Patrick de Monteton

Meet Patrick. He’s the owner of Chateau de Monteton. He wants you to come and visit him!

When Patrick sees me, he smiles and hugs me and tells me all kinds of things in French. I tell him sadly that I don’t understand, so he simply says, “Tres Bien.”

He was very proud of the fact that Monteton inspired so much music from me. When he saw my songbook, he stopped speaking French and just motioned that he wanted his picture taken with it.

Patrick makes a mean paella on Friday nights, just before our big concert. You simply must try it!

Monteton – Not Quite Utopia. . .Or Is It?

There were so many stories to tell when I arrived home. Stories about the people I love, and stories about the not so perfect moments in Monteton. My friends were wondering why I yearn to go to this place, where I don’t get enough sleep, where I make a lot of mistakes on stage, where travel to and from can be quite stressful, and where the unexpected can happen more often than the expected?

To me, a real good story, or a read good movie or play, shows the depth of the characters through both their goodness and their dark sides. When I write music, I try to access both of these qualities from myself or the world around me to make a musical story that has real emotion and depth.

Living with a group of people, some of whom I’ve known now for three summers, you begin to see the fullness of their character. You hear them groan and complain. You get to know their quirks and habits. You also see their generosity in bigger ways than you might have known before.

Several of us were very tired on Friday afternoon of our final day there. We had rehearsed at least 10 numbers throughout the day. We finally had a break, and really needed it to gear up for our big concert that night, which would start at 9 and last until at least 1:00 a.m. It was 4:15, and we were ready to run out the door and jump in the pool, on one of the few warm days we had that week. Lesley walked in and asked us to try one more piece. The chords weren’t all named yet, and it was a difficult tune. I worked on analyzing the chords, and Alan quietly stood behind me and wrote them down for his part. I was so impressed with everyone in that moment. After 30 minutes, though, Guy piped up, saying he needed a break. You’ve never seen two people find their swimsuits faster than we did.

When I am in Monteton, I feel like I am in a fairy tale. I am Thumbelina, and the sparrow has flown me in to find people just like me. (Except that we are full grown, not the size of a thumb.) Now, you all know what happens in fairy tales, right? Everything doesn’t go perfectly, but there is a happy ending, and the characters grow and learn from their experiences. I am with people like me, who love to learn, who love music, who don’t mind the pain one has to endure in order for growth to occur. Who love and accept each other, foibles and all.

Speaking of fairy tales, during the first week I was asked to join a group on stage who were jamming on the tune “Someday My Prince Will Come.” I tried to say yes every time I was asked, because that’s the best way to learn. I didn’t realize that several others had said no, because the chord changes in the piece are very difficult. I thought that since I know the melody and can easily sing it, it couldn’t be too hard. It was too hard. I played so many wrong notes, that I finally had to give up, and just sit on stage and listen, so that I wouldn’t ruin it for everyone else. The second week, someone asked me to play it again. Guess what I said? If you guessed no, you don’t win the point. (Remember, earlier in the paragraph, I said that I try to say yes every time I’m asked?) Amazingly, the second time was far better that the first. Somehow, I knew all the changes, and felt comfortable with the piece. I love happy endings!!

Leaving Monteton is never a happy ending, though. Can’t we have a little more time in this place, this Utopia, where you are served three wonderful meals a day that you don’t have to cook, and you get to enjoy long conversations at mealtime with people from all over the world who are just like you? Can’t we practice those tunes just a few more times, and improve our performances? Can’t I have just a few more walks around Monteton, so that I will never forget the expansive and breathtaking views of the countryside?

Until next time. . .

Composers Group at the 2010 Dordogne Jazz Summer School

Stuart and Billy on trumpet, Vincent on sax, Dieuwke on flute, Dorian on bass, Tony on baritone sax, the other Tony on drums and myself on the keys. I started the group out with a strange assignment that has actually worked in my favor many times over the years. I asked each person to write down a letter from the music alphabet on a piece of paper, for us to use to create a musical theme. The series of tones had an odd sound at first. Each person played it separately on their instrument, and we likened it to something you would hear in a Hitchcock film – very dark and noir-ish. We tried the idea using different rhythms, and also experimented by rotating the notes around in a different order. After 10 minutes or so, we were starting to accept and even enjoy the sound. We then tried putting chords underneath the notes, and were shocked that suddenly, something that seemed so strange at first, now sounded quite beautiful.

