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HOW JAZZ WORKS (List of Characters) Piano: Pianists are intellectuals and know-it-alls. They studied
theory, harmony and composition in college. Most are riddled with self-doubt.
They are usually bald. They should have big hands, but often don't. They
were social rejects as adolescents. They go home after the gig and play
with toy soldiers. Pianists have a special love-hate relationship with
singers. If you talk to the piano player during a break, he will condescend. Bass: Bassists are not terribly smart. The best Bassists come
to terms with their limitations by playing simple lines and rarely soloing.
During the better musical moments, a Bassist will pull his strings hard
and grunt like an animal. Bass players are built big, with paws for hands,
and they are always bent over awkwardly. If you talk to the Bassist during
a break, you will not be able to tell whether or not he's listening. Drums: Drummers are radical. Specific personalities vary, but
are always extreme. A drummer might be the funniest person in the world,
or the most psychotic, or the smelliest. Drummers are uneasy because of
the many jokes about them, most of which stem from the fact that they
aren't really musicians. Pianists are particularly successful at making
drummers feel bad. Most drummers are highly excitable; when excited, they
play louder. If you decide to talk to the drummer during a break, always
be careful not to sneak up on him. Saxophone: Saxophonists think they are the most important players
on stage. Consequently, they are temperamental and territorial. They know
all the Coltrane and Bird licks but have their own sound, a mixture of
Coltrane and Bird. They take exceptionally long solos, which reach a peak
half way through and then just don't stop. They practice quietly but audibly
while other people are trying to play. They are obsessed. Saxophonists
sleep with their instruments, forget to shower, and are mangy. If you
talk to a saxophonist during a break, you will hear a lot of excuses about
his reeds. Trumpet: Trumpet players are image-conscious and walk with a swagger.
They are often former college linebackers. Trumpet players are very attractive
to women, despite the strange indentation on their lips. Many of them
sing; misguided critics then compare them to either Louis Armstrong or
Chet Baker depending whether they're black or white. Arrive at the session
early, and you may get to witness the special trumpet game. The rules
are: play as loud and as high as possible. The winner is the one who plays
loudest and highest. If you talk to a trumpet player during a break, he
might confess that his favorite player is Maynard Ferguson, the merciless
God of loud-high trumpeting. Guitar: Jazz guitarists are never very happy. Deep inside they
want to be rock stars, but they're old and overweight. In protest, they
wear their hair long, prowl for groupies, drink a lot, and play too loud.
Guitarists hate piano players because they can hit ten notes at once,
but guitarists make up for it by playing as fast as they can. The more
a guitarist drinks, the higher he turns his amp. Then the drummer starts
to play harder, and the trumpeter dips into his loud/high arsenal. Suddenly,
the saxophonist's universe crumbles, because he is no longer the most
important player on stage. He packs up his horn, nicks his best reed in
haste, and storms out of the room. The pianist struggles to suppress a
laugh. If you talk to a guitarist during the break he'll ask intimate
questions about your 14-year-old sister. Vocals: Vocalists are whimsical creations of the all-powerful
jazz gods. They are placed in sessions to test musicians' capacity for
suffering. They are not of the jazz world, but enter it surreptitiously.
Example A: young woman is playing minor roles in college musical theater.
One day, a misguided campus newspaper critic describes her singing as
"...jazzy." Viola! A star is born! Quickly she learns "My
Funny Valentine," "Summertime," and "Route 66."
Her training complete, she embarks on a campaign of musical terrorism.
Musicians flee from the bandstand as she approaches. Those who must remain
feel the full fury of the jazz universe. The vocalist will try to seduce
you _ and the rest of the audience _ by making eye contact, acknowledging
your presence, even talking to you between tunes. DO NOT FALL INTO THIS
TRAP! Look away, make your distaste obvious. Otherwise the musicians will
avoid you during their breaks. Incidentally, if you talk to a vocalist
during a break, she will introduce you to her "manager." Trombone: The trombone is known for its pleading, voice-like quality.
"Listen," it seems to say in the male tenor range, "Why
won't anybody hire me for a gig?" Trombonists like to play fast,
because their notes become indistinguishable and thus immune to criticism.
Most trombonists played trumpet in their early years, then decided they
didn't want to walk around with a strange indentation on their lips. Now
they hate trumpet players, who somehow get all the women despite this
disfigurement. Trombonists are usually tall and lean, with forlorn faces.
