This past Wednesday was the first night of five consecutive nights of jazz for me this weekend — five nights of very different and very diverse musicians from dozens of different backgrounds. My first night led me to the Vitello’s Jazz & Supper Club in Studio City to check out the Bob Sheppard quartet — with Steve Hass on drums, John Beasley on piano, and Darek Oles on bass.

With the exception of Steve Hass, who I’ve had the exciting privilege to see perform on numerous occasions — the Angel City Jazz Festival (along with the Darek Oles) and the West Ranch High School Super Jazz Festival (with Jeff Babko, who you met a few posts ago), to name a few — it was a night filled with firsts for me. It was my first night at Vitello’s, an intimate little venue on the second floor of the restaurant, which has housed some pretty heavy names in the past month — including Billy Childs, Julia Gottlieb, and Poncho Sanchez, along with many others. And it was also my first introduction to the music of Bob Sheppard and John Beasley, both of whom have some history in the past of playing together with Freddie Hubbard. Overall, it was a very eye-opening experience for me sitting behind Beasley on the keys — especially marked by Sheppard’s declaration towards the end of the first set that he never played the same tune twice with the same group of people.

Speaking of which, Sheppard’s group surprised us with a special guest towards the end of the first set: Billy Childs. Considering that I’ve spent many a long drive home listening and re-listening to his NPR Piano Jazz interview with Marian McPartland, it felt like my birthday.

My visit to the Vitello’s venue was sparked by my interaction with drummer Steve Hass about a month earlier to the show, after I met him at my high school’s annual jazz festival in April. Hass is quite the memorable drummer – and after realizing in only a few minutes in the audience of my high school’s packed theater that he was the same drummer I’d seen about six months earlier at the Angel City Jazz Festival with the Ravi Coltrane/Ralph Alessi group, I made my way backstage during the final waves of applause, insisted a former Idyllwild summer classmate that I needed to help him with his bass, and introduced myself to him. Although it’s much less glamorous writing it out now than it was in my head, I’m glad that out of a burst of seize-the-moment excitement I was able to become acquainted with Steve Hass — and I’m looking forward to introducing him to you as well.

Long Island-native Steve Hass somehow manages to be sensitive and aggressive, subtle and assertively polyrhythmic, swinging and funky, back-to-basics and progressive all in the same motion. It was especially evident in the first few minutes of the Bob Sheppard quartet’s first set – where in the midst of snapping off the introductory beats to his tune, “Bait and Switch,” Sheppard whispered to Beasley and Oles, “Just me and the drums.” In the simple saxophone-and-drums intro, it was quickly apparent that Hass has an understanding of the drum set beyond rhythmic games and shifting meters – there’s also a rich tone and a voice that emanates from his playing. For each of the three times that I’ve heard Hass play, it’s clear that he’s just as much of a melodic contributor as he is a rhythmic foundation.

There’s also something about Hass that I realized towards the end of the Vitello’s show and even more so throughout a conversation I had with some UCLA students who were sitting towards the front of the audience. As students of jazz, people like me and the UCLA students that I met like to fancy ourselves with “He sounds like…” and “She sounds like…” based on who and what we’ve been listening to in the past year or so. In my head I imagined a Bill-Evans-Scott-LaFaro-esque interaction between Beasley and Oles — but when it came to Hass, I drew a blank. For split-second moments I thought that I caught Philly Joe Jones or Paul Motian or Max Roach, but he’d quickly evolve to something else. In the end, it drew to this: Steve Hass sounds like Steve Hass, a great, well-mixed melting pot of everything he’s listened and is listening to — drummers and non-drummers, jazz and non-jazz.

Without further ado, here are some words from Steve Hass.

What got you into jazz?

I was into rock music first, but I was always attracted to those who had the most facility and technique on their instrument – you know, being a young musician, that’s what you’re attracted to right away. And in order to figure out what they were playing, I had to listen to who they listened to. For example, Alex Van Halen listened to guys like Billy Cobham. And if you look up Billy Cobham’s history, you’ll see he played with Horace Silver, and he was a jazz drummer first. I just worked backwards.

