The 2014 First Annual Colligan Awards

Since I've been on the subject of movies lately, one great film I saw recently was "Birdman," an incredible vehicle for Michael Keaton, who plays a former action star trying to produce a darkly serious play while trying to keep his dark mental difficulties at bay. The acting by Keaton and co-stars which include Edward Norton, Zach Galafanakis, and Emma Stone, is solid. However, the cinematography and special effects are absolutely amazing. Furthermore, the musical score, which is mostly solo drum set, really blew me away. It sounds somewhat improvised, but it really fits the emotion of the story, as any good score should. ( When I think of my disappointment with "Whiplash," it's nice to hear truly great drumming in a movie.)

I recently discovered that jazz great Antonio Sanchez is responsible for the score for

"Birdman." I also discovered that his score was rejected by the Academy of Motion Pictures for consideration for an Academy Award. Sanchez' fans are wondering why. The reasons the Academy gives have to do with the amount of original music related to known songs, I think bottom line it's because the Academy is stupid. And racist. And just plain evil. Do I think the Academy and it's members are worse than Hitler? That would be pushing it a bit too far. So then the answer is yes. 

Antonio Sanchez is an incredible drummer, having played with Pat Metheny, Chick Corea, Miguel Zenon, and plenty more of the heavyweights. He's very successful as a musician, so I'm betting that he could probably care less about whether he is snubbed by the aforementioned Worse-Than-Hitler-Academy of Motion Pictures. However, since so many of these awards are so pointless and arbitrary, I'm starting my own Awards.

Good Evening And Welcome to the The 2014 First Annual Colligan Awards. I'm your host, Ellen DeGeneres. We have a really great show for you. We have many special guest, and so many great song and dance number. I have lots of great joke(Rim Shot)......ahem..... Moving right along, presenting the award for Best Musical Score is Jack Black.

Jack Black: ( In a loud, rock and roll type voice) Hey everybody, the nominees for Best Musical Score are:

Antonio Sanchez for "Birdman"(Roll Clip)
"Birdman," Antonio Sanchez (Roll Clip)
(Roll Different Clip)
" Big Momma's House 13," Kanye West ( Roll Clip.....Ugh..)
" Indian Jones and the Quest To Find A Good Hip Replacement Surgeon," John Williams( Roll Clip, I guess...)
Antonio Sanchez for "Birdman"(Roll Clip)

And the Colligan Award goes to......
Antonio Sanchez for "Birdman!" 

( This is Antonio Sanchez' first Colligan Award....)

Anyway, I have a vivid imagination. I recommend the film, Antonio Sanchez got robbed, and F the Academy. 




“What's with all these awards? They're always giving out awards. Best Fascist Dictator: Adolf Hitler.”
Annie Hall (1977) – Alvy Singer (Woody Allen)

“Awards are like hemorrhoids. Sooner or later every asshole gets one.”
Swimming Pool (2003) – Sarah Morton (Charlotte Rampling)

Ouch: Portland Loses Another Jazz Venue

I realize it's still a bit raw, but I wanted to express my disappointment at the news tonight that Camellia Lounge in Portland, as of September 6th, will no longer have jazz music. I'm especially bummed because it was one of the few venues in Portland that would essential book me at will(thanks to curator Laura Stilwell) and also it was a venue where I could bring in student groups and give them valuable performing experience. Furthermore, Portland has lost a number of venues just this year; Ivories, The Blue Monk, Shaker and Vine, The Mission Theater( they decided they would make more money as a movie theater) and Quartet. It would not be exactly correct to say that they all ended because of jazz music's lack of popularity; many of these venues had a host of other problems besides trying to present something besides crappy "indie" music(which is a legitimate genre, so I'm told). In the end, business is business and the restaurant and club business is not easy.(That's why every time I think, "yeah, I'll open my own place," I then think," yeah, financial ruin would probably suck.")

I suppose what I can't figure out is that in the case of Camellia Lounge, why would they stop the music when they didn't seem to really be paying for it anyway? I always thought it was a door gig. The band took whatever came in from the door, plus tips. I never found it to be lucrative; even when the place was packed, it wasn't a huge money maker for musicians. Still, it was a place to play where the booking didn't seem to be locked up for a handful of regulars.  My question is, now, without music, do the new owners think that anybody will go there for dinner? I don't know, maybe the music drove more people away than it brought in? I would be curious to see where they are at in a few months. Maybe they will come crawling back to us, "please come back, it's dead without the music!"

One thing that drummer Sam Foulger pointed out on the positive side is that:

 It's good to remember that half the venues we're talking about didn't have live music five years ago (some of them weren't even open yet). Ordinary, but determined, people made them into performance spaces. There will be more if we make them.

This is why I'm expressing my frustration, but only so that I can get it out of my system and move on. There are still places to play and still places that could have more playing. We still need to get people to come out to shows more, and support the scene so that the venues we still have continue to thrive. I'm for hitting the streets to find some new places. Even if we have to rent a space, or have a concert at PSU, or have it in my backyard, or even in my tiny living room, I'll keep trying to find places to play. 

Satire

Sonny Rollins, Jazz Master

I enjoy a good joke as much as anyone. I also consider myself open minded in terms of humor. I enjoy a wide spectrum of comedy, from Monty Python to Martin Lawrence, from Jerry Seinfeld to Andrew Dice Clay, from Dave Chappelle to Ellen DeGeneres and everything in between. However, sometimes, the joke just doesn't work. Worse than a joke not working is when it's unclear whether it's a joke or not, or unclear for which audience the joke is intended. Case in point, the recent New Yorker piece, "Sonny Rollins: In His Own Words"   is supposed to be satirical( which is why the editor makes a note of it at the top of the article). The article was actually written by Django Gold, a senior writer for The Onion, which is a fake news magazine that I usually think is hilarious. Unfortunately, Gold was somehow way off on this one; writing as if it's Rollins giving an interview, Gold is more sophomoric and absurd than clever.

Jazz might be the stupidest thing anyone ever came up with. The band starts a song, but then everything falls apart and the musicians just play whatever they want for as long they can stand it. People take turns noodling around, and once they run out of ideas and have to stop, the audience claps. I’m getting angry just thinking about it.

I released fifty-odd albums, wrote hundreds of songs, and played on God knows how many session dates. Some of my recordings are in the Library of Congress. That’s idiotic. They ought to burn that building to the ground. I hate music. I wasted my life.