They don't eat much. They have to be very friendly, because nobody really
needs a trombonist. Talk to a trombonist during a break and he'll ask
you for a gig, try to sell you insurance, or offer to mow your lawn. Picking the Tune: Every time a tune ends, someone has to pick a new one. That's a fundamental concept that, unfortunately, runs at odds with jazz group processes. Tune selection makes a huge difference to the musicians. They love to show off on tunes that feel comfortable, and they tremble at the threat of the unknown. But to pick a tune is to invite close scrutiny: "So this is how you sound at your best. Hmm..." It's a complex issue with unpredictable outcomes. Sometimes no one wants to pick a tune, and sometimes everyone wants to pick a tune. The resulting disagreements lead to faction-building and _ under extreme conditions _ even impromptu elections. The politics of tune selection makes for some of the session's best entertainment. Example 1: No one wants to pick a tune
Example 2: Everyone wants to pick a tune, resulting in impromptu election and eventual tune selection
Not only are these disagreements fun to watch; they create tensions that will
last all through the night. (As an educated audience member, you might
want to keep a flow chart diagramming the shifting alliances. You can
also keep statistics on individual tune-calling. Under no circumstances,
though, should you take sides or yell out song titles. Things are complicated
enough already.) NEW WORDS Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period. Foreploy (n.): Any misrepresentation or outright lie about yourself that leads to sex. Grantartica (n.): The cold, isolated place where art companies dwell without funding. Intaxication (n.): Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts ntil you realize it was your money to start with. Kinstirpation (n.): A painful inability to move
relatives who come to visit. The Jazz Clarinetist A conductor is getting an orchestra together for a performance but is having trouble getting a clarinet player. Finally, he calls a contractor, who tells him, “Well, the only guy I've got available at the moment is this jazz clarinetist.” The conductor replies, “I can't stand working with jazz musicians. They dress lousy, they're always late, and they all have an attitude problem.” “Well,” replies the contractor, “that's all I've got.” “All right,” says the conductor, “I'm getting pretty desperate, so I guess I'll have to take him.” The first rehearsal is a week later. The conductor arrives early and notices the new clarinetist, wearing a suit and tie, with a pencil on his stand, sitting on stage practicing his part. During the rehearsal, the clarinetist plays his part quite well and is responsive to all the conductor's requests. At the second rehearsal, a week later, the same thing happens. This time, the clarinetist turns in a nearly perfect performance. One week later, at the final dress rehearsal, this occurs again, with the clarinetist now playing his part flawlessly. At the break in the rehearsal, the conductor says to the orchestra, “I've
got an apology to make. I was really dreading having to work with a jazz
musician, but I must say that our clarinet player has certainly proved
me wrong. He is always neatly dressed, he was always here early for the
rehearsals, working on the part, and he has really learned the music.”
Then, to the clarinet player, “I just wanted to tell you that I really
appreciate your effort and dedication.” To which the clarinetist
replies, “Hey, it's the least I can do, considering I can't make
the gig.” Jazzed
It
was a balmy night and I was feeling thelonious. I hadn't had any tatum in so
long I could have bixed a choirgirl. But I wouldn't have to - the moment I entered
the Luboff Lounge, the babe with the giant eubies fixed me with a "come
duke me" look. She uncrossed her legs and I could see almost all the way
to birdland. I felt a tingle in my tito puente, and with a smile, I had her.
This was it. No sooner had we closed my front door than this hot django had
grabbed me by the hines and pulled me close. I insinuated my hand under her
sweater until I found one of her brubecks, then I slowly traced a circle around
her lee konitz. "Oh, baby", she cooed, "you make my red norvo
wet." She unzipped my getz, and reached in to cradle my johnny hodges in
her hand. "I'd love a little mingus, darling. My Gillespie is aching."
By this time my king oliver was ready to take a solo; I could hardly wait to
coda, but I obliged her. She hoisted her skirt, and I saw that she wasn't wearing
any basies. I dove right into her satchmo and attacked her lennie tristano.
"Ooh," she moaned, "I want your krupa! Zoot me! Miff me! Fill
my cootie Williams!" I was ready - almost. I felt my pocket. Uh oh. "Sorry,
sweets" I said. No blakey tonight. I'm all out of condons." |