By the time I went to college, that was all that I was doing – playing jazz. I kind of shut everything else out because I wanted to study the music, the history of the music.

I decided to pursue jazz even before college, which is why I picked Berklee. I was studying a little out here [in Los Angeles] at the Percussion Institute of Technology, and my first goal was to be a session drummer, which is kind of what I do now. I used to go hear Jeff Watts play with Kenny Kirkland for the Tonight Show around ’92, and I was inspired and I kept going to see them, checking them out on records, trying to get into who they were into. I just got into jazz that way, you know? I really studied in steps. I didn’t want to hear about Jack DeJohnette or Keith Jarrett or Miles in the ‘70’s at first, I was bebop – I was transcribing Max Roach, Philly Joe Jones. I wanted to know how the greats developed and who they checked out.

I like knowing what inspires people and where they get their influences from – a lot of times I’ll work backwards to move forwards, because you eventually have to stop emulating and start innovating. You emulate your idols until you can create your own sound.

What inspires you and who influences you?

It started out with Philly Joe, Max Roach – and at the same time I was into more contemporary players like Jeff Watts – but initially guys that played more straight ahead, not a lot of liquid time, which was very understandable. And then eventually I got into the really loose players like Paul Motian. I don’t just have two or three guys that are strict influences – and now that I’m playing all different styles of music, it’s really everybody. (What about rock drummers?) John Bonham. He was soulful, and he came from jazz – you could hear it. Still one of my favorites. And another successful guy, Abe Laboriel, Jr.

Outside of drummers, I love Jon Brion – he works with Fiona Apple. Prince is also someone who inspires me as well. And I love singer-songwriters too – Shawn Colvin, Sarah McLachlan.

What kind of differences do you see in the jazz scene of New York City and the jazz scene of Los Angeles?

There’s a different creative energy in New York City. I think that’s because of the concrete jungle and the weather. It’s a little bit of a rougher day-to-day over there, and that inspires you to write differently – that causes people to create differently.

I tend to think that it’s a little mellower in Los Angeles. It’s more of a groove-oriented approach to playing jazz. But I have heard some real creative stuff – Kneebody, but I feel that they’re still drawing from all the guys in New York.

The other thing is that Manhattan is a concentrated scene. There are clubs everywhere – it causes an unexplainable energy. In LA, you’ve really got to be committed to the jazz scene – you’ve got to get into your car, you’ve got to drive, you can’t really relax because you’ve got to get back in your car to get home. In New York it’s a whole other thing – you can club hop, you can see amazing musicians nightly there.

What about jazz audiences?

A big difference? I haven’t seen a big difference. Do you think that might have to do with the college scene? Young artists going out, not having to worry about getting to a car – for example, you’ve never been here [Vitello’s] before. If you lived in Manhattan and this was down the street, you would have been here a dozen times already.

In New York City – first of all, the apartments are tiny, and you want to go out. It seems like Los Angeles is the kind of place a musician would come to after experiencing that, to settle.

Who are some of your biggest mentors?

At Berklee it was Ron Savage, and then my second drum teacher, Jamey Haddad. Both of them were in the scene – they both really inspired me to practice.

Tell us a bit about working in Ravi Coltrane’s group.

There were very minimal boundaries in that band, and he dug that. But it was very creative and there were a lot of odd meters. It was very open – it was cue-based music. We’d be in the middle of one song and he’d have a musical cue – not a head nod – and he would play different lines that meant different things to us. He’d play one line and that’d mean that we were going into a five-eight riff – just in the middle of a standard. And people would watch us and they’d be like – “how do you guys know how to do that?” Ravi got that from being in Steve Coleman’s bands.

What’s your advice for the young and aspiring jazz musician?

Really follow what your heart tells you to do. Just go with that notion and that feeling, because that usually will lead you in the right direction, even though the road is kind of rocky at first. I think if you commit to something, it’ll happen. One of the worst things you can do is bounce around a lot – not having a clear vision, not trusting yourself. I think if you pick a certain path, you have to follow through.

If you really believe in yourself and you love the music, things start to happen.

