Back To Newport

Tomorrow morning, I am off to Newport, Oregon to attend the 2012 Oregon Coast Jazz Party. The three-day event used to be called The Newport, Oregon, Jazz Festival, but I’m told that it became necessary to rename it because of concerns that it could be mistaken for another festival. Perhaps you can guess which one. This poster, perhaps commissioned by the chamber of commerce or the tourist commission, clearly shows that the Oregon Newport is on the left coast. If you look closely, you will see that it illustrates some of the things I could do if I weren’t going to be in windowless rooms listening to music.

If you follow Rifftides, you may have noticed that the festival has an advertisement in the right column. It popped up there one day through an arrangement by the festival management with artsjournal.com, the blog umbrella under which we appear.

Full disclosure— the Rifftides staff had nothing to do with the ad’s placement and has no financial interest in it. Further full disclosure—I am going to take part in a concert at the festival. Long ago, Bill Mays said that some day he would play a History of Jazz Piano concert in the US, as he had in Japan, and asked if I would narrate it. Sure, I said. Later, Bill was invited to play at the Newport festival, er, party, and suggested the program to Holly Hofmann, the music director, who approved. Bill has spent decades preparing. I believe that he intends to use a full-size piano. I have spent hours writing my ad libs. Even further full disclosure—the management asked me to introduce some of the concerts. Marcia Hocker of KMHD radio in Portland will introduce others. If you wish to know who is playing at the party, click on the ad. It’s quite a lineup. If you’re going to there, please say hello.

Well, with all of that full disclosing, here’s the ethical dilemma: Since I have agree to be an ad hoc part of the event, can I also report about it to Rifftides readers without destroying my journalistic integrity? I’ll think about that on the five-and-a-half-hour drive tomorrow.

Speaking of Newport, right-coast variety, I learned by chance that George Wein and I share the same birthday, which at this writing has another hour to run. He didn’t know it, either. George and I exchanged pleasantries about that today. It was pleasant. Happy birthday, George.