Today is Paul Desmond's Birthday
In previous years I babbled on about Mr. Desmond on his birthday or the anniversary of his death.
This year I'll take only four minutes of your time.
Listen to this.
Labels: Alto Saxophone, Paul Desmond
Comments and journal pages.
In previous years I babbled on about Mr. Desmond on his birthday or the anniversary of his death.
This year I'll take only four minutes of your time.
Listen to this.
Labels: Alto Saxophone, Paul Desmond
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| Never throw away any picture. We are all we have. ![]() That’s okay. The memory of listening to her play live comes back just as well with this shot as with any other. As my wife and others will attest, when I hear a really talented musician or a really wonderful performance, I tend to weep. Yes, I know. As I sat in the dark at an after-hours jam session during an Ottawa Jazz Festival, I was often a bit misty eyed. Talented musicians, relaxed before a small audience, played as they felt, often only for their own appreciation. Good stuff. One such night, a young fellow played an alto sax solo backed with rhythm and piano. His technique was good, polished; his chorus was fresh and welcome. Then as he finished, he unhooked the alto from its neck strap and handed it to a red-haired girl standing just out of the spotlight. ![]() After a couple hearty solo piano choruses, 19 year old Alison Young stepped into the light and began to play that same alto sax. And tears came instantly to my eyes. Yes, I was impressed. It was the same saxophone but nothing else was the same. Her tone and range set her apart. Her attack and enthusiasm made it fascinating. Most of all, her inventiveness kept the listener sitting up straight. I’ll never forget it. When she finished we all realized we had been holding our collective audience breath.
Never throw away any moment. We are all we have. |
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Labels: Alison Young, Alto Saxophone, jazz, Ottawa Jazz Festival
![]() | Essential to our essence. ![]() Charles "Bird" Parker, Jr. was born today in 1920. Sometimes things just go right. Without Mr. Parker we just wouldn’t be where we are today. |
Labels: Alto Saxophone, bird, bop, Charlie Parker, icon
![]() | Volunteering at the Ottawa Jazz Festivals for three or four years was a fun thing for those times. Volunteering 16 or 20 hours of time got a free pass to go to any of the festival shows and events: A fair trade. The festivals last for ten days in July. Many famous and legendary musicians attended and performed in those years. The main stage hosts a sparkling train of stars. Some are relatively novice, introducing new sounds, new arrangements, new approaches to the music. Others were already well known by the echoes from the vinyl canyons of 12 inch microgroove records, in layers of years and years and years.
There were many outdoor concerts but the favorite time was the late night jam sessions in a meeting room at the Ramada Inn near Confederation Park. There was no stage. It was about 90 people sitting at tables in a semi-circle around the performers. Many of the sidemen and leaders would show up there, in different combinations. They would combine their instruments, their techniques, their talents in various ways to produce some of the liveliest and interesting music ever heard. But then, that is the unique quality of jazz: It is never the same way twice. It is ever new. After attending those sessions so many years in a row, memory has begun to blur them into one long session with too many musicians to remember. ![]()
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At various times the jam sessions included, Ravi Coltrane, members of the Basie Band, John Pizzarelli, a half dozen from Sandoval’s band, a couple from the Yellow Jackets or Maria Schneider’s band. Sometimes the room was half musicians. Those who wanted, played. Those who didn’t listened. Some years included Jane Bunnett, Lavay Smith, Cleo Lane, Lou Donaldson, Brad Mehldau, Nnenna Freelon, Masekela and Hassan Hakmoun and his sinter and heck, too many, too many, too many to remember. There were many memorable performances and musicians, but none, NONE, sticks any more than one young girl, a local from Ottawa. Alison Young usually strode into the room, sat for a bit with her attitude and her pout. She examined the scene, absorbing. John Geggie would finally coax her to sit in. She would eventually give in and play a set. It was always a treat. She borrowed an alto sax or sometimes brought her own. She could fit in any combination group but sounded best with just Geggie, Walker and Haynes backing her. ![]() Now here is what was so memorable about her: This lady here plays