I like this exercise, because sometimes, as a composer, it can be so difficult to start writing a piece. What notes do I choose? What if I don’t pick the right ones? What if I do all this work, and it doesn’t become a hit? By selecting something random, we can get going on the actual work (or you could call it play) – experimenting and toying and considering and choosing. And we can almost do it fearlessly, because we haven’t yet put our idea on a pedestal, making us afraid to mess with it or mess it up.

We had a temporary snafu in our schedule after losing our original bass player, so we began rehearsing one of my tunes titled, “Something For You.” (This is one that I feel comfortable playing the bassline on piano.) Someone in the group, I think it was Stuart, suggested that the B section of the head would sound nice as a flute solo. I thought that was great, so we tried it, and then decided that it would sound cool in that spot if the horns played harmonies underneath the flute. So we spent time arranging the notes of the chords for the two trumpets and two saxes. Everyone seemed pleased with the end result, and happy to have been part of the process.

Another exercise we did later in the week was to listen to our original notes-out-of-a-hat and the chords we had put under them, and imagine what the next rhythmic idea could be. Everyone sat quietly, jotting down their thoughts, and then each person played back what could be the “answer.” Each idea was different, yet they each sounded valid. Rather than asking the students to pick the next notes, I just asked for rhythm. With only one thing to choose, the notes actually flowed very easily from them.

We performed four of my tunes for the Friday concert – Monteton Blues (up tempo), No Brainer (a slow blues), Something For You (a happy little tune) and Lemonade (a very quick blues). The day before the concert, I was looking around the stage for something percussive that we could use in our performance. Something unexpected, and hopefully, something from the back of the room, rather than from the stage. I noticed the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and was imagining the owner, Patrick, banging on them to start our piece. Then I remembered the bell. Every evening, someone rings a bell when they are about to close the bar. And this same bell is used to announce lunch and dinnertime. I asked Dorian about it, and he said to ask Josh, one of the young guys who works in the kitchen. Josh was excited about the idea of incorporating the bell into the piece. But he wasn’t sure where the bell was. I spotted Manu, the owner’s son, who is a fabulous drummer and just happened to be home for a couple of days between gigs. He said he would get the bell to Josh, so everything was worked out. Except for the fact that we couldn’t really rehearse the opening, it just had to come together in the moment.

I had mentioned in one of our group sessions the importance of quiet, dreamy time for creativity. I also suggested that when there is a deadline, our creativity can kick into high gear. I noticed that my brain was not able to shut off until the moment we performed on Friday night. All week, I kept thinking, what else could we add to the music and our performance of it?

Our group was the first to perform on Friday evening, so it seemed fitting to start with Monteton Blues. The players were lined up and ready to go. Rather than count them off, I pointed to Josh at the back of the room, and he wildly started shaking the bell. Then it was, “A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, four” and off we went. Great fun, and everyone did a great job!

Big Dave

I only call him Big Dave because he calls himself Big Dave (and to distinguish him from the other Dave.) I don’t know if it is because he is Irish or what, but he is the funniest storyteller I know. If there was an empty spot beside him at the table, I often tried to fill it, just to enjoy more laughs and firm up my stomach muscles. At 6 feet, 8 or so inches, his stature meets his personality, and his nickname sums it up.

For Dave, I wrote a jazz arrangement of Danny Boy, which he requested. We had the opportunity to perform it together during the first week, and received lots of “awwwws” from the audience.

I want to tell the story that he told, but I don’t know if it will work coming from me. You really need to hear him tell it. So I’ll just give an outline. He said that he was staying at a bed and breakfast (I’m thinking it was owned by a family friend) and that he was promised the room with the big bed. When he left the room to find the bathroom, he came back and saw that someone else was in his bed. (He had actually walked into the wrong room.) Rather than double check, he grabbed the person by the feet and started shaking them and telling them to get out of his bed. The woman that he grabbed sat up, took off her eyemask, and started screaming that a “monster” was in her room. Dave realized his mistake and left the room. The woman ran out of the hotel in the middle of the night without paying.

If that woman only knew how wrong she was about Dave. He is a sensitive and soft-hearted guy, in a big and tall man’s body.