Steve Hass’s listening recommendations:

MILES DAVIS/FOUR & MORE

JOHN COLTRANE/A LOVE SUPREME

CHICK COREA/NOW HE SINGS, NOW HE SOBS

WYNTON MARSALIS/STANDARD TIME VOL. 1

A special thanks to Steve Hass for the music and the words. You can learn more about Steve at www.stevehass.net.

(from left to right: Rachel & Steve Hass; John Beasley, Rachel, & Billy Childs; Philip Maniez, Rachel, Brandon Bridges, and Tim Lin — UCLA jazz students)

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: J Ben Jazz/Steve Hass/Traveler

It’s been quite the eventful month at The Jazz Post. As of about a week ago I’m now eighteen years of age — and in about a week I’ll be donning the iconic graduation gown and retiring the title of this blog’s “high school jazz musician.” Although it’s a bit sad to let it go, this graduation means that after a week of much-needed hibernation you’ll be hearing much more from me here at The Jazz Post. But in the midst of last-minute graduation and summer plans (yours truly is headed to the California State Summer School for the Arts on the CalArts campus this summer), I’ve still been able to check out some local jazz.

In fact, a few weeks ago I retired a Saturday’s prom dress for a more comfortable pair of jeans the Sunday afterwards to check out Shogun Warrior at The Baked Potato in Studio City. I was there with the initial intent to chat a bit with pianist Jeff Babko, who’s the son of my band director (and in a previous post here), but I ran into a few more familiar names and faces — I met trumpet player John Daversa, whose composition Bare Your Soul is a part of our jazz repetoire this year, and was surprised to see that the bass player subbing in for the night was none other than Kneebody‘s Kaveh Rastegar, who you might remember from some previous posts (check it out here!). I also touched base with my roots a bit with guitarist Toshi Yanagi (who’s headed near my mother’s hometown for some jazz gigs in Fukuoka, Japan) and met drummer Toss Panos that night.

The Baked Potato’s an interesting venue — it’s hardly larger than the size of an average classroom, with old jazz posters peeling off the walls. They serve salads and, well, you probably guessed it — baked potatoes. Because of its relatively small size, it’s quite the intimate place — I was sitting about close enough to shake Daversa’s hand. In fact, I got a few words in with Daversa — here’s some advice he had for younger jazz musicians:

“I think that you have to be on the scene all the time. I think you need to be talking to the players, and let them get to know you, and absorb all of the music live. I think it’s really important to learn from the records, of course, and all of the jazz masters that have come before us. There’s something about being a part of what’s happening in live music – because it’s what’s current.”

Overall, Shogun Warrior is an incredibly energetic band — if you’re looking for that kind of soul and energy, they’re a monthly staple at The Baked Potato on the first Sunday every month.

I also had the chance to talk a bit with Jeff Babko, who’s a popular keyboardist here in Los Angeles as well as the keyboardist for the Jimmy Kimmel Live Band. Jeff swings by our school sometimes to play for us — a few weeks ago he played in my high school’s “Super Jazz” festival as a guest artist (along with drummer Steve Hass, trombonist Jacques Voyemant, saxophonist Alex Budman, and bassist Reggie Hamilton).

There’s two things that stay constant in every performance I’ve seen of Jeff’s over the course of four years — (1) vintage instruments and (2) high-energy performances. Other than this, there’s always something new and — in a way — rule-bending that emerges every time I hear him play. There were so many elements that made up his playing that night — three layers of keyboards, a trombone, and an electronic touch-screen controller (which was the source of some DJ-esque scratching noises a bit into the set).

There’s also an astounding contrast between the Jeff onstage and the Jeff offstage. Offstage, Jeff’s got an easygoing, laid-back demeanor; but onstage, Jeff’s intense and dynamic throughout the entire set (to the point, in fact, where I wasn’t able to get a still picture of him performing). I’m always glad to be able to talk with musicians like Jeff Babko — so without further ado, here’s some words he shared with me after the first set.

How did you get introduced to jazz?

