SF Jazz Festival


October 24, 1996

George Shearing

Memories: A record store on Center Street, Between 37th and 36th,, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, I purchased, because I then felt some kind of love for her, an album of George Shearing, which I am all but certain she melted for candles, in honor of Carol Hayek's birthday (could it have been??). Why was I even included? I had no contact then nor now--only distant adoration that boys know of. George Shearing was my piano god--still is. I would have loved to have that album then, or even today.

You announced your status, your preferences, in those days, in restaurants and diners, by feeding quarters into the huge chromium, brightly colored refrigerator thing they called a "juke box," or, in wired houses, you flipped through a 'rolodex' of titles at your booth. With a quarter, you took control of the place--if you got there first. {And if you didn't, you could sneer your disdain for the choices of your predecessor. There wasn't all that much sneering, however. There were boxes for all tastes--it was just that they were mutually exclusive--Shearing admirers would not be caught dead in a place that played Sammy Kaye.}

Roses of Piccardy, September in the Rain, Jumping with Symphony Sid, Conception. I knew every note in the 3 minute domination I stole for two bits. I knew them and never believed I could play those notes myself--though I could. It's a permission thing; Shakespeare understood it--if you can do what the envied can do, then you equal them (as Girard suggests, it's all envy.)

Chuck Wayne, Denzil DeCosta Best, Marjory Hyames and who was the bassist? And here I sit, among fellow buzzards of a single generation--old farts living their memories as I am. How more real they seem than even last evening where I sat just 10 feet from where I am now--it isn't yet as real. I need time to make it real. And, what will happen tonight--whatever it is to be--obtains reality only in the future.

The house at 8:00 pm only spotted with fans--likely a manifestation of current preferences: Sonny cuts George, or something like that.

Diane Krall:

Wondrously warm woman who sings and plays perfectly.

And another thing: lood looking chicks are too much responsibility: example. I covet the one who are being closely guarded by their mates--that point, knowledge somehow makes the whole thing unappetizing, too much responsibility. Know what? all this points to a life of solitude; too many things I don't want.