a fine lot of jazz. It is one of those incongruities that the mind has trouble digesting. The stun is witnessing phrasing and technique indicating decades of practice and study, coming from a girl too young to have done any of that. She played alto with an authority and command that was beyond her short years. She was too young to have learned those changes, those runs. Watching Alison Young perform with the facility and inventiveness of a much more mature musician makes the mind grasp for explanations. She must have simply been born with the experience; she couldn’t develop it in such a short time, could she? Are we discussing reincarnation here? Did a valuable, restless, ethereal piece of some long-gone jazz musician attach itself to her aura when she was born? Or maybe all of it? Are we hearing Parker, Desmond, Pepper? Trumbauer? The professional jazz musicians in the room would pause and stare and then look at each other. They heard it too. This kid here has some fine chops. One of the following years, while strolling an Ottawa side street, the sounds of jazz came tumbling through a pub door. There was a live five piece band in the corner and yes, it was Alison Young on alto. Seeing her in a working environment enhanced the appreciation of her abilities. The stroll was postponed until the set was over. In 2001 there was a little additional volunteer work at Judy Humenick’s Jazz Camp, then held at Christie Lake near Perth, Ontario. Several seasoned jazz musicians such as Rob Frayne, Floyd Standifer, Frank Lozano and Nancy Walker assembled at the lake side campground cabins with a number of jazz hopefuls and students just to rub shoulders and have clinic sessions and then, a final concert. They were short some kitchen help so that’s where the volunteers filled in. During the day the musicians divided up into groups, percussion, vocal, reeds and worked with the pro on their techniques. If one wandered anywhere near the reed session, Alison Young could be heard, unmistakably. ![]() On the last day of the camp, a collective concert was given. Spouses, friends, parents and the volunteers gathered in the main building and fought for seats. Alison’s mother attended and chatted a bit. She could be seen at once as a proud mother of a very talented girl and frustrated mother of a young woman with a mind of her own. I told her that I thought her daughter was a genius. An apprehensive glint passed quickly from her face as it sunk in that I was sincere. Then she smiled and said, “Well, she’s a handful.” I never saw her again. Each group performed what they had been rehearsing. Alison dominated her set easily. Then the professionals and teachers jammed one last time. The pros all had CD’s to sell. The volunteers ran a brisk business at the CD sales table. And the Jazz Camp was over for another year. At the last Ottawa Jazz Festival attended it was learned that Alison would be moving to Toronto to continue studies. Here is another link about the VERNON ISAAC MEMORIAL SCHOLARSHIP(VIMS). You can hear her by going to her Myspace Page and clicking on this treatment of “Oh Lonesome Me.” Alison is heard in the sax solo at the end. This sound is perhaps somewhat in the style of the solo by..is it Lenny Picket(?) in the SNL closing theme. Moving and iconic in the very least. I ranted about this artist previously here... |
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Labels: Alison Young, Alto Saxophone, jazz, Ottawa Jazz Festival
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Labels: Alto Saxophone, Brubeck quartet, jazz, Music, Paul Desmond
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| There was something about the complexity, the inventiveness, the originality that appealed to me.
![]() There’s a single cut “Old Croix” on an album called Jazz West Coast Vol. III from Jazztone J1274. (A rather scarce album probably.) And there’s more than a few appearances with groups headed by other musicians. Alto saxophonists have always appealed to me. The tone and flexibility of the instrument and the individuality it can have depending on who plays, are factors. Another blog about him here... and Here.... I never got to see Art Pepper in person. But there have been others.
![]() And then there was the time that I clung to the edge of a stage in a large Kansas dance hall, looking up at the Ellington band. I watched Johnny Hodges sleep through the section parts of an Ellington classic. Then suddenly he was wide awake. He rose to the microphone to glide through a couple solo choruses, sat down again and drifted off again. He had been doing it for more than 30 years.
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Labels: Alison Young, Alto Saxophone, Art Pepper, jazz, Music