Bob Brookmeyer periodically posts Currents, his reflections—not all of them ascerbic—on music, life, love, war and other matters. The next one is often a long time coming. The last one was on July 5, shortly after a club gig in New York.
The Jazz Standard is a very fine place and the people who work there are unfailingly gentle and helpful. However, they — and all jazz clubs — suffer from the fear of silence. The minute we stop playing, ON comes the music from somewhere, and it won’t stop until we get on the stand — sometimes not even then. It’s an established tradition and a vile one.
To read the whole thing, go here.
Serious musicians generally share Brookmeyer’s irritation with canned music in clubs and other public places. In my experience, most of them are distracted by it and incapable of closing their ears to it. This has come up before on Rifftides.
The truth is, I don’t want to hear Desmond, or any other music, in the Safeway, at the gas station, in Starbucks, the Mexico City subway, The Gap or the dentist’s office, certainly not on the street, and not often in my car. I don’t have an Ipod and don’t want one. I want a little peace and quiet now and then.
To read the whole thing, go here.
And to read a followup, go here.