The Lady Is A Tramp
We went to the Bistro last night to hear who I consider one of the best jazz pianists around. I can't be too far off, because notable players like Oscar Peterson agree with me. I'm speaking of none other than Joanne Brackeen. She's performing at the Montreal Bistro (in Toronto) this week with Terry Clarke and Don Thompson. These guys are no slouches either. Don Thompson normally performs on vibraphone and piano, and plays bass as a tertiary instrument. I have nothing but the utmost respect for players in this league.
She was playing jazz standards last night. If you're not a fan of this kind of music, it entails taking familiar tunes and improvising new harmonies and melodies to embellish them. A familiar piece of cheese like Moon River became something exquisite in Brackeen's hands. It's sort of like the classical idea of theme and variation. A layer of abstraction is imposed on the familiar so that the song becomes something new in the process. Of course there's the bop formula of soloing and then call and response between the pianist and the drummer. It's a time honoured method of holding it all together and maintaining form. It is a battle between expressing the composer's song and freedom for the improvisor to indulge a flight of fancy.
As an amateur rock musician, I try to do similar things to what Ms. Brackeen does. We'll pick an old rock song, and try to play it as differently as we possibly can every time we visit the tune. The solos and the little details change each time. The tune becomes new every time it is played. Despite my self promotion, I've got to assume a modest position. I am nowhere near the calibre of player that Brackeen, Thompson and Clarke are. These people are geniuses because the skill they bring to the jazz standard is miles ahead of us hackers in EM's basement. That's why they have a gig at the Bistro, and we are a garage band.
Joanne Brackeen comes to Toronto once a year to play at the Bistro with Clarke and Thompson, and it's an astounding thing. They probably never see each other in the other 51 weeks of the year, but they sound like they should be joined at the hip. Ms. Brackeen takes some time away from her duties at the Berklee School of Music to come to my neighbourhood and play at the local club. In between slurps of Creemore Springs, I routinely have to retrieve my jaw from the floor. I am delighted by this convenience, and then I wonder, "Why isn't she filling Roy Thompson Hall instead?"
She was playing jazz standards last night. If you're not a fan of this kind of music, it entails taking familiar tunes and improvising new harmonies and melodies to embellish them. A familiar piece of cheese like Moon River became something exquisite in Brackeen's hands. It's sort of like the classical idea of theme and variation. A layer of abstraction is imposed on the familiar so that the song becomes something new in the process. Of course there's the bop formula of soloing and then call and response between the pianist and the drummer. It's a time honoured method of holding it all together and maintaining form. It is a battle between expressing the composer's song and freedom for the improvisor to indulge a flight of fancy.
As an amateur rock musician, I try to do similar things to what Ms. Brackeen does. We'll pick an old rock song, and try to play it as differently as we possibly can every time we visit the tune. The solos and the little details change each time. The tune becomes new every time it is played. Despite my self promotion, I've got to assume a modest position. I am nowhere near the calibre of player that Brackeen, Thompson and Clarke are. These people are geniuses because the skill they bring to the jazz standard is miles ahead of us hackers in EM's basement. That's why they have a gig at the Bistro, and we are a garage band.
Joanne Brackeen comes to Toronto once a year to play at the Bistro with Clarke and Thompson, and it's an astounding thing. They probably never see each other in the other 51 weeks of the year, but they sound like they should be joined at the hip. Ms. Brackeen takes some time away from her duties at the Berklee School of Music to come to my neighbourhood and play at the local club. In between slurps of Creemore Springs, I routinely have to retrieve my jaw from the floor. I am delighted by this convenience, and then I wonder, "Why isn't she filling Roy Thompson Hall instead?"
posted by othercat @ 9:20 a.m.
2 Comments:
At 9:57 p.m.,
sassinak said…
i just don't understand why everyone left before the show ended.
i'm not even a huge jazz fan and i thought she was awesome.
At 11:59 p.m.,
othercat said…
I guess the old folks needed their beddy bies. I certainly wouldn't have walked out on Joanne Brackeen. She could have played all night, and I wouldn't have minded the lost sleep. You don't hear pianists like her very often.
Post a Comment
<< Home