Reality Check

When you are in Monteton, it feels so real.  It’s not a dream.  It’s real, and nothing else is.  At least that is what Mornington said at around 5:00 in the morning, which was still evening to all of us after the concert on Friday night. 

Magic is another word that is often used when describing this place.  A few of us were at the breakfast table across from a man that was new to us.  I had noticed him taking photographs at the concert the night before, and assumed he was doing a story for the newspaper.  But he said he was an artist, staying in Monteton for a time just to paint.  He didn’t speak much English, but he did say, “Monteton. . .magic.”

A good friend of mine has heard me pine and whine, year after year, about going back to Monteton.  When I returned this time around, she sat me down (over the phone) and said something to the tune of – I don’t want to hear you saying if or whether.  You need to just say you are going back, and plan on it and believe it. 

So . . . it looks like I’ll be going back to reality the same time next year.

--Becky

Le Piano Vache

My last day in Paris, I had a big treat awaiting me: dinner with a real Parisian in a real Parisian restaurant, followed by a gypsy jazz guitar concert! Claude, a guitarist and fellow Monteton student, escorted me a few blocks away from where I was staying to a tiny place that tourists don’t know about (except for that couple from Cleveland sitting beside us.) I loved the vibe there – so much character, so many layers of posters and pictures and writing on the walls. To get to the toilettes, you go through the bar (2 steps away from your seat) and up very steep steps, to a very ancient looking second floor. (It’s strange to me that I find the smell of old buildings in France somewhat pleasant. The mix of stone and wood and who knows what else.) While we were waiting for the food, in walked the gypsy guitarist that we were about to hear in concert. He sat by Claude and they exchanged a few words. Claude introduced me as a pianist/composer from the states, and Rodolphe shook my hand and spoke to me briefly in English.
After a lovely dinner, we strolled over to Le Piano Vache. (The logo is kind of a stick figure cow with a body made of piano keys.) We entered into a dark, small but lively place, to the back room. There is a bar, an old upright piano, rustic small tables and chairs, and a few musicians setting up. A trio (2 guitars and a bass.) The room is also full of character, with layers of posters and writing on the walls. We sat about 5 feet away from the musicians. The music started and Rodolphe was a beast. So strong and confident, playing jazzy riffs and also some showy, gypsy-style riffs. So enjoyable, amazing, fantastic, brilliant.

Oh, but I haven’t mentioned my favorite part. Each time Rodolphe would start a new tune, the guys behind the bar would SHUSH everyone LOUDLY. Wow. It was all about the music. The locals were so excited to be in the audience, they scooted their chairs as close to the musicians as they could, and they listened!

Time to Go

I now know how to flush every type of toilette in France.  You’ve got your lever on the floor that you step on.  Your pull chain hanging from the ceiling.  Your metal pull sticking up from the top of a little hole on the tank (I’m guessing that that one was make-shift.)  The sub-divided, flat rectangle on top of the tank that you push in.  The same rectangular piece, but mounted on the wall.  And the quarter-sized circle on top of the tank that you push in.

Do What Comes To Mind

I’m at the Tuileries Gardens near the Louvre, trying to get a good picture of the formal, perfectly coiffed bushes. Standing on a bench is not going to elevate me enough to see the patterns that I would be able to see from the sky. I look around and notice the ferris wheel at the little amusement park just behind me.  Immediately, I tell myself it’s a stupid idea.  I can’t ride a ferris wheel!  Then I’m reminded of my words – “write what comes to mind.”  I decide to substitute “do” for “write” and let my feet lead me to the Wheel of Paris.

My negative voice tries again.  “It costs money?  I’m not paying that!”  The pal on my other shoulder counters with, “Well, how else are you going to get that view?”

I step firmly to the ticket line, and enjoy a fabulous view of the entire city – the Seine, all of the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Couer, the Louvre, some skyscrapers to the west that I didn’t know existed, and of course, the Tuileries.

