Double Blind Movie Screening
7 years ago
Showing posts with label jazz. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jazz. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
CCPA Jazz Fest on Sunday, May 2
After thoroughly enjoying the talent displayed by the Chicago College of Performing Arts at Vivid '10, I wanted to recommend this program to all of my readers who are interested in great jazz. CCPA will present a FREE Jazz Fest this Sunday, May 2, from 2-6:30 p.m. at Martyrs'. It's an all-ages show, so bring the family, your friends, or just bring yourself.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Chicago College of Performing Arts' Vivid '10
During a high-stress work week, there is nothing quite like letting the pressure dissolve away on the strains of a little Tuesday night jazz. This particular Tuesday, I had the pleasure of attending Vivid ’10, a series of performances by the Chicago College of Performing Arts, which included both jazz and musical theatre. Surprisingly, this fabulous concert was free to the general public (thanks to some serious contributions by supporters of the school), and I’d by lying if I said I was anything but blown away by these students.
At first, I had a little trouble reconciling the setting with the content: while I love Auditorium Theatre (Roosevelt University's theatre, and the venue for Vivid), somehow it just seemed incongruous to hear jazz there. A huge theatre lacks that intimacy of the cozy jazz club, where the music completely envelopes you, scoops you up, and takes you away. In a club, the music literally reverberates right through you because the musicians are right there with you, performing only feet away. You can move in your chair, bob your head, and no one thinks twice about it, because, well, it’s just impossible to sit still! But at Auditorium Theatre there’s this air of formality that’s so counter to the casual jazz scene.
I certainly felt this way as we listened to the Swing and Hard Bop selections opening the program. I felt too far away and restricted. This was definitely bob-your-head music, but when I looked around, everyone was still (I was still subtly jammin in my seat, regardless, but it was a little uncomfortable). The Swing performers impressed me immediately. It was shocking to me that these were college students, but then again, if you understand the jazz history at the Chicago College of Performing Arts, not to mention the talent of the faculty, then you know not to expect anything but the best from these “kids.” Angelo Hart, the first of the night’s pianists, enthralled me, despite the fact that his solo time seemed to be much less than the saxophonists (isn’t this always the case, though? Oh, those saxophonists…). Honestly, I’m always saying that bass is my favorite jazz instrument, in large part because I feel like bass is so underappreciated yet so integral to the music, but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for pianists, thanks to my mother. Plus, when I watch and even meet jazz musicians, the pianists always seem to have so much heart, so much personality—I swear they’re always smiling.
After Swing, we moved into Hard Bop. Head of Jazz and Contemporary Music Studies Paul Wertico was narrating the event, by the way, providing a succinct history of the jazz movements we were viewing, which I highly appreciated. I’m all over the Hard Bop, and Adam Rongo did an amazing job on the alto sax. I have a difficult time calling out any one musician over the other in this program, as they were all stellar, but I have to admit that the saxophonists throughout the night were highly impressive.
When we finally got into the ECM pieces, the venue made sense. The sound filled up the entire auditorium, with Danny Markovich’s sexy echoing sax engulfing the house. I immediately had goose bumps, as I often do when listening to/viewing great art. Big sound needs a big auditorium, so the setting finally made sense.
Of course, moving into the Avant-Garde selections, I had to guard my ears. Literally. I just can’t do it. There’s just too much sound, it’s too cacophonous. I mean, there’s more order to it than that, but still. They did “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down,” and I pretty much checked out. I thought, um, can we go back to earlier Miles, please? I tried, I really did, but it’s just too much.
So, after intermission, when we were treated to a big band ensemble, I was feeling much more comfortable. Regrettably, I couldn’t stay for the entire show. However, when the program broke off into selections from Sweet Charity, I felt a bit out of my realm anyhow (btw, of course the venue was perfect for the musical theatre selections, too). So, having lost myself in more than an hour of foot-tapping, goose-bumping jazz, I snuck out of the auditorium and enjoyed a quiet stroll downtown to the El. And I had completely forgotten about work.
At first, I had a little trouble reconciling the setting with the content: while I love Auditorium Theatre (Roosevelt University's theatre, and the venue for Vivid), somehow it just seemed incongruous to hear jazz there. A huge theatre lacks that intimacy of the cozy jazz club, where the music completely envelopes you, scoops you up, and takes you away. In a club, the music literally reverberates right through you because the musicians are right there with you, performing only feet away. You can move in your chair, bob your head, and no one thinks twice about it, because, well, it’s just impossible to sit still! But at Auditorium Theatre there’s this air of formality that’s so counter to the casual jazz scene.