I can see what Gold was trying to do: make Rollins say something so extremely the opposite of what he would say that it would potentially be hilarious. As if I wrote something like, "Ronald Reagan: In His Own Words," and wrote something like:

That whole thing about "Government isn't the solution, it's the problem," was just kind of a joke. Tip O'Neil came up with it one night while we were having dinner at the Old Ebbitt Grill. We had consumed about 2 bottles of vodka between us when he blurted it out, as well as something about "trickle down economics," which was probably more to do with vodka trickling down his shirt. After I gave that silly inaugural address, Republicans took that sound byte and really ran with it. I was just trying to be funny, kind of break the ice a little bit. But everyone was taking it so seriously. I guess I was just too embarrassed to admit that it wasn't true.

Iran-Contra? Of course I knew about it. Truth be told, I went to college with the Ayatolla Khomeini. Back then , he was know as Freddie, Freddie Khomeini. We used to hang out all the time in the late 50's. Now that I think of it, he still owes me 26 dollars. So sure, 1979 rolls around, I called in a favor. Obviously, the Tehran Hostage Crisis makes incumbent president Jimmy Carter look bad, and then, bam, I got to be President for 8 years. Oliver North took the heat, saying I didn't know anything, of course, but  in truth I knew every detail. I masterminded the entire thing from day one. This is all off the record, right? 

Anyway, whether you think that's funny, or even know who Ronald Reagan was, hopefully you see my point. In my example, it's quite clear that it's a joke, and it  references in an attempt to be clever as  well as relevant. Perhaps there are a few key differences. One is the person being lampooned. Ronald Reagan is, sadly, way more famous than Sonny Rollins because he was a major political and historical figure, and people who were politically aware during the 80's would possibly get a chuckle from the specific references( trickle down, Khomeini, Oliver North, etc...). The Rollins piece has some nice references, but the tone is perhaps not consistent enough to make sense. It's so on the absurdist side of things.

The saxophone sounds horrible. Like a scared pig. I never learned the names of most of the other instruments, but they all sound awful, too. Drums are O.K., because sometimes they’ll drown out the other stuff, but it’s all pretty bad.

Now, maybe if this had appeared in The Onion, it would have been fine. I think it's appearance in the New Yorker is just confusing. Maybe also, it's a little bit too close to home because let's face it, the vast majority of people probably think the saxophone sounds horrible. In that sense it would be like a comedian trying to tell Israeli-Palestinian jokes 3 weeks from now: "TOO SOON!"  ( Although my piece may perhaps ring a bit to true for some folks as well....)

As to be expected, after this piece was published, Facebook lit up like midtown Manhattan on Christmas Eve. Jazz musicians were angry. Even Sonny Rollins himself chimed in! Spike Wilner, jazz pianist and proprietor of Small's wrote a letter to The New Yorker:

Not only was it not funny but also vague enough to be construed that it was actually “his own words”.  Mr. Rollins is one of the most beloved figures in jazz, renown for his uncompromising artistic integrity.  Why at age 83 after a lifetime dedicated to the music he loves and champions he needs to be the subject of ridicule in your magazine is beyond me.  Instead, the New Yorker should publish a profile celebrating the life and accomplishments of this great American artist.  Jazz is already a much maligned and misunderstood art form.  An article like this does a great disservice to the music and the musicians who spend their lives playing it and is beneath the stature of your magazine.

I believe Wilner hits it right on the nose. Hey, New Yorker, what other beloved elderly figures are  next on the list to lampoon? Mother Teresa? Benny Golson? Jasper Johns? Mikhail Gorbachev? Hopefully, no one is missing why this article, while not a crime against humanity, was certainly in poor taste.

As to be expected, Nicholas Payton had an understandably harsh and extremely well written view of the article:

Here’s one of the most respected American periodicals posting a picture of a somber-faced Sonny with a piece “in his own words,” rhapsodizing about how he hates music and he’s wasted his life. Where’s the humor in that?

I get that White people and Black people have cultural differences and thus a different sense of humor. Given that to be the case, White people: stick to satirizing those who get your sense of humor. Leave Black people be. You’ve done enough over the past 500 years. Black life in a world of White oppression and supremacy is satirical enough. We don’t need your help adding to it.

And maybe Payton goes off on a tangent a little in this next bit, but it's actually pretty on point:

Meanwhile in Rolling Stone magazine, a real article came out that reads like satire. Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga are doing a “Jazz” album. Tony goes on in this piece to say about Gaga, “She’s as good as Ella Fitzgerald…”
Nigga, please?! Lady Gaga ain’t fit to wear Ella’s dirty draws.

 Indeed, if somebody came out and said, " Kenny G's just as good as Charlie Parker," it would be hard not to want to kick their ass. Even if they were elderly. (I think Tony Bennett might be a little foggy on what Ella Fitzgerald actually sounded like...)

Payton's viewpoint brings it all home. Sonny Rollins as an elder statesman of jazz enjoys success which few musicians attain; however, as an African American living through decades of inequality in the United States, Rollins has endured things to which white people just cannot relate. It seems as though the younger generations, becoming farther removed from the Civil Rights Movement, are less aware of the scars of history. Furthermore, the American Idolization of our culture makes people less aware of the origins of American music as well (which is why the top R&B artists these days seem to be all white). To have to hear Tony Bennett say that about Lady Gaga is so outrageous, and yet, it seems as though nonsense is happening all around us and we've all just come to accept it. Big Corporations don't pay any taxes, innocent people die every day, incredibly mediocre actors and musicians become millionaires while ACTUAL TALENT becomes more of a liability than an asset. There's the real joke. 

You would think with all of this mishagos, the writing world would get the message: " Hey, jazz musicians find this offensive, and you are just going to piss people off. Find literally anything else to do a satirical piece on. Leave music and musicians whom are fighting for survival out of it." Well, apparently Justin Moyer didn't get the memo; his piece for The Washington Post, "All That Jazz Isn't All That Great" seems at first like trying to jump on some sort of anti- jazz bandwagon:

Jazz is boring.
Jazz is overrated.
Jazz is washed up.
Unlike a poorly received New Yorker piece purportedly written by jazz great Sonny Rollins, this is not satire.

