All Jazzed Up
It has recently been drawn to my attention that a blogger is for life, not just for Christmas. I have received hate mail from close family members urging me to update my blog or die. Therefore I will now continue my blog.
Last Saturday, I was invited by my Colombian friend Nic to go and see him play drums at a live house in Akasaka. He goes to this place every Monday for their session night where you take turns getting up on stage to play cool jazz tunes with some very good musicians. Nic tells me that, among others, a very famous American jazz bass player by the name of Stanley Gilbert goes there every Monday to jam. Very cool if you're into jazz. Not so cool if heavy metal chug and blazing speed runs at impressive volume are your fancy. Nevertheless, I allowed myself to be seductively lured into the world of jazz for a night. After all, this wasn't a session night - it was a trial for Nic to see if he could become a permanent member of the Saturday night show. He also mentioned that they were going to be playing bossa nova and I was intrigued to see how different it would be live, compared with my Casiotone keyboard's rhythm section.
Well, I rocked up and out of the subway station in Akasaka which is kind of an older persons' Roppongi (night club district) full of small, excessively overpriced bars, live music joints and hostess clubs - much sauce to be had for old dudes with gold teeth and Gucci man bags. I found the club easily enough with my skillful eye (the other one was poked out by a crow), ventured to the elevator and arrived on the second floor in my best jazz stance, five minutes before the show was due to start.
I was greeted in a friendly manner by the female proprietor who apparently used to be a jazz singer of note (aren't puns great). In my suavest gait, I proceeded to follow the old girl into the main club area which was outfitted like a billiard room in an old English mansion. No disrespect intended, but the Japanese tend to go well astray when it comes to doing the European style thing. Art Deco lamp stands and mahogany display cases filled with gold-rimmed granny tea cups and Beatrix Potter crockery, plonked rather awkwardly in the corner of a tatami-mat room. This club didn't have tatami mats but I have seen many Japanese living rooms with such furniture. Although I guess we can't complain - how many of us have those mini curtains that hang over doorways or framed Japanese calligraphy on our walls??? I am sure the locals here would think that pretty cheezy. May as well tack a big block of Coon on your livingroom wall. Anyway, back to the story. Added to the artistic decor was velour seating typical of Japanese "snack" bars, signatures of famous people on framed cards and a lamp-lit painting on the wall that changed colour as the lamp slowly dimmed on and off. I could smell the gouda on that one at ten paces. But! None of that compared to the stark reality that was present before me. For I was infact the only person in the room. The sole customer, apart from the band. I wanted to make an about turn and charge out of there in a heavy metal manner, but I was quickly escorted by my hostess to a table right in front of the band - yes, these three musicians were going to play for me. Just me. It was really fucking bad man.
Then came the menu. I wasn't sure how much all of this was going to cost but I was told that the "music charge" was 3000yen ($35) plus whatever for drinks. So I opened the menu and gazed cooly at the contents, trying ever so hard to mask the grief of my solitude. After about fifteen seconds, my eyes actually focussed on the paper to see some writing that said "beer $13". I blinked a few times, shook my head and then looked at a different part of the page to see something else that said "whiskey $21". My grief suddenly turned to panic as I searched for the softdrinks section. I fumbled through the pages but only saw "Cognac $28". No, no ,no!!! SOFTDRINKS! Ahhh cola! I found cola! But wait: "cola $8.50" Shit! I was trapped! What about coffee? "coffee $15, (two cups)!" What kind of evil menu only allows you to buy coffee two cups at a time.
My bewilderment was interupted only by the old girl coming back with a smile to receive my ski resort-priced order. I looked at her face. I could read her mind. She was saying, "You should cover the bass player." Upon being queried as to my selection, I had to quickly make a decision. Coke was what I wanted, but bad form in a jazz bar. I decided to cut my losses and order the double coffee - if I paced myself carefully I could get out of this relatively unscathed.
"I'm still recovering from a hangover so I might just have the coffee," I said with attempted joviality. She looked up and glared at me like I'd just confessed to raping her daughter. After a few seconds she broke her glare and said, "white or black?" I could read her mind again. She was saying, "Fucking gaijin." I indicated that black coffee would suffice and then she vanished only to return once again to deliver my coffee.
The band. Fortunately, the band waited another half hour for a few more punters to rock up and fortunately two more did soon after. The band then started up and played very nice jazz. The piano player was awsome - a true shredder. The bass player was a bit of a wanker. His solos were way too long and self indulgent - even for jazz. And his double bass intonation was suspect. I wouldn't be so harsh on the dude except for the fact he didn't provide Nic with any information about what they were going to play. All he did was snap his fingers to a tempo as a count in to the song and he expected Nic to follow suit without any reference to style or any song titles. He was really putting Nic on the spot which, even in the most professional of realms, is unnecessary in my opinion. There's no harm in taking just a few seconds to mention the style of the song etc and making sure everyone knows what they are playing. I guess he was putting him under pressure to see how he went, but I think that is missing the big picture a bit. Needless to say, Nic kicked ass - he is a killer drummer. There will be further mention of my Colombian friend in blog entries to come as we are together involved in things musical.
Anyway, that concludes this rather lengthy blog entry.