My dad’s a jazz teacher, a band director. He always had jazz records lying around – the first one I remember hearing clearly was Ramsey Lewis’s Sound of Christmas. He also listened to the Crusaders. He kind of listened to what was called “soul jazz” at the time, as well as the bands of the day – Chicago and Blood, Sweat, and Tears, who were both incorporating jazz and horns into rock and pop music.

I was really fascinated as a young kid with album covers, so I would want to put the record on and look at the covers and study all the musicians. And I was also learning stuff off the radio. It all kind of collectively funneled into my brain – and I played piano from when I was really young, so I wanted to play whatever I heard and try to figure it out for myself.

The first formal training in jazz was from a guy named David Roitstein at CalArts. I was introduced to him when I was ten or eleven. I started classical studies when I was five, but I wasn’t very disciplined. I would always find myself improvising out of Bach. I would incorporate more jazz into my classical practicing.

What made you want to continue to pursue jazz?

All I ever wanted to do was play music. I kind of wanted to be a session musician in Los Angeles, since I grew up so near the city. Also, my dad was doing some recording sessions at the time. He wrote some jingles back in the ‘80’s, and he would let me come to the sessions and let me play in one of them when I was twelve. I knew that it had a real allure to it. All of that kind of funneled in and I knew that I wanted to be a session guy. Then I got heavily into jazz in high school – David Roitstein got me transcribing a lot – Charlie Parker and some others.

And also, people were selling their vinyl because everyone wanted to buy CDs, so I could get all this used vinyl for like ninety-nine cents a record. If I made thirty dollars working at Magic Mountain, I’d spend thirty dollars on records. I was just a sponge.

How has jazz evolved over the course of your career?

When I was in college and when I was coming out of college there was this big Young Lions movement – Wynton Marsalis, Kenny Kirkland, Branford Marsalis, this next generation. When I came back to LA there was this jam led by these guys called Black Note – they had a deal with Sony in the ‘90’s and they led a jam session. You had to wear suits – and I got into that for a while; that was kind of what was happening and I thought that I wanted to go down that road. I kind of forgot how much I liked pop and rock, because I grew up just really eating that stuff alive, too.

By the time I started touring and doing sessions, I started realizing that I wasn’t as purist as those guys. I liked to infuse this other stuff that I was listening to – rock and pop and Bjork and all these people that were doing stuff that was interesting to me.

I definitely went from that Young Lions, straight-ahead, has-to-swing thing to now, we just play whatever will work and this definitely has a blend – it has a rock element. I mean, we’re not afraid to say that we love Van Halen as much as we love Miles Davis. And there’s definitely a Miles Davis influence, he’s probably my hero as far as pushing the envelope and using every bit of input from the world into his music.

I was in the cab the other day in Kentucky and the cab driver was Somali. And he was playing me Somali music and I could’ve ridden in his cab all day. He was turning me on to the best stuff – you never know where you’re going to hear something amazing.

What’s your advice for the young jazz musician?

If you don’t enjoy listening to it, there’s no real point playing it. I mean clearly you love the experience of seeing the musicians get into the moment and experience the moment and communicating with one another – and that’s been happening since the beginning of jazz. That’s what’s exciting. If a student can see a gig where they get turned on by that, I think they’ll understand that it’s fun. Whether it’s through accessible, soul stuff like Eddie Harris or Cannonball, which is really fun to listen to, kind of R&B influenced – even Les McCann, I think kids can’t be expected to play or understand jazz unless they go see some or listen to some – then it gets in you and then you want to get it out of you. But you can’t force it.

Jeff’s suggestions for introductory jazz albums:

MILES DAVIS/FOUR & MORE

HERBIE HANCOCK/THRUST

WAYNE SHORTER/SPEAK NO EVIL

Thanks again to Jeff Babko and Shogun Warrior for the music and the words. You can learn more about Jeff at www.jeffbabko.com.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: 15 Step/In Rainbows/Radiohead

I’ll admit that I didn’t go out to the Blue Whale to see Bob Reynolds because I knew who he was, because I was familiar with his music, or because I knew he’d been playing with John Mayer. In fact, prior to last week, I’ll admit that I knew very little about him at all until my musician-friend Jacob Guardado began raving about him to me after one of our CalArts jazz classes after a show he’d seen at the Cordial Cafe.