Though Gold’s piece elicited an angry response from Rollins and outrage under the Twitter hashtag #rollinstruth, it was, as they say, funny because it was true. Jazz has run out of ideas, and yet it’s still getting applause.

I studied jazz while an undergraduate at Wesleyan University and had the privilege of learning from, at varying distances, some of the genre’s great performers and teachers, including Anthony Braxton, Pheeroan akLaff and Jay Hoggard. I appreciated that these generous African American men deigned to share their art at a quite white New England liberal-arts school. But I just didn’t get their aesthetic. Like cirrus clouds or cotton candy, I found jazz generically pleasing, but insubstantial and hard to grasp.

Moyer goes on to write a laundry list of reasons for why jazz, a kind of music which motivated him to pursue a degree,  is so boring. For example:

2. Improvisation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
The knowledge that great music is improvised makes it more remarkable. But the fact that music is improvised doesn’t make it great. If it did, Phish and the Grateful Dead would be better than they are.

“Even when they are not soloing, members of a jazz band have to be intimately attuned to the music at all times because they never know what direction it might take,” according to Loren Schoenberg, a conductor and saxophonist writing in conjunction with the Ken Burns documentary “Jazz.” “If you don’t, you may, as John Coltrane once put it, feel as though you stepped into an empty elevator shaft.”

Unfortunately, rather than providing the thrill of standing at a precipice, improvisation by the likes of serviceable, forgettable, uncontroversial players such as guitarist Wes Montgomery is perfect for browsing at Barnes and Noble — or piping into elevators.

Unlike the New Yorker piece, there is a clear statement that " this is not satire" within the first few sentences. You could imagine that this would create even more animosity in the jazz community.

Look, we already know, and have known for a long time, that jazz after 1940 is not universally loved. It doesn't mean we shouldn't be true to our own musical aspirations. My feeling is that these days, jazz musicians are doing it because they love it, because they believe it's important, and they love to play for the small but passionate audiences(mostly in Europe and Asia) who know and love this music and don't find it boring. We aren't doing it to get rich. We do it for what one might say are more noble reasons than many other so called "popular" styles. Indeed, so many "hip hop" artists , in a genre which at one time had an incredible political awareness, now mostly rap about how rich they are or  how rich they wanna be, or just how great they are. Many of today's music stars seem to be pretty faces that are part of a huge "music industry", and yet calling them "musicians" would seem rather ironic.

I realize we are a capitalist nation, but there is still a difference between being a professional artist on one side and being a sell-out on the other side. Why won't we read articles lampooning Katy Perry, or Kayne West? Why won't we read overly intellectual opinion pieces in The Washington Post about how today's country sucks, or about how today's pop music mostly sounds like a bunch of morons shouting over a car alarm? I really can't say. All I can say is, if you don't like jazz, DON'T LISTEN TO IT! But we are already down. STOP KICKING US!

Catching My Breath

Joe Manis and Nicole Glover at the Cathedral Park Jazz Festival

Hey everyone. Last week was incredible; we had our third successful "The Shed" PSU Summer Jazz Camp( partnering with the Portland Jazz Composer's Ensemble) featuring special guests Alex Norris and David Ephross, as well as Portlanders Darrell Grant, David Valdez, Javier Nero, Jason Palmer, Dan Balmer, and Ryan Meagher. It was a intense, full week of masterclasses, rehearsals, and jam sessions; 9 in the morning until almost 8 pm every night. I enjoyed hearing the students as well as the faculty, and we got some great positive feedback. Admittedly, there's no pleasing everyone, and a few folks had complaints, but this is to be expected; this is only our third year, and we are still learning. Nevertheless, it was by and large a positive experience and I look forward to next year's "The Shed."

It would have made sense to plan a weekend vacation in the Bahamas, but alas, I had 5 gigs scheduled for the weekend; three on Saturday and two on Sunday. Saturday started with playing keyboard on a 4 hour wedding gig with bassist Cary Miga's group; then I hightailed it over to St. Johns to play drums with Kerry Politzer, Jon Lakey, and Nicole Glover. I was supposed to play organ after that with Joe Manis, but there was an issue with the pay, so we decided to cancel. The gigs were part of the Cathedral Park Jazz Festival; it was supposed to be a sort of after hours series. I believe that the issue was that the cover charge would pay the band, but when the venue tried to collect a cover charge at the door, no one would enter the bar!  More on that in a minute.

Sunday, I got to play twice in a row on the big stage at Cathedral Park. It was really crowded and the weather was beautiful. First, I played piano with the Jeff Baker group featuring David Valdez, Thomas Barber, Jason Palmer, and Andrea Niemiec. After that, I sat behind the drums for a great set with my band Theoretical Planets featuring Nicole Glover, Joe Manis, and Jon Lakey. It's always great to play for a big crowd in a great outdoor venue. I was pretty much running on fumes after such a long week, but I left the festival satisfied and looking forward to a quiet week of relaxation.

Again, it's always great to play music, and the Cathedral Park Jazz Festival is a great institution which I hope will continue to exist. But there were two issues which I think are worth discussing constructively. One is the idea that musicians are supposed to be paid.  In the case of the Saturday night  gig, where no one would pay 10 dollars to hear music,  I don't blame the venue( which is merely a neighborhood bar) and I certainly have nothing but kudos for the organizers of the festival ( Mary Sue Tobin, Farnell Newton and Arthur Marx, respectively) who did a lot of work to keep the Cathedral Park Festival alive. I have been told that Portland has always been a town which has trouble getting folks to pay any sort of cover charge for music. I am constantly reminding people that in New York City, you basically cannot do anything without paying at least 20 dollars. Portland, you need to accept the fact that musicians need to get paid! When you watch how much money Portlanders spend on artisanal chili dogs and then people say a 10 dollar cover charge is too much, I get a little depressed, to say the least.

Another issue was the sound during the main stage concerts. I've had years of experience playing on stages with sound people of all types. It seemed to me, on Sunday, as though the atmosphere with getting the sound, as well as people on and off the stage and so forth, was a little tense. I tried to get what I needed in the monitors, and then I just put my earplugs in and tried to get through it. I did see that David Valdez was trying to get the mixing guy's attention during the set, and I could see from where I was sitting that the mixing guy was either not hearing David, or purposely ignoring him, which is really unprofessional, no matter how you slice it.

