shhhhh

I am old school jazz singer. There are only a handful of us left. I came up in the “real east coast jazz houses” swingin, with just enough grit and bop. I learned my craft from cats that couldn’t read a damn note and knew every tune in every key, some drank like fish’s and other things we don’t need to mention and played with a passion, like their life depended on it. The crowds screamed with glee and excitement cheering us on higher and higher. There were jazz clubs like that in every town. Your feet stuck to the rug and Billy and Ella and Dizzy poured from the juke box. Steam rolled out onto the street while the musicians played till dawn. (By the way there is still a jazz club like this in my neck of the woods called “Green Pastures” in Elmira N.Y.). Things have changed and the music is mostly played “in concert” and mainstream jazz rooms. The crowd is told to be quiet during the performance. Not because we don’t want some feedback but simply because they talk. As a musician I can tell you there’s a big difference between a room that is buzzing because they are physically and emoitionally involved with the music and a room of noisy listeners that don’t “get it”. We have come to this and it is necessary at this juncture but man do I ever miss hearing “Yeah Baby”or“Amen”or“You go Girl”, pushing the music to higher heights with levels of excitement that have now been forced almost into remission. The environment has become sterile and the “lost chord” may never be found. The days of spontaneous acknowledgement are all but gone.