So it was only the result of mere word of mouth that had me sitting in front of Bob Reynolds and a group of jazz musicians — Dennis Hamm (piano), Calvin Turner (bass), and Lemar Carter (drums) — on one of the Blue Whale’s soft plastic preschool-esque cube chairs. As I sat and listened to the band work out last minute pieces of their set, a strangely intimidating host asked me for my ID and marked both of my hands with black slashes — which, regretfully, didn’t seem to do much considering that an unsuspecting man asked to buy me a drink only several minutes later. It was definitely an unusual introduction to the Blue Whale.

It wasn’t until the band began their set that I realized how packed the already small Blue Whale jazz bar was. And rightfully so. Reynolds opened the set with the title track from his recent album, Can’t Wait for Perfect, a laid-back tune with a steady, rolling groove from Hamm on the piano, later joined by a soulfully stretched, simple melody from Reynolds on the tenor saxophone. At this point I was stuck in a trance by the reverberating sound of the group in such a small venue, notebook and pen barely dangling from my fingers, half-forgetting that I was supposed to be documenting something. I’d missed this.

About thirty seconds into the next tune, Jacob began making strange faces at me, impatiently tapping his fingers on his chin as if he was trying to remember something. And then in an a-ha-lightbulb moment, he whispered to me, “It’s Creep! Radiohead! He’s covering Creep!” His sudden excitement was almost unexplainable — but our mutual familiarity with this tune had us almost involuntarily leaned forward.

I’ll admit that even trying to explain in detail how beautifully synced this band was is a daunting task — and it certainly wouldn’t do them enough justice. But I will tell you that I melted at Hamm’s Herbie-esque lines and punching octaves, and the tiny burbles of ideas that were passed on between him and Reynolds.

There’s also a few things that I’ve learned about Reynolds. He’s got a calm and collected presence on stage, casually joking from time to time that they’ve never rehearsed the tune they’re about to play. (Perhaps he seemed especially cool and collected because the last jazz show I’d been to was of Paul Motian at the Village Vanguard. Maybe.) But it’s starkly contrasted once he picks up his saxophone and begins snapping his fingers — Reynolds suddenly becomes adamant and commanding through the tenor sax. Initially, it’s not entirely spontaneous. Many of the tunes open with a repetitive groove from the piano, joined in by Turner and Carter on the bass and drums, and later by Reynolds with the melody. But there’s always a point in each tune (with the exception of the solo-sax piece Reynolds played on his own) where Carter hits a crash and the band escalates in head-explosion-worthy energy and spontaneity — something that’s not captured as much in the new album as it is live.

The more jazz musicians I meet, the more I appreciate musicians like Reynolds — the friendly, open, non-intimidating musician who’s excited to share his work, especially with the younger crowd. In fact, Reynolds set aside some time for me between sets for a quick interview in the corner of the Blue Whale, where he shared a few stories and a few laughs with me. Without further ado, here’s some words from Bob Reynolds.

How did you get started in jazz?

I didn’t know at first that I was getting into jazz. It wasn’t like I had heard jazz music and then decided that I wanted to do it. But I knew I wanted to play music because I wanted to write music – that was my entry into it. I would sit at the piano and I would noodle around – there were sounds in my head and I wanted to figure them out. So I thought if I learned an instrument I’d learn how to play them. But it wasn’t like I had a specific desire to play something – I’d never heard of jazz. I got a saxophone because a neighbor gave it to me. It was that haphazard.

It took a couple years before I heard about jazz. I went to an arts high school in Jacksonville, Florida, because I went to a concert and I heard that high school perform. I saw kids who were about two years older than me just blazing on the sax – I wanted to do that. I really worked backwards – I started playing the sax, and somebody gave me a Kenny G record – like, “Oh, you play the sax, this guy’s famous.” And it literally was Kenny G to Grover Washington to Cannonball Adderley and then to Charlie Parker. I had to work my way backwards, you know, from the shallowest to the most deep musicians.

