninoff and Chopin. It was performed with 85 years of passion, soul, and musical competence; a performance that we are likely to never see again. When it all of a sudden segued perfectly into a jazz version of the same song, you could hear the gushing, squishing sounds of hundreds of men and women all simultaneously experiencing the world's largest communal orgasm. It was hot.
Of course, around the end of that song, the pace picked up on useless conversation. The noise pollution level was growing to dangerously annoying levels, so Jeanine and I (already beginning to grow visibly irritated at the noise) left about halfway into the performance to preserve our sanity.
So the show itself was incredible, outdone only by the fact that I got to experience it with Jeanine. I find it hard to believe so many people can't get into jazz, but whatever floats your boat, I guess.
bed time, good night.