Sound people and musicians have to work to together respectfully; we know this! Musicians cannot be rude to sound people, and sound people need to respect us as well. It's a two way street, for sure. I know for myself, in the 20 years I've been traveling internationally, I always try to be as polite as possible to the sound guys, but sometimes things like quick stage changeovers can make the atmosphere tense.(Sometimes the language barrier can make it even more challenging!) I don't know what David Valdez did to make the sound guy think that he was being disrespected. Asking for certain specific sound things in the monitor or in the house, while possibly time consuming and annoying, is not disrespectful in and of itself. However, tit for tat on the part of the engineer in this case is just juvenile. I hope there will be a different, more cooperative and less egotistical sound company next time.

I'm reminded of the first tour I did with Cassandra Wilson in 1999. Our first performance was at the Ocean Blue Jazz Festival in Japan. I remember that there were probably 20 or 30 stagehands during the sound check. They were all sprinting back and forth across the stage, making sure every musician had what they needed to hear in the monitor, making sure musicians had water, towels, or whatever they needed for optimal performance. The next week, we were in Torino, Italy. I remember  for that sound check, there were 20 or 30 stagehands, all standing around smoking cigarettes..........

The Endless Mystery of Booking Gigs

Sometimes things annoy you to the point of anger, but then it moves beyond anger into humor. I just have to laugh at the endless frustration of trying to be your own booking agent. Everyone knows it takes a lot of time and energy, but it's a very weird way to spend your time. I'm talking about the constant emailing of jazz venues. On the good side, some of these better venues, usually run by folks who actually have played an instrument themselves( and they've been in your situation so they understand), will actually respond; it might still take a while, but eventually they might get back to you and tell you: A. We have these dates available, or B. We aren't booking in advance of March yet, or C. We are all booked up at the moment please try back in a few weeks or, D. Sorry but we don't have a spot for you, your music isn't what we are looking for or you don't have a following or you need a few more years to develop. It shows respect for the artist and respect for the scene. On the negative side, some of the venues are booked by people who probably don't have much sympathy for what musicians go through and just string you along forever. Sometimes I wish they would just tell me to kiss off.

I think the worst though is after days, weeks, months, and years(yes, years, people!) of emails (or pre internet: phone calls) you never hear anything, or you might hear once something like, "Oh, it's really busy now, try me next week." and then you just stay in this endless loop of emailing and never hearing anything. Sometimes you wonder if you should stop emailing altogether, or perhaps just be more aggressive and step up the emails. Unfortunately, I don't have any definitive line on what the etiquette is for something like this. I don't know if there are classes on how to approach booking yourself. Pianist and educator Hal Galper has some books on booking your own jazz tours and gigs, and of course there are many things online about this, although these are more geared towards Indie Rock and Pop groups.

I suppose Hollywood movies deals with various theories on the etiquette of things like "How many days after I give a guy my number should he call me?" or "How much should I tip the Red Cap at the airport?" So in this case, is there some rule like, "If you email a jazz venue 5 times and you don't hear back, should you assume they aren't interested? Are They Just Not That Into Me?" This is especially frustrating when you have already played at said venue, and even had what was deemed to be a great, or at least good turnout. "I thought we really had some special......sob.......Oh I just want to eat a pint of Hagen-Daz and cry myself to sleep..."

It's important to realize that anyone who is in charge of booking a jazz club  has pressures that we as the artist don't have to worry about. If we play at the venue, and no one shows up, then yes, we will be depressed, but we can also just move on to another venue and try again, whereas the booking person has to answer to the owner, who needs to worry about keeping the lights on, etc... That booking person could be out of a job if he or she books too many duds. And if the person who books the music owns the joint, they might be even more worried about whether the business is good. They also might be busy running the restaurant, so they might have even less time to get back to you than someone whose only job it is to do the booking.

Furthermore, and this is key, that when you consider how few jazz clubs there are and how many jazz musicians there are in the world, then just imagine how many emails each booking agent gets. Some of these places get 500 emails a day from various musicians, some whom they know and many that they don't, and they all want to play at the club. Can you imagine having to answer 500 emails a day?
I can relate somewhat because as Jazz Area Coordinator of Portland State University's School Of Music, I get so many emails a day and it is challenging to answer all of them. I don't get nearly 500 a day.

Also, it should be noted that traditionally in the arts, the artist is not supposed to book themselves. You are supposed to have a booking agent, or at the very least a manager who does that. This is because artists are notoriously bad with things pertaining to the business. They are also very egotistical, so it can be hard to deal with the realities of making a gig successful when you are dealing with somebody who thinks of themselves as the greatest thing since sliced cheese. "What do you mean I can't fill a 500 seat hall? Have you ever heard me play?" This is why it's better to leave this sort of negotiation to someone who is a little more detached from the situation. Also, you want someone who understands the business so that the artist doesn't get ripped off.

The problem now in jazz is that there just isn't enough money to be made in order for people to want to spend the time booking you, or managing you. As Vanessa Rubin used to say, "If you want a manager, you have to have something to manage!" Most people in this part of the business will come to you if you have already proven yourself in some capacity. Unfortunately, this is also rather abstract. I feel like the guy in the old commercial for joining the Army. The guy tells him he can't have the job because he needs more experience. "But how do I GET the experience?" In years past, jazz musicians made their name as a sideman playing with the greats, and then , if they were so inclined, branched out into leading their own bands. But now that doesn't seem to matter as much; oftentimes promoters and so forth (definitely in my case) just see you as a sideman. Sometimes it's almost easier if you BEGIN your career as a leader, which really makes little sense if you think about it. Do you become the teacher BEFORE you go to school?(This is kind of what was happening in the 90's when record companies were looking for young players-Young Lions, if you will, and musicians who had very little experience were leading groups. Some actually did go on to mature and grow, but many of the Young Lions sort of dropped of the scene; perhaps they might have benefited from having more sideman experiences, in my opinion.)