Last Saturday, I was invited by my Colombian friend Nic to go and see him play drums at a live house in Akasaka. He goes to this place every Monday for their session night where you take turns getting up on stage to play cool jazz tunes with some very good musicians. Nic tells me that, among others, a very famous American jazz bass player by the name of Stanley Gilbert goes there every Monday to jam. Very cool if you're into jazz. Not so cool if heavy metal chug and blazing speed runs at impressive volume are your fancy. Nevertheless, I allowed myself to be seductively lured into the world of jazz for a night. After all, this wasn't a session night - it was a trial for Nic to see if he could become a permanent member of the Saturday night show. He also mentioned that they were going to be playing bossa nova and I was intrigued to see how different it would be live, compared with my Casiotone keyboard's rhythm section.
Well, I rocked up and out of the subway station in Akasaka which is kind of an older persons' Roppongi (night club district) full of small, excessively overpriced bars, live music joints and hostess clubs - much sauce to be had for old dudes with gold teeth and Gucci man bags. I found the club easily enough with my skillful eye (the other one was poked out by a crow), ventured to the elevator and arrived on the second floor in my best jazz stance, five minutes before the show was due to start.
I was greeted in a friendly manner by the female proprietor who apparently used to be a jazz singer of note (aren't puns great). In my suavest gait, I proceeded to follow the old girl into the main club area which was outfitted like a billiard room in an old English mansion. No disrespect intended, but the Japanese tend to go well astray when it comes to doing the European style thing. Art Deco lamp stands and mahogany display cases filled with gold-rimmed granny tea cups and Beatrix Potter crockery, plonked rather awkwardly in the corner of a tatami-mat room. This club didn't have tatami mats but I have seen many Japanese living rooms with such furniture. Although I guess we can't complain - how many of us have those mini curtains that hang over doorways or framed Japanese calligraphy on our walls??? I am sure the locals here would think that pretty cheezy. May as well tack a big block of Coon on your livingroom wall. Anyway, back to the story. Added to the artistic decor was velour seating typical of Japanese "snack" bars, signatures of famous people on framed cards and a lamp-lit painting on the wall that changed colour as the lamp slowly dimmed on and off. I could smell the gouda on that one at ten paces. But! None of that compared to the stark reality that was present before me. For I was infact the only person in the room. The sole customer, apart from the band. I wanted to make an about turn and charge out of there in a heavy metal manner, but I was quickly escorted by my hostess to a table right in front of the band - yes, these three musicians were going to play for me. Just me. It was really fucking bad man.
Then came the menu. I wasn't sure how much all of this was going to cost but I was told that the "music charge" was 3000yen ($35) plus whatever for drinks. So I opened the menu and gazed cooly at the contents, trying ever so hard to mask the grief of my solitude. After about fifteen seconds, my eyes actually focussed on the paper to see some writing that said "beer $13". I blinked a few times, shook my head and then looked at a different part of the page to see something else that said "whiskey $21". My grief suddenly turned to panic as I searched for the softdrinks section. I fumbled through the pages but only saw "Cognac $28". No, no ,no!!! SOFTDRINKS! Ahhh cola! I found cola! But wait: "cola $8.50" Shit! I was trapped! What about coffee? "coffee $15, (two cups)!" What kind of evil menu only allows you to buy coffee two cups at a time.
My bewilderment was interupted only by the old girl coming back with a smile to receive my ski resort-priced order. I looked at her face. I could read her mind. She was saying, "You should cover the bass player." Upon being queried as to my selection, I had to quickly make a decision. Coke was what I wanted, but bad form in a jazz bar. I decided to cut my losses and order the double coffee - if I paced myself carefully I could get out of this relatively unscathed.
"I'm still recovering from a hangover so I might just have the coffee," I said with attempted joviality. She looked up and glared at me like I'd just confessed to raping her daughter. After a few seconds she broke her glare and said, "white or black?" I could read her mind again. She was saying, "Fucking gaijin." I indicated that black coffee would suffice and then she vanished only to return once again to deliver my coffee.
The band. Fortunately, the band waited another half hour for a few more punters to rock up and fortunately two more did soon after. The band then started up and played very nice jazz. The piano player was awsome - a true shredder. The bass player was a bit of a wanker. His solos were way too long and self indulgent - even for jazz. And his double bass intonation was suspect. I wouldn't be so harsh on the dude except for the fact he didn't provide Nic with any information about what they were going to play. All he did was snap his fingers to a tempo as a count in to the song and he expected Nic to follow suit without any reference to style or any song titles. He was really putting Nic on the spot which, even in the most professional of realms, is unnecessary in my opinion. There's no harm in taking just a few seconds to mention the style of the song etc and making sure everyone knows what they are playing. I guess he was putting him under pressure to see how he went, but I think that is missing the big picture a bit. Needless to say, Nic kicked ass - he is a killer drummer. There will be further mention of my Colombian friend in blog entries to come as we are together involved in things musical.
Anyway, that concludes this rather lengthy blog entry.
posted by Kebber at 6:33 AM
2 Comments:
Oh Kurky, it's the Majong game all over again. I can sympathize though and would too have gone for the coffee. What a bunch of wankers. You should have given the bassist shite since you were solely financing his career with that coffee. I suspect this is the whole 'jazz' pretence as I have heard Blue note is even worse (although they at least can pull a crowd.) I'm always amused by ex-pat has-been musicians who turn up living in Japan (wow two hypens in one sentence) It makes me wonder why they aren't pursuing fame in their own country. Bit like baseball players me thinks.
Kurt I don't believe I've ever seen a block of Coon cheese tacked to a wall. However bread is an entirely different story.Don't forget to checkout bagophun for a new Camb-related game!
Post a Comment
<< Home