Blog News:

7.17.07

I had a revelation, people. I guess it's true what the say about when the student is ready...

I'd been working on the Sade covers with Jazz guitar I'd always wanted to do. I'd gone to Chicago and played with some fantastic Latin musicians. I found my sweet practice spot in a local park. I don't know what else I did right, but here's how a teacher appeared:

The Redstone Room, a venue at the River Music Experience, hosts a Jazz series on the third Sunday of every month. I had just done a smooth jazz show with Frank Drew the night before where I was on percussion but also did some vocal ad libs. This month's Jazz workshop was on scat singing so I decided to go. 

I walk in a little early and there are a couple of stately black gents sitting there and I get introduced as a singer. One of the older gents stands up, shakes my hand and bows. Wow right there. I'm told his name is Don Meade and that the singer who will be running the workshop is one of his protoges. 

He begins talking about the old days and how he's been there to coach some singers. He mentions a list of first names: Carmen, Ella, Sarah and some others.

Mr. Meade then promptly gives me a 10 minute masterclass that blows my hair back.

"There are so many kinds of music nowadays, blues or jazz or world, hip-hop or whatever," he says. "But when people ask you what you do, you just say you're a musician. And when they ask you what kind of music you do, tell them you do 'weddings, funerals, bar mitzvas and that sort of thing,' and that you're just trying to pay the bills."

"People are trying to blow the world up nowadays" he says. I gathered this to mean literally as well as with myriad musical categories. "So learn love songs. People always want to know more about love," he says. "When doing a show, always leave room for three songs from the Great American Songbook. Learn a bit about the songwriters and how the songs came about."

"Pay attention and listen. Even a fool can teach you something: he can teach you how not to end up a fool like him."

He said it all just like that. Like he had his lesson plan packed tight.

Sure enough, musicians from New York and Chicago start streaming in with hugs and tears and call him Papa. When the singer comes out to do her workshop, he leads her onto the stage like a father-of-the-bride down the aisle at a wedding. As she teaches, she asks him for confirmation on some obscure jazz facts. And he knows. ____________