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.

Alan and Suzanne

Hee Hee Hee says Alan, every time he wins a point in ping pong. With his lilting Scottish accent, it’s easy to forgive him for his mean streak. Alan was in my large ensemble during week 2, and also played bass with me on many of the performances of my tunes during that week. My favorite moment with him was hearing the “Scottish scat” that can forth from his lips during a group session where we were asked to sing an improvisation.

Alan is with Suzanne, who plays flute and sax, and smiles and laughs all the time (except when she is concentrating on ping pong.) She is the most ruthless competitor – I can’t even come close to beating her. We had a nice moment talking about our children and our work (which rarely happens in Monteton – usually the conversations are about music, music, music or silly thing.) Suzanne was also in my large group and played my down and dirty “B-3 Blues” with me.

The Tutors

Quentin Collins – Fabulous trumpet player. He’s a great teacher, and gave me some tools that I really think I can apply this year to my practicing. He also played with me on my “Egg, Chips (and Beans)” and I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t get it on tape, because his solo was off the charts!


Jonathan Bratoeff – Very sensitive French guitarist. One of my favorite moments was a rehearsal with Jonathan. We were going over a couple of my tunes that we decided to play as duets for my Monday seminar. I was worried that I couldn’t pull it off without a bass player and drummer, but Jonathan assured me that everything would be fine. These I did record and his sensitivity and sensibility are amazing. The patterns that he comes up with are so distinctively him, and when you watch him play, you know you are watching the real deal. He is always completely involved in his performance.


Dorian Lockett – Brilliant bass player and always jolly director of DJSS, along with his wife, Andrea Vicari. We were thrilled to have Dorian join my Composers Group on week one. He really helped us “find our groove” for our Friday night performance.

Andrea Vicari – Andrea makes playing jazz piano look so easy. She led the piano classes for week one, and also led my large ensemble for part of week two. Andrea’s assignment to us was to write down every note and rhythm of a sax solo from a 1940’s recording. She used a program called Transcribe, which made it possible to slow down the notes without distorting the tones. I had heard that transcribing solos was an important part of daily jazz practice, but I never could stick with it. Doing it as a group, a little at a time, made what seemed like an impossible task, possible.


Mornington Lockett – I had the opportunity to work with this highly regarded sax player one day last year. This year, he was around for the full second week, dividing his time between the two large ensembles. His patience and attention to detail astounds me. On one particular tune, I was having trouble figuring out good piano voicings for the chord progression. So Mornington played some examples at the piano and said “Do you have it?” I was embarrassed to say no, I don’t. Watching someone’s fingers when they are moving too fast and trying to memorize their movements was a little over my head. Rather than give up on me, Mornington said “Sit down beside me and write down what I am doing.” That I could do! Mornington joined a group of us on my “B-3 Blues” and brought the house down with his stunning solo!

And thanks to Mark Lockheart, Nic France and Dave Gelly, who joined me on “Monteton Blues” and “Is This the Real Thing?” It was great working with all of the fine tutors!

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.