Au Piano Muet

Friday night/Saturday morning in Monteton sort of blurs together.  The concert ended at about 2 a.m.  Then it was time to say good-bye. Which for me lasted 3½ more hours.  A couple of hours of sleep, quick packing, and a quick breakfast later, I’m back on a train to Paris.  I arrive early evening, and notice a favorite restaurant that I happened upon last year, just steps away from my hotel.  My plan was to go straight to bed and catch up on sleep. . .but I couldn’t stop thinking about the amazing salad from Au Piano Muet. . . In a trance, I found myself seated there, asking for Savoyard salad, with the to-die-for bacon (“red ham”) cubes of emmental cheese, local tomatoes and the perfectly simple dressing.  After filling every inch of my stomach, I went straight to bed for a well-deserved 12 hours of sleep.  (To make up for the 24 hours of sleep I had had during the entire week in Monteton.) 

World Premieres!

Seven world premieres in seven days, eight performances total (two of “Once is Not Enough!”)  I’m so thankful for all the wonderful friends who performed my music with me in Monteton:

My Knee Mo’ – David Marlton-clarinet, Tanguy Pellen-sax, Dave Besnard-guitar, Dorian Lockett-bass, Guy Clapham-drums

Once Is Not Enough – Quentin Collins-trumpet, Ian Bumstead-sax, Jonathan Bratoeff-guitar, Ferg Ireland-bass, Guy Clapham-drums

Can’t Let It Go – Quentin Collins-trumpet, Ian Bumstead-sax, Jonathan Bratoeff-guitar, Ferg Ireland-bass, Guy Clapham-drums

Spring Swing – Ian Bumstead-sax, Dave Besnard-guitar, Ferg Ireland-bass, Guy Clapham-drums

And Then There Were Two – Quentin Collins-trumpet, Ian Bumstead-sax, Claude Broclain-guitar, Ferg Ireland-bass, Guy Clapham-drums

I Digress – Steve Pringle-piano, Ian Bumstead-sax, Jonathan Bratoeff-guitar, Ferg Ireland-bass, Nic France-drums

Bullet Proof Blues – Quentin Collins-trumpet, Mark Lockheart-sax, Jonathan Bratoeff-guitar, Ian Bumstead-sax, Alex Moore-bass, Manu Feramus-drums

(We played Spring Swing on Tuesday night, July 26, and unfortunately, I ran to the stage without getting someone to push the record button for me.  If anyone happened to catch this on video or audio, please let me know!!)

Audio files are available at:  http://www.mediafire.com/?4zw6087ll4e5k

Video links:  https://www.facebook.com/video/?id=748632754

Once is Not Enough video (thanks to Tanguy Pellen!):  https://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=10150276183146168

I Digress

When people ask me about my favorite moment in Monteton, it is very difficult to choose.  There are so many that I have jotted down.  I’ll just start talking about one of them, and we’ll see where it goes. 

I asked Steve, one of the piano tutors, if he would consider performing one of my tunes.  “I Digress,” was so difficult in every way, between the complex chords and the off-kilter form and the rhythm, that I had trouble playing it once the head was over and it was time for comping and soloing.  I really enjoy his playing and wanted to hear his take on it.  He said yes, and helped me gather up some of the other tutors (Ian, Jonathan, Ferg and Nic) to run through it on stage.

I was in the front row, on the edge of my seat.  The performance was nothing short of electric, amazing, astounding. Maybe because of the difficulty, each musician was fully engaged in the moment.  If there had been a video camera on me, you would have seen big bright eyes and a huge smile throughout.  I probably made the loudest “woo-hoos!” when they finished.  The guys came off stage, and said “That was hard!”  But they also said that they loved it. 

Jonathan, the guitar teacher who I have great respect for, and who played most of my new tunes throughout the week, gave me some wonderful compliments that will keep me going for a long time.  “You are a great jazz composer.  Where are you coming up with these ideas?  This one is so modern!  Who are you listening to??”

I had been working on the piece for two years.  Twenty-two measures, and it took me that long to figure out?  The original idea pretty much came to me all at once, on an August day in 2009.  It was the naming of the chords, the understanding of the bass line I had in mind, and the confusion about how to perform it that kept me from showing it to anyone.

The moments after that performance were surreal.  It was like I had made the final touchdown and won the game, and was being hoisted up on the teams’ shoulders to a cheering crowd.  Except that it wasn’t really like that.  No one actually picked me up.  The next piece on the list was already in progress, and the audience had moved on to listen and cheer for the other players. It was just one of those times when you felt like it was all worth it.