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Jelly vs Jam
| I've been playing music for the better part of thirty years and I can't begin to count the number of gigs I've done in that time. As I look back on it I might have thought to keep a journal or scrap book on my best and worst gigs, my favorite and least favorite cities in different parts of the world - Paris and Hong Kong are two of my favorites along with Montreaux, Switzerland. Lima was cool but I spent the entire night on the floor in the fetal position vowing to never eat again - if you read my last article you know that's a promise I failed to keep. My very first tour was with jazz guitarist Eric Gale. Eric was the coolest guitarist on the New York studio scene. He played on everything. If someone was recording a record or a television commercial, Eric was probably on it; like Grover Washington, Jr. and Bill Withers and tons more. We stopped in Holland for the North Sea Jazz Festival and young and eager, I walked into the dressing room only to find none other than the great Dizzy Gillespie preparing for his upcoming set. I might have made it my business to keep a camera on hand for moments just like that. Who knows, I could have an incredible scrap book by now. I would also have probably been remembered as the pain in the butt new guy with the camera pointed in everyone's face - not cool. Well I'm not a new guy anymore and one thing I've learned over the years is that some gigs are just better than others for some indefinable reason. It could be a surprisingly appreciative crowd, the stage could be situated just right to catch a beautiful sunset on the water, you could be playing your tail off that particular night - it comes and goes. That's one aspect of the game that keeps you glued - anticipation of the unexpected. Golfers say that's what keeps them playing round after round; sometimes you pull a round out of your bag that is so exceptional that you can hardly believe it. I've heard great athletes say their greatest game may not have been a win and their greatest wins may have found them not playing well at all. I would love to see concerts called like an athletic event - "diva is missing some top end tonight, but she's more than making up for it with her energy. She's hot and the band is right there with her." Imagine watching a concert with commentary. "We're hearing some incredible guitar tonight; his fingers are flying across the fingerboard like greased lightening and it's all soul folks, it's all soul." I guess that's why shows like "Idol" are so popular. Some gigs are sweet just because the pay is better than normal but trust me, the jelly don't always make the gig. I had a gig recently, well it wasn't really a gig, if it's not paying it's really not a gig - it's a jam. I woke up one Sunday morning and checked my e-mail as is customary these days. "Can you come down and play a few tunes for Earth Day with Larry Coryell and a few other cats from the area." I don't know a lot about Earth Day but I was about to find out. I love guitar and electric violin; probably from my Eric Gale days or even earlier when I used to jam with Vernon Reid in high school back in Brooklyn. Vernon is the lead guitarist from the rock band Living Color. Now that I think of it, I've played with some amazing guitarists but until that day Larry Coryell wasn't one of them. That was about to change and money had nothing to do with - this was a jam, not a gig. The set was at a Buddhist center in Orlando so I packed up Cherry Lynn, my cherry red electric violin, and hit I-4 East. Devrick, Calvin, J.R. and Yves were heating things up, Larry was blazing and I loved every minute of it.  For many of us, the technology has siphoned our creative innocence. For many of us, it was the money - making it or needing it. There's not a single musician on the planet who didn't at some point early on wish to be a great player. For some of us, somewhere along the journey that flame begins to burn lower and lower until it's finally out and all that's left are the ashes of that dream. That Earth Day celebration at the Buddhist Center, I felt the flame burning high, not just mine but everyone's and it was great. I was reminded that day, jelly is good but jam is better. Article also published in Dallas Weekly |