So we are trying to be our own booking agents for ourselves. I think there is something to be said for working on a lower level regularly and building a following; I believe Kurt Rosenwinkle did this by playing at Small's every week and building his reputation as well as developing his sound. Rosenwinkle definitely paid dues in that sense, and over time has become the sensation that he is. However, I noticed a number of years ago a young vocalist I worked with a bit, who had never actually performed any gigs prior, go from playing a weekly stint at a Greenwich Village restaurant to playing 2,000 seaters in one year. How does THAT happen? Well, when you know the right people and have the right connections and the right people behind you, I suppose anything can happen. Unfortunately, I think that's just luck. You can't go looking for that. Although I suppose you could rob a bank and use the money to rent a 2,000 seat venue. Or perhaps become the Heisenberg of jazz. (That's a Breaking Bad reference. I mean that you could cook and sell drugs to finance a major career in jazz. I don't really condone this.)

So some people end up filling huge venues overnight somehow, and some of us keep plugging away trying to get gigs at small clubs. What can be frustrating is the amount of thought and work it takes to get a gig that either pays very little or even nothing. There are a few places in particular that I think of how long it took me to get them to give me a gig and in the end it was hard to justify all the effort. One place in particular, and I swear this is true, I called on and off for 3 years before they gave me December 26th. Yes, the day after Christmas. Needless to say, it was not a good night in terms of turnout, and I took home 60 dollars, a good portion of which went to my taxi ride. (What was really weird is that the booking person would answer the phone and pretend to be her own secretary. I would say, " Is Monica there?" and she would say, in Monica's exact voice, "Monica's not here." That was really strange to me.)

Another venue did call me back and tell me " We really love your music, but we just don't have a place for you at this venue." Which in retrospect was actually very cool. At least I had an answer. However, after a few years of playing there as a sideman,  I guess at some point it seemed as though I had a shot at playing there. At the time, I did have someone helping me with booking. She got me a last minute Mother's Day spot. Again, not the best attendance. Not only was it Mother's Day, and a Sunday, but since it was last minute, we couldn't do much to get the word out even if we wanted to. However, the music was amazing( I brought my organ trio of Tom Guarna and Rodney Holmes), although the guy who booked the music didn't come to the gig, so he never heard the band. ( I also had made it a double bill with the Casey Benjamin Band; Benjamin is an awesome saxophonist and musician and his band was also quite amazing.) It took me another 3 years to get another gig there; my recollection was that it was a pretty good turnout; I had Steve Wilson as a guest, and again the music was really happening. So it only took another SIX YEARS to get another spot there. That's right. SIX YEARS. I emailed, hired someone to send emails,  then went back to doing it myself. Finally, I got another weeknight. Yippee. Not a holiday, at least.

This time, which was my last to date, was an undeniably good night. That's because I put money towards radio spots on WBGO, which were not cheap. I believe that the radio spots plus the all star line up of Lonnie Plaxico, Clarence Penn, Jaleel Shaw, and Debbie Deane really helped to bring folks out. As you might have guessed, after this success, I'm basically back where I started and have been unable to secure a follow up gig after many, many, many emails. Who knows? Maybe in 12 years I'll get another chance.

I guess my issue is that on the last gig, because I spent money on publicity, plus paid for all my own expenses getting to New York and staying somewhere, plus paid the band, in the end I lost quite a bit of money. Which isn't that big a deal; however, if I'm going to continue to try to have a relationship with these venues, what is in it for me? A chance to play my music? Possibly. Am I developing an audience? HELL NO! How can you develop an audience if you only play somewhere once every 3 to 6 years? The problem I have with venues is they don't want to actually help anyone develop an audience. If you can't get a gig with any kind of frequency, how can you develop a following?

Anyway, it's gotten to the point where it's just comical. The venue I mentioned where the lady would pretend to be her secretary? She passed away, and her son runs the club now. I played there a number of times as a leader when someone else booked the gig. I tried to get a repeat myself and never got any response-again after countless emails. When I saw Monica's son at the club, he smiled at me and said, "George! Man, we should get you in here again!" I said, "I would love to do that!" I tried again with the emails and he never responded to a single one.

I'd love to get more feedback on this post. Feel free to share your own experiences. What's the most amount of calls or emails or YEARS you've spent trying to get a gig? I wonder if there is a world record in the category of "Most Emails Sent To Get A Gig...."

We Can Do Better

Jazz is a living music. If it's not being played somewhere live, then it's essentially dead. I have written about how as Jazz moves into academia, we must make efforts to ensure that jazz doesn't end up like classical saxophone: as an almost exclusively academic pursuit. The challenge is great: Jazz music hasn't been popular for more than half a century, live music competes with the internet for our attention, and the terrible economy forces folks to stay home instead of going out to spend money. 

When I started playing professionally in the late 1980's, there seemed to be much more interest in live music than there seems to be now. Although anybody playing jazz in the modern era is going to struggle with large numbers of folks who have little understanding of bebop and swing, in my youthful days there were gigs happening almost every night; between Baltimore and Washington, D.C., I could do pretty well financially. Some of the gigs paid more in the 80's and 90's than they pay now. Furthermore, even as a relative novice, I almost never had the need to do what is quite often disdainfully referred to as a "door gig." 

What is a "door gig?" Simply, it's when there is no guarantee for the band; you get only whatever money comes in at the door, which is oftentimes actually a percentage of the door( the venue takes some of it. This can vary.) Showing up for work without knowing if you are going to make any money can suck; can you imagine a doctor showing up for major surgery and being told, "Sorry, but you only get 30 dollars. It was fun, though. Let's do brain surgery another time!" The door gig takes the risk away from the venue and puts it on the musicians. Sometimes, this can be better than a guarantee; when you consider the paradigm of the club that gives you a small guarantee and then pockets the profit, even when there are huge crowds, then a percentage of the door means the band can get more more money if more people come out. However, if no one comes, then you don't get paid at all. No matter how fun it is to play music, if you are a professional musician, it sucks to end the night with nothing to take home, especially if you have been doing this for a few years, and even more especially, if you remember a time when you refused to do door gigs because you didn't need to do them.