I certainly felt this way as we listened to the Swing and Hard Bop selections opening the program. I felt too far away and restricted. This was definitely bob-your-head music, but when I looked around, everyone was still (I was still subtly jammin in my seat, regardless, but it was a little uncomfortable). The Swing performers impressed me immediately. It was shocking to me that these were college students, but then again, if you understand the jazz history at the Chicago College of Performing Arts, not to mention the talent of the faculty, then you know not to expect anything but the best from these “kids.” Angelo Hart, the first of the night’s pianists, enthralled me, despite the fact that his solo time seemed to be much less than the saxophonists (isn’t this always the case, though? Oh, those saxophonists…). Honestly, I’m always saying that bass is my favorite jazz instrument, in large part because I feel like bass is so underappreciated yet so integral to the music, but I will always have a soft spot in my heart for pianists, thanks to my mother. Plus, when I watch and even meet jazz musicians, the pianists always seem to have so much heart, so much personality—I swear they’re always smiling.
After Swing, we moved into Hard Bop. Head of Jazz and Contemporary Music Studies Paul Wertico was narrating the event, by the way, providing a succinct history of the jazz movements we were viewing, which I highly appreciated. I’m all over the Hard Bop, and Adam Rongo did an amazing job on the alto sax. I have a difficult time calling out any one musician over the other in this program, as they were all stellar, but I have to admit that the saxophonists throughout the night were highly impressive.
When we finally got into the ECM pieces, the venue made sense. The sound filled up the entire auditorium, with Danny Markovich’s sexy echoing sax engulfing the house. I immediately had goose bumps, as I often do when listening to/viewing great art. Big sound needs a big auditorium, so the setting finally made sense.
Of course, moving into the Avant-Garde selections, I had to guard my ears. Literally. I just can’t do it. There’s just too much sound, it’s too cacophonous. I mean, there’s more order to it than that, but still. They did “Miles Runs the Voodoo Down,” and I pretty much checked out. I thought, um, can we go back to earlier Miles, please? I tried, I really did, but it’s just too much.
So, after intermission, when we were treated to a big band ensemble, I was feeling much more comfortable. Regrettably, I couldn’t stay for the entire show. However, when the program broke off into selections from Sweet Charity, I felt a bit out of my realm anyhow (btw, of course the venue was perfect for the musical theatre selections, too). So, having lost myself in more than an hour of foot-tapping, goose-bumping jazz, I snuck out of the auditorium and enjoyed a quiet stroll downtown to the El. And I had completely forgotten about work.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Jazz and Cocktails
This is old, but I didn't post it. Wrote it on 1/17/09:
Jazz has been an important part of my leisure time since my undergraduate days when I first fell in love with it (thank you, Kim). I’ve been to jazz clubs all over the Midwest, including my favorite Murphy’s Place in Toledo, the Jazz Kitchen in Indy, the Blue Wisp in Cincy, and various places in Cleveland, Muncie and Michigan. I’ve scoped out jazz in places where it’s hard to find (like Knoxville) and I’ve sacrificed my lungs to thick cigarette smoke (Rusty’s!) to immerse myself in those sweet chords. If there’s jazz, I will find it. Therefore, it’s rather astounding that I’d lived in Chicago for over four months before I finally made it to the Green Mill. Friday night, I went.
After unsuccessfully attempting to recruit a number of my Chicago friends to accompany my friend Vinny and me to the cocktail lounge, it wound up being just the two of us. I arrived first, severely overestimating the time it would take me to get from home to the Green Mill. Upon walking in I was greeted by a large, bald-headed, biker-looking guy who was really nice to me, but looked like he could pick me up with one finger and toss me out if he didn’t like the looks of me. He recited the rules of the club and then suggested I grab a drink to warm up. So, I took a seat at the bar and treated myself to an $8 white Russian (my favorite, but usually reserved for special occasions). I had plenty of time to look around and take in my surroundings. As I looked at the wood carvings hanging around the room, and watched the musicians prepare their set, I wondered if the interior looks much different now than it did in the mobster days. It’s been entirely remodeled since then, but I wonder how close they stayed to the original… My thoughts were interrupted by the bouncer, who took pity on my lack of company and tried to engage me in conversation about a dream he’d had the night before. He proceeded with all the details, ending with un-profound comments on Freud. I chose not to add my own two cents on Freud.
