Guy

My purpose in traveling to the Dordogne Jazz School for the first time in July of 2008 was twofold – to learn to play jazz and to learn to write a jazz chart. I also hoped to make friends, but with my mission guiding me, I found myself avoiding the social life at night and instead going to a practice room alone to toy with chords and scales and voicings. Somehow, by the end of the week, I had bonded with people (thanks to the lengthy communal meals and rehearsal times.) Using the word bonded is putting it lightly. I had fallen head over heels in love with the 65 or so people enrolled in the course, from John, an 18-year-old from England who sat with me at the piano and helped me with my thirds and sevenths, to Reggie, a drummer who I believe was 82 that year. And I had fallen in love with the village itself, Monteton, and the surrounding countryside. By the end of the week, I realized that the person I was going to miss the most was a fellow named Guy, who was the drummer in my performance group. We seemed to always gravitate to the same table at meals, so we got to know each other gradually throughout the week. Plus, he was so wonderful to work with at the rehearsals. I managed to finish the piece I was trying to write that week (titled "Midnight at Monteton," subtitled "It's Silly, Really, But It's Love") and Guy was one of the musicians who performed it with me. He did a valiant job of staying in touch through emails, listening and commenting on each new piece I wrote (almost immediately after they were written) and we were able to perform together both in 2009 and this year.

Mornington, one of the tutors, describes Guy at the “quintessential Englishman,” which he is. Such a kind and thoughtful gentleman, he always saved me a spot at dinner, and always offered me a drink after our nightly performances. What catches me off guard is his offbeat humor. I laugh every time I think of the off the wall things that he comes up with. I also can’t help but like the fact that he loves my music and was willing to play drums with me on as many performances of my tunes as possible. I don’t have to say a word, he instinctively knows what style of hitting those drums I am looking for, even when I don’t know myself. We are such good buddies, it just didn’t seem right to have to say good-bye to him when the week was over. Especially since we ran out of chances for me to demolish him in ping-pong.

Claude

A French guitar player from Paris who I’ve known each of the summers I have been to DJSS, Claude melted my heart the first year with his touching performance of No More Blues. His playing is always heartfelt, and when he’s not on stage, he likes to tell little jokes and giggle. I found out this year that he is a great swing dancer, too. In the middle of the first week, the music revved up during the evening, so the chateau staff took the hint and removed the tables so we could have a dance floor. Claude grabbed me and started doing his moves – twirling me and spinning me and quietly teaching me that all I have to do is follow and everything will work. Breathe, let go and let him spin me again. This time, I was the one smiling and giggling. Claude and I enjoy playing together – we were in the same large group during week one, and he also played some of my tunes with me. When we were saying good-bye, he told me how much he likes the sensitivity of my playing and my compositions. A nice thing to hear from a sweet, sensitive person!

David

Another very sweet person, one of the sweetest I know, with a delightful twinkle in his eye, is David, a British guy who is now living in Russia. Behind the twinkle and the sweetness is one amazing brain. David loves to stay busy with a vast variety of creative projects. Music, woodworking, game design, computer programming are just a few of his passions. He has songs to write and performances to produce and instruments to repair and games he is in the process of creating. He talks fast and is never, ever not smiling (except perhaps when there is a contrabass clarinet in his mouth.) David is also the instigator of the funny moments on stage at DJSS, such as the free jazz performance featuring someone blowing across beer bottles and making strange sounds with a ukulele. David was in my week 2 ensemble and also played a couple of my tunes with me – a jazz version of Danny Boy, which was written for an Irishman named David, and Deux Chapeaux, which I wrote for him. When I asked David to play, his answer was “definitely yes,” which always makes me happy. In fact, David always makes me happy!

Irene

Soft-spoken and tender, Irene, from Austria, with the cool blue eyes, dark hair and red lipstick, is all about the music. We were in the same large group the first week, and we also performed some of my tunes together during both weeks. Irene also likes to win in ping pong (as do I) so it was nice to discover other friends who enjoyed being competitive but could still have fun with it. Irene kindly offered to let me do my laundry at her place, since there was a long line of people waiting for the machine at mine. When I found out about my grandma's death, Irene was quick to leave the dinner table just as the food was being served to spend time with me so I wouldn’t have to go through it alone. She was happy when I asked her to play three of my tunes with me – Midnight at Monteton, If You Only Knew and Lullaby. She really loves rehearsing, loved the music and plays with such heart. When it was time to say good-bye, she gave me a big hug and sweetly said “I like you!” I like her, too!

Portraits of Monteton Players

My travels home were such a nightmare, that I spent most of my nine-hour flight to the U.S. from Paris writing about the good things I experienced, so I could remind myself it was all worth it. David, one of the guys on the course, took some very artistic photos of each person as they were performing, which inspired me to tell my stories through "portraits" of some of the students. Writing them helped me remember why I love Monteton and all the people there so much. I'm not going to let all the late planes and trains ruin my memories!

If You Only Knew

Right after I left Monteton, France, in August of 2009, I wrote a tune called “If You Only Knew.” The opening 5 notes have so much wistfulness and emotion in them that they can bring a tear to your eye, whether you know the back story or not. While writing the piece, I was struggling with the distant between myself and my friends from DJSS, and struggling with the knowledge that Taylor, my then 18-year-old son, would be going far away to college in just a few days. I had the opportunity to play the piece in Monteton a couple of times during the past two weeks – once with Jonathan Bratoeff, the passionate French guitarist and tutor who I admire so much, and once in a jazz ensemble featuring Irene on sax. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to get through the ensemble performance, because another loss had come into play – I had just received the news that my 90-year-old grandmother had passed away.

I was able to be with Grandma on her birthday in June, and was thankful that her oldest daughter, my aunt Phyllis, suggested that I write a song for her. She was hoping it would lean more toward classical than jazz, but currently, everything I write leans toward jazz. I ended up writing two songs, an upbeat, happy tune called “Something For You,” and a sweet and simple “Lullaby” (with some dissonances in just the right places.)

On the first Friday night of DJSS, I performed “Something For You” with my Composers Group. During our rehearsals, I shared with the group the story behind the piece. Often I write the music, and then try to write lyrics that match the rhythm. The lyrics are usually strange and goofy, but they help me know if the piece will work or not. My thought was that my grandma loved pie so much, that when she saw a piece of fruit, she saw the fruit’s potential, as in, the fact that it would and should become a pie. So the lyrics that evolved were something like this:

Verse 1
One and one and one is three
Apples on the Pie Apple Tree
I hope you’ll pick some for me today.

Verse 2 (still working on it.)

Chorus
All I can see is an apple
All I can see is a Pie Apple
Up on the highest tree.

(Repeat Verse 1)

Two days later, I found out that grandma passed away that same evening of the “Something For You” performance. (In fact, right after the performance.) The following Wednesday, the day of her funeral, Irene and I played Lullaby again (Jonathan and I had played it previously.) It felt good to have everyone there thinking of my grandmother. If she only knew.

Excuses, Good Excuses

The French keyboards with the letters in the wrong places, the line of people waiting to use the computer, and the people screaming inside the computer shack due to the wasps. . .

But I did write many stories on the plane and will be editing and posting these in the next week or so. Thanks for checking back!