I remember when the shift occurred in New York City; at a certain point, it seemed as though there were two kinds of gigs: restaurant gigs which guaranteed payment, and door gigs which didn't. The restaurant gigs came with issues like having a dress code, having to play for 5 or 6 hours and having specifically timed breaks and limited food options, and also being told to play quieter even though the conversation of the diners was already drowning out the music. The door gigs were situations where you could play whatever you wanted, but you couldn't expect the venue to do anything to get people to come to the gig. In fact, it seemed like there were some door gigs that were almost like scams; for example, some gigs would say you only get the door after the first 10 covers. I remember doing one of these, and because I was so wrapped up in worrying about the music, I couldn't actually count how many people had come to the show. The lady at the door said, "only 10 people came, so you don't get anything." It seemed like there were more than ten people there, but I was too tired to argue over nickles and dimes. After a bunch of experiences like that, I stopped doing door gigs and just tried to make the restaurant gigs more interesting. Sometimes, those gigs could be just as fun as the "playing" gigs. Of course, those gigs started to pay less and less, even as the restaurants got more and more crowded and the menu got more expensive. You can stop greed....I mean, progress......

Now that I have a day job teaching jazz at Portland State University, I can do door gigs and not worry about the fact that I couldn't make a living from these kinds of gigs. I can do them for the love of playing music. However, this is in some ways a short term solution: in the short term, I can feed my family, and I can play my music regardless of demand. Cool, right? Well, the problem is that I'm actually less motivated to publicize my gigs or to try to get people to come out and what have you. 

This brings up the issue of whether this is even my job at all. I think that, especially in today's world of social media, putting your gig on Facebook is the least of what you can do. You can make posters, call or text your friends, send out a press release, try to get the radio stations to interview you, etc...You could pay for ads or hire a publicist, but that's probably way more money than you want to spend, especially for one gig. How much more than that can we do? Also, you could try being a really great musician that people are interested in hearing, or you could try to present your gig as a "special project," or even a "tribute" to some great jazz legend (PDX Jazz does a lot of these.) Or you could have more people in your band, which equals more friends who will come to the venue, hopefully. 

What often ends up happening is that whomever can convince every friend they had from middle school on and every extended family member to come out every time they play will be the successful ones. If you spend all of your time shedding, and have a small circle of friends and family who also have a life of their own, you can't expect them to come out every time you play! (I used to do OK at Blues Alley in Washington, D.C. when my Dad or Mom would really organize folks to come to my performances. But I did a lot of gigs with local singers who were secretaries by day; they would invite the entire office to their gig once a year and they would pack the place. So this was the beginning of what I thought was an imbalance. The really good local musicians who played on the scene regularly couldn't draw a crowd at Blues Alley; but the amateur folks could do really well with ticket sales. So the amateurs would get repeat bookings while the professionals would end up working at Twins Lounge. That's a whole other story....)

But what if people STILL don't come? Can we not look at the venue itself? Is the venue a place where people go regardless of who is playing or not? Even though "jazz" gigs can be distinct from "restaurant" gigs, many of the "jazz" gigs take place where food and beverages are served. These aren't just performance halls; these are "clubs" or "lounges" that also have music. Without music, these venues would have no other way to draw folks other than their food, or their drinks, or their atmosphere, or what have you. Just like musicians are being told, "you need to figure out how to get folks to come out," restaurants, bars, and lounges also have to figure out the best way to "build a following" as in a regular clientele. You need to have a place where folks want to go and feel comfortable. You need to get a good reputation in the community. 

Without naming names, it's amazing to me that many of these venues would rather blame the musicians than blame themselves. If you own a venue and you are expecting local musicians to bring huge crowds all of the time, you are going to be sorry; if you book jazz, it just isn't popular enough to draw huge crowds.( If you want to book techno, or other really popular forms of music, then by all means do so, if that's the kind of venue you want.) But some of these places, not just in Portland, but everywhere, don't do everything that they can to make people want to come to their place. If you are in Portland, this is now a foodie town, and your food has to be able to compete with that. If you are in a funny location, and you don't have walk in traffic, that's not the musician's fault. You have to figure out how to make people WALK or DRIVE to your venue. 

A musician friend of mine recently posted this letter that he received from the proprietor of a local venue:

 "Hi. I have an issue with the lack of audience. I would've hoped that someone in your group of performers/musicians would've marketed the group playing. This has been two weeks playing to no audience. Are you expecting fans next week, because if not I would ask you to step down from performing any further at my shop. I don't have a built in audience. I count on the bands to bring folks in and that hasn't been done. Let's call a spade a spade." 

My musician friend sent it out as a warning to other musicians who would venture to perform in this venue. There are so many problems with this message, but perhaps we can also learn from this scenario in addition to being angry about this kind of message.

Of course, we also hate not having an audience. I'm sure my musician friend did the best he could to get the word out. And the side musicians on the rotation for this gig were some of the best known in Portland. Although that could be a problem in that if you are playing often in town, then it's not a special event if you play somewhere, so people are less likely to come down every time you play. On the other side of the coin, you aren't going to get famous out-of-town jazz musicians to play a door gig in your venue. So getting the best local guys is probably your best bet, UNLESS you want to go the "let's get a secretary who sings and has hundreds of friends who will come to her gig." That has pros and cons. That kind of mentality has it's limitations; eventually you run out of those people, and then you are left with the pro musicians, who have abandoned your venue in search of a place where they can play real music as well as listen to real music.

Also, the idea that the leader will market the gig is one thing, but you cannot expect the sidemen to do but so much in marketing the gig. That is not their job. They can post it on facebook if they choose. But in general, if you are asked to be a sideman, it's pretty beyond the norm to expect you to do any publicity. It would be different if it was a collective or some kind of band where everyone is an equal member. But in a situation like this, it's really on the bandleader. I couldn't imagine if every sideman gig I did, I was asked to hire a publicist and do heavy promotion. There's just no way!

The letter says: "This has been two weeks playing to no audience." Well, I hate to break it to you, but the regular weekly gigs sometimes take more than two weeks to develop into something. Sometimes it might take months. Let's look at the venue itself. With or without music, would you close up shop if you had little business in your first two weeks? No. It would suck, and you might try to figure out how to get more folks out, but you wouldn't abandon all the prep work you did to open your venue because you started slow. It is said that it takes three years of having a restaurant before you start to make money. Would you close after two weeks? So here, the venue owner is clearly short sighted.