Anyway, I digress… So, when Vinny arrived, he was a welcome sight, rescuing me from an awkward solitude occasionally interrupted by the tales of the bald-headed bouncer. As we scouted out a good seat, one of the employees showed us to a cramped little table right up front. The lack of space wasn’t an issue—it was a perfect view! As we settled in, I looked at the people sharing our space—all elderly friends and family of the equally elderly musicians. They were clearly enjoying themselves immensely. Ha. I was enjoying myself immensely. And as I looked around at the wide range of ages filling the club, everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
It may have taken me awhile to get to the Green Mill, but that Friday I was definitely destined to go because they played my song. I’ve only heard it once before. On a Carnival cruise ship, I was one of very few cruisers who spent my evenings in the jazz lounge, bobbing my head to the music. The drummer took a shine to me and asked me if I had a request. I suggested a few that they couldn’t play, so he finally told me they’d play something special for me next time I stopped by. The last night of the cruise I went down to the lounge to bask in the final night of vacation and, sure enough, they played my song. Emily. It’s such a lovely piece. When they announced it at the Green Mill, I was on cloud nine.
Needless to say, I shall be back. The Green Mill was cozy and casual, with the kind of energetic jazz pros I come to expect when I head out for an evening of jazz. Frank DeRone (the guest vocalist) name dropped all night. This guy’s sang with the greats. Like Tony Bennett. While his voice is weakened a bit by age, his heart was in it, and the Green Mill musicians carried the evening. My only complaint was that there weren’t enough bass solos. There are never enough bass solos… I’ll let is slide, though. After all, they did play my song.
Jazz has been an important part of my leisure time since my undergraduate days when I first fell in love with it (thank you, Kim). I’ve been to jazz clubs all over the Midwest, including my favorite Murphy’s Place in Toledo, the Jazz Kitchen in Indy, the Blue Wisp in Cincy, and various places in Cleveland, Muncie and Michigan. I’ve scoped out jazz in places where it’s hard to find (like Knoxville) and I’ve sacrificed my lungs to thick cigarette smoke (Rusty’s!) to immerse myself in those sweet chords. If there’s jazz, I will find it. Therefore, it’s rather astounding that I’d lived in Chicago for over four months before I finally made it to the Green Mill. Friday night, I went.
After unsuccessfully attempting to recruit a number of my Chicago friends to accompany my friend Vinny and me to the cocktail lounge, it wound up being just the two of us. I arrived first, severely overestimating the time it would take me to get from home to the Green Mill. Upon walking in I was greeted by a large, bald-headed, biker-looking guy who was really nice to me, but looked like he could pick me up with one finger and toss me out if he didn’t like the looks of me. He recited the rules of the club and then suggested I grab a drink to warm up. So, I took a seat at the bar and treated myself to an $8 white Russian (my favorite, but usually reserved for special occasions). I had plenty of time to look around and take in my surroundings. As I looked at the wood carvings hanging around the room, and watched the musicians prepare their set, I wondered if the interior looks much different now than it did in the mobster days. It’s been entirely remodeled since then, but I wonder how close they stayed to the original… My thoughts were interrupted by the bouncer, who took pity on my lack of company and tried to engage me in conversation about a dream he’d had the night before. He proceeded with all the details, ending with un-profound comments on Freud. I chose not to add my own two cents on Freud.
Anyway, I digress… So, when Vinny arrived, he was a welcome sight, rescuing me from an awkward solitude occasionally interrupted by the tales of the bald-headed bouncer. As we scouted out a good seat, one of the employees showed us to a cramped little table right up front. The lack of space wasn’t an issue—it was a perfect view! As we settled in, I looked at the people sharing our space—all elderly friends and family of the equally elderly musicians. They were clearly enjoying themselves immensely. Ha. I was enjoying myself immensely. And as I looked around at the wide range of ages filling the club, everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
It may have taken me awhile to get to the Green Mill, but that Friday I was definitely destined to go because they played my song. I’ve only heard it once before. On a Carnival cruise ship, I was one of very few cruisers who spent my evenings in the jazz lounge, bobbing my head to the music. The drummer took a shine to me and asked me if I had a request. I suggested a few that they couldn’t play, so he finally told me they’d play something special for me next time I stopped by. The last night of the cruise I went down to the lounge to bask in the final night of vacation and, sure enough, they played my song. Emily. It’s such a lovely piece. When they announced it at the Green Mill, I was on cloud nine.
Needless to say, I shall be back. The Green Mill was cozy and casual, with the kind of energetic jazz pros I come to expect when I head out for an evening of jazz. Frank DeRone (the guest vocalist) name dropped all night. This guy’s sang with the greats. Like Tony Bennett. While his voice is weakened a bit by age, his heart was in it, and the Green Mill musicians carried the evening. My only complaint was that there weren’t enough bass solos. There are never enough bass solos… I’ll let is slide, though. After all, they did play my song.