Guillaume and Piero

Ok, these guys were not on the jazz course. They are a couple of young men that I met in Paris last Sunday. On rue Mouffetard, at the restaurant where Ernest Hemingway used to live, I sat outside to eat dinner on a warm night. Two college-age guys were then seated at the table beside me I thought they were speaking French, and then it sounded like Spanish, so I was a bit confused and decided to ask them if they were French or Spanish. Guillaume was French and Piero was Italian. But Piero doesn’t speak French, so they converse in Spanish to each other (they met during their semester in Barcelona.) When Guillaume said “I’m French,” he said it so “English-ly” that I commented on his good English. Pretty soon we were all talking in English (thankfully) about important things like food and cheese and music and history. The hours flew by, and when Piero said it was midnight, my jaw dropped. During the conversation, they offered to join me at the jazz club I was planning to attend, but by the time we arrived, the jam session was over.

Lovely, lovely new friends, wise beyond their years. I loved how intensely each of them talked about their passions (especially food.) Guillaume gets angry when people don’t bond with their food like the French and the Italians do. Piero talked in detail about making homemade pasta, and about his village where, if you are a visitor, your plate is never empty. They both listened intently when I talked and responded to every thought I had.


They walked me to my hotel after missing out on the concert. As we were crossing the Seine, we stopped for a photo opportunity. The sky was dark, but the lights across the water made it look like ice and it was so beautiful. Both guys were majoring in European languages, and I wished I could have stayed and learned a few more phrases from them!

Egg, Chips (and Beans)

I’m forever grateful when friends, whether they know it or not, say something that sets off a desire in me to “write a song about it.” That’s what happened when John Paul Yardley sent me an email with the subject, “Egg, Chips (and Beans).” John was in my composers group at DJSS last year, along with Andy (who John actually addressed the email to.) In our group, we talked about our favorite foods, and as we talked, we listened to the rhythms we used when talking about something we love (which led us to some interesting improvisations.) Andy, from UK, but now living in France, said he missed having egg and chips for breakfast. So John sent an email (copied to me) with photos of Andy’s favorite food, prepared in John’s very own kitchen. I was so touched. I just had to write a song about it. My idea was to hide an “egg” in the tune. In my initial sketch, I started a tune with E-G-G, but that wasn’t working. So I kept playing with it and shifting and erasing and starting over. When I finally found something satisfying and excitedly created the chart, I realized the “egg” was missing. But it was too late, I really liked the tune. Then, when transposing to B flat for John’s sax, I found it, the missing egg!

John was here for the first week this year, and I hoped that he would want to perform Egg, Chips (and Beans) with me. We kept putting it off, and then decided to write it on the play list for Thursday night. So off to the practice room we went. He was not happy about the unexpected chord progression I wrote in bar 10. He was not happy about the extra flats in his part. I was afraid he might give up on the piece. We went through some sections, and then he asked me to leave so he could work on it alone.

About fifteen minutes later, he was ready. Joining us was Quentin on trumpet, Lesley on sax, Dorian on bass, Jack (John’s son) on drums and Leo on ukulele. We went on stage and Quentin counted us off. We played fast and furiously. It was fantastic. Everyone rose to the occasion. The crowded roared with delight. Later I realized I hadn’t set up my recorder. But my memory of the moment will stay with me.

John wasn’t able to stay for the second week, but that’s when Andy came (the one who John had sent the email to.) A group of us played the piece again at the final Friday night concert. This time it was Ollie and Lesley on sax, Guy on drums, Alan on bass, and Mike on guitar. Again, everyone played great, another wonderful moment. Andy was thrilled. (And I have it on tape!)

Stuart

Sweet is not the word for Stuart. Sour is not the word for Stuart. Lesley (one of my roommates) called him rogue-ish – I think that will work for now. Abundantly generous could be another phrase. He is always bringing something new to the table – literally. A jar of preserves and a bag of fresh croissants and bread for breakfast, a jar of olives at lunch, and for dinner, the incongruent bottles of champagne and ketchup. Stuart, from Wales, often says the wrong thing at the wrong time, but I am able to forgive him because of the kind “right” things he has said to me over the years.

He took me aside last year, after the first meeting of my Composers Group. Just when I thought he was going to say I was the worst teacher in the world, he said that he understood what I was trying to accomplish, and he was 100% behind me. He proved this by taking on the role of sergeant-of-arms during the rest of the week. He’s not afraid to say anything, and sometimes, what he says is actually quite kind. A great trumpet player, I was happy to have him back in my Composers Group again this year. I will remember him having a bit too much to drink and standing and singing around the campfire to a rapt audience of French singers that we shared the chateau with during week 2.