Finally, the fact that they put all of the responsibility on the musicians is just bad. YES, we as musicians need to do better. AND FOR THAT MATTER, we the musicians-as-fans-of-the-music need to do better. We need to support the venues and the local musicians better. I make my own excuses; I'm busy with school or my own gigs, my son wants me at home, I'm too tired to go out, etc...Some of my music students, who I suppose are interested in a career as live performing musicians, never go to local gigs; at least, I've never seen them at any gig. I understand that some have problems with being underage for going into bars past a certain hour, some have transportation issues, and some have financial issues. I understand, but if there is a will, there's a way. Students need to go to some of these gigs not just to support a scene that they want to be a part of someday, but they also need to hear live music to learn from the pros, and also be a part of the scene. If people see you around at venues, they get to know you, they might let you sit in, and then if you are good, they might call you for a gig. This is what it means to "make the scene." Many of my students don't understand this at all. 

I also think that, while Portland has a better than most cities in America jazz scene, and a decent crowd for jazz, the jazz fans need to branch out and look at ALL of the jazz venues, not just Jimmy Mak's and The Mission Theater. Sure, lots of folks come out for the PDX festival and PDX events, but where are they the rest of the year. Jazz can't happen 6 times a year to be a jazz scene. I am reminded of when I asked someone if there was a jazz scene in Montreal. "Sure, there's a great jazz scene. We have the Montreal Jazz Scene every summer!" THAT DOES NOT QUALIFY AS A JAZZ SCENE! That's one time a year when a whole bunch of famous cats come to your city. What's going on the rest of the year?

Getting back to the letter; the owner of the venue takes no responsibility and has no long term vision for music in his venue. Even though it's a bit extreme that his letter was distributed publicly, did he think that musicians don't talk to each other? Indeed, I've gone to the venue to support musicians, because I actually thought it was a cool spot and I have been telling people that they should go there. I played there a few months ago and really enjoyed it. I don't know, I feel a little disheartened by the owner's attitude, and I'm feeling disrespected in solidarity with my musician friend who was trying to build something there. I still think it's a cool place, and I never say never; if they are willing to keep an open mind, it could actually be a great spot for jazz. But this kind of attitude doesn't make me want to go there, let alone perform there.

In order to be a jazz scene there has to be a community: we all have to do better. Musicians have to get people to come out. Musicians and students need to support other musicians and venues. Venues have to support musicians and do ALL that they can to make their place a destination. Jazz fans have to be fans more than a few times a year. I've already blogged about how music schools can do better. I can do better. You can do better. Let's not just point fingers, let's just commit to keeping jazz alive in the 21st century.

Calling Them Out: Cornelia Street Cafe

I wish I had two more hands so I could give this place 4 thumbs down

Last year, I heard an amazing classical pianist named Adam Tendler perform at Portland State University. Tendler played a stellar interpretation of John Cage's "Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano." Tender was also gracious enough to speak with the audience afterwards. He answered questions, and gave the small crowd many thoughtful insights into his musical career and his approach to preparing Cage's work. Tendler is quite busy as a performer; however, he finds the time (kind of like yours truly) to blog about music.

I recently saw a post on his blog which really struck me. Tendler wrote about recently attended performance at a venue in New York called Cornelia Street Cafe. This club is known to most jazz musicians and fans. I've played there a number of times over the years. The small club is in the heart of Greenwich Village, in the basement of a restaurant. They are known for presenting jazz and poetry, but sometimes they present other things. In this case, Tender was at Cornelia to see a fellow New Music minded classical musician. Unfortunately, the performance went horribly wrong. What follows is an "Open Letter To Cornelia Street Cafe", reprinted from Tendler's blog The Dissonant States:

“Awful.” “Shitty” “Shocking” “Horrifying.” “Gross.” ”Unbelievable.” “Outrageous.” “Disgusting.” “Despicable.” 

Those are some comments already posted on my various social media platforms after I informed my friends and followers about last night’s experience at Cornelia Street Cafe, where I witnessed a performer humiliated onstage by manager Angelo Verga, who then proceeded to verbally assault a fellow audience member and me. 

Let me continue: “That really sucks.” “Yelp here I come!” “Good to know.” “They don’t realize how fast word gets around.” “Insulting.” “The owner would be ashamed…” “A fucking nightmare.” “What?!” “Retweeting.” “Sharing this now.”

Okay, you get the point.

I’ve frequented Cornelia for years, and even visited multiple times last week for various concerts and a CD release party. I have no personal bone to pick with Cornelia Street Cafe. But after seeing Andy Costello, who came from Montreal to perform his 6pm recital Sunday evening, humiliated onstage by your manager because of a poor turnout and an apparently confounding program, and then, after being forced to cut his set short—he had two pieces left, fifteen minutes, and Angelo insisted he “make it ten” because “they needed the room” (the next performance was in an hour and a half)—and then, once offstage, guilt-tripped even further for having not drawn a crowd and lectured about how much money was lost… well, I was stunned. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. Never.

When I brought up the fact that I paid a full price, plus drinks, for the performance, and would have liked to have heard the whole program, Verga dismissed the objection, saying “he didn’t give a shit.” Wow. Okay. As one of my friends said: “Good to know.”

Does Cornelia, as a venue, not understand the risk in presenting music in New York City (especially a modern program at 6pm on a Sunday)? The New York classical music scene is either like high school, dominated by popular cliques, or like conservatory, where friends come to their friends’ recitals in solidarity. It’s mostly the latter, honestly—every performance I’ve attended at Cornelia has been populated mainly by acquaintances of the performers—and mostly a New York phenomenon. Someone can sell out a show out of town, have a following on the West Coast, and then play to an empty room in New York because they don’t have a devoted following of local friends. It’s reality, and it’s unfortunate, but most of all, it seems to be news to you! Anyway, Andy did his best. He marketed online (that’s how I heard about the show) and sent you posters. Where were they? Not in the front window, to be sure.

As a performer who has sold out venues nationwide but who has also suffered the misfortune of playing to virtually empty halls, I urged Angelo to understand that these things happen, that it’s no one’s fault, but that interrupting a recital and tossing out a paying audience (of any size) is unacceptable and an unwise move for a presenter. His response, again, that he “doesn’t give a shit,” came as a shock from which I’ve still not totally recovered. Maybe it’s just that I’m not used to being cursed at, especially by a host at a restaurant where I just paid a bunch of money. The fact that my friend wasn’t paid his cut of the door (it would’ve been $20, but who cares, right?) only adds insult to injury. So my money, for this catastrophic experience, went straight to Cornelia and to no one else. I couldn’t be less pleased. 

But at least I learned something. I learned that if a small audience attends a Cornelia Street Concert, Cornelia pockets all the cash, pays the performer nothing, and audiences are asked to leave early with no refund on their ticket. Got it. It goes without saying, but I also learned that Cornelia Street Cafe “doesn’t give a shit” if its patrons have a good night or not, or if performing artists have a pleasant experiencing presenting work in their space. It’s about money, after all—performers bring their friends to deliver revenue to Cornelia Street Cafe—and if that means ejecting an audience and humiliating the performer to teach us this lesson, so be it. Andy, a real class act, behaved graciously throughout, even though inside he had to have been crumbling, or fuming, or regretting having ever stepped foot in your establishment. I know I was. 

It’s my duty as an artist to inform people about this experience. I think it’s very interesting, honestly. My friends and allies in the arts community, as you’ve seen, continue to find other, more imaginative words.

I was sad to hear this story. I am impressed with Tendler's assessment of the situation, and I agree with everything he says. I was not, however, surprised to hear this story. Although, like I said before, I performed at Cornelia a bunch of times over the years, I had a similar experience back around 2004. I had been looking for venues to present a band I had formed called Mad Science. This fusion organ trio had featured guitar wizard Tom Guarna since the start in 2000. But we hadn't settled on a drummer.  I had secured a night at Cornelia for the band, and I decided to give drum virtuoso Rodney Holmes a chance to play some of my music. 

Mad Science is an organ guitar drums power trio much like Tony William's original Lifetime band. It's not a quiet piano trio. However, it's not the loudest thing you've ever heard. I will admit, we started out on the loud side. Regardless of the volume, I was really digging the music; Holmes' freakishly good time and precision and Tom Guarna's exciting solos were giving me new hope and inspiration for the project. 

Unfortunately, during the second song, the bartender walked up to the stage and placed a note on the keyboard, which read as follows:

IF YOU DO NOT TURN DOWN THE VOLUME, THE GIG WILL BE SHUT DOWN 

This wasn't putting me in a great mood to play music, although it offered a solution with the ultimatum. So when the tune was over, I told Guarna and Holmes about the note. We cut our volume in half; Holmes played the rest of the night on brushes. Sadly, our dilemma didn't end there. After another tune or two, which I reiterate, was at half the volume of the first two songs, someone who may have been Mr. Verga, but he never introduced himself, so I have no idea. He did act like he was an authority figure, so I guess he was the owner, or something. As we were trying to figure out which tune to play next, Mr. Authority approached us, or rather, me. 

Mr A: Can I talk to you for a minute?

GC: Sure.....

Mr A:  Take a break and come out and ......

GC:  Uhhhh, we're in the middle of a set. These people came to hear us. 

Mr A: Ok, listen, you need to turn it down or we shut it down. That's the deal.

GC: We turned down....we are playing at half the volume now.

Mr A: Ok, fine but you are still too loud. If you don't watch the volume, we shut it down. That's the deal.

So it went like that for a minute. Before I started the next tune, I asked the audience, "Are we too loud?" "NO!" was the unanimous reply. Then Mr. Authority started yelling, loudly:" We get noise complaints from the EPA, I get fined......" The point is- we did turn down but it didn't seem to matter to this jerk. We played the rest of the set so softly that I could actually hear people's conversations over our music.  

I didn't play at this club for a long time. Why would I? Cornelia Street Cafe has never been a lucrative place to perform, at least for me. Cornelia, like many jazz venues, has failed to cultivate a regular audience. They expect whomever is performing there to bring in their own crowd. Mr. Tendler spoke to this phenomenon in the previous paragraphs. Even when I started playing there again, I would be lucky to be able to pay the cats and maybe have enough bread left over for a taxi ride to Queens. Even so, musicians like to play, and since I've never been able to book my own band at the Vanguard, I had settled for places like this. 

There were a few times where I did have a good turnout at Cornelia Street. So I did start playing there more regularly. However, not surprisingly, another depressing incident occurred with Cornelia Street. I actually blogged about it right after it happened; I had chosen to keep the name of the venue a secret so as to not potentially burn a bridge forever. Since I have decided that not only will I never play there or set foot in there ever again, I no longer care about being a gentleman about it. You may go back and read that blog entry in it's entirety, but here's a clip:

I have played at this particular venue for 15 years, dealing with a succession of bookers, most of whom were friendly and easy to deal with. Not so with a recent exchange. My wife and I played a double bill there this past spring, and we had a respectable, if not terrific, turnout. But when I contacted the booker to ask about another date, I was dismissed with comments to the effect of: "Feedback I got from the bartender and waiters about your show was not too good, to say the least. Your turnout was way below average, I was told that your sets did not start on time, the whole evening was poorly run, and you didn't even know what instrument you were going to be playing the second set."

I think what bugged me the most was that this booker was judging me by what the host and bartender said about the performance. (This to me is akin to getting a review of the New York Philharmonic from one of the ushers in the concert hall...no offense to ushers.) I wanted to ask him if they were musicians or not, but my wife stopped me. I really had to hold back some choice words. Anyway, It's not like I need to play there to make a living; on the contrary, I usually tried to hold back booking stuff there in fear of a conflict with a tour or better paying gig. So as I was saying, it's not about the money, it's about the respect. And this is from a fellow musician, who is probably struggling as much as we all are. Where's the sense of community? 

So now, you know(although many of you knew it was Cornelia Street already). 

I think Mr. Tendler is right. It’s also my duty as an artist to inform people about these experiences. I think at a certain point we need to use social media to let people know. We can choose not to patronize these venues. We can choose not to perform there. We can urge others not to go there.We do have more power than we realize.

The sad thing is, it's not as if we are even asking for more money, or even for these venues to take more responsibility for their business. It's that we are asking for a decent amount of respect as artists, and as human beings. And even as customers! That's all I really hope for these days. I know it's hard to make it work presenting creative music. But when the venues make us jump through hoops to even GET a gig, make us do all of the promotion, don't guarantee any money, and EVEN THEN treat us like scum, it's no wonder jazz venues are hurting. I think we are all in this together: if you treat us with respect, it will make us not only want to play there, but it will make us feel like we are in this together. It will make us feel like we want to HELP your venue. We will recommend it to our friends and fans. We will eat there. We will drink there. We will pay to hear music there. It's just plain old common sense. It's common sense which the management at Cornelia Street seems to lack in spades.