And that’s jazz, you know? To me jazz is not mine – I can’t claim credit for it. Like Bill Evans said, “Jazz is not a what, it’s a how.” I just wanted to make up my own music. Jazz is really the only musical art form where you can do that.

On introducing others to jazz.

My wife’s dad, who’s a big music lover and a big jazz lover, tried to get her into some Joshua Redman albums all while she was in high school. She had no interest whatsoever, but when she started dating me in college, I took her to see Joshua Redman and his band at a concert – now she’s a fan for life. I was the gateway drug, but I didn’t sell her at the concert – Josh and his band did. I think you need to see some good jazz to really appreciate it. You see that there’s interaction happening – you can’t ever get that from listening to a record. I think you have to see it to appreciate the beauty of what’s going on. It doesn’t mean that all jazz is equal – absolutely not. I think I would favor guys like Joshua Redman, Nicholas Payton, Roy Hargrove, Christian McBride – guys who’ve got funk and soul and blues in their playing more so than the players who are a little bit less root-sy in their playing. I think you’re more likely to find a connection there if you’re totally new to it.

Where do you see jazz headed today?

I think it’s pretty obvious now that the current generation of players are much more interested in embracing all of the influences from folk and pop music to singer-songwriter stuff and indie rock, and people are much more accepting of embracing those influences that are not just jazz. You just don’t hear as many jazz records coming out where people are just playing the same old standards – and maybe it’s cyclical, maybe that’ll come back around in ten years, that’ll be the thing. But I think right now, like the Radiohead song we just did [Reynolds performed a cover of Creep that night], you can appreciate what we do to it that’s different. How do you mix it all together? That’s the challenge.

What’s your advice for the young and aspiring jazz musician?

Show up to everything, meet everybody, and take every gig you can. You never know what’s going to lead to what. Case in point, I met John Mayer at Berklee in a recording session at 2 am that I almost didn’t go to. I was doing a favor for a musical friend to do this recording session from 2:00 to 4:30 in the morning. I did it, and that’s where I met John. Needless to say, that was the beginning of our relationship.

The other thing is that you can’t have a plan B. If you really, really see yourself going the distance, the passion has to be strong enough that there’s no backup plan. Very few people will be lucky, but you’ve got to be full tilt. All in. Totally committed. And people will sense that.

Bob Reynolds’ suggestions for introductory jazz albums:

JOSHUA REDMAN/MOODSWING

PAT METHENY/SPEAKING OF NOW

KENNY GARRETT/SONGBOOK

Thanks again to Bob Reynolds for the music and the words. You can learn more about him at www.bobreynoldsmusic.com.

And thank you to the Blue Whale for the lovely gifts — just for us under-21 folks.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Can’t Wait for Perfect/Bob Reynolds/Can’t Wait for Perfect

I recently spent the last few weeks with the Southern California School Band & Orchestra Association‘s All-Southern Jazz All-Stars — selected from about two hundred aspiring student jazz musicians in Southern California this year. It was quite the experience, to say the least, to be able to play with so many incredibly talented jazz musicians from so many different backgrounds — and it’s truly something that I’ll never forget.

Perhaps one of my most memorable experiences with the SCSBOA All-Stars was working with our band director, freelance musician Sal Lozano. In a nutshell, Sal is a woodwind instrumentalist who currently works with a variety of musical groups, including the Gordon Goodwin Big Phat Band and the Dancing With the Stars House Band, as well as a professor of saxophone at Cal State University, Long Beach. Although Sal did keep us in line during our rehearsals, it’s his lightheartedness and patience — as well as the dozens of stories he shared with us — that had me and the rest of the band so reluctant to say goodbye to him at the last show in Anaheim this weekend. I think it’s Sal’s ability to be serious and good-humored at the same time that made these rehearsals so memorable — for instance, I’ll never forget when he asked us to play “Happy Birthday” in eighteen different keys to his friend Tom Kubis over the phone during one of our breaks.

Without further ado, here’s some words from Sal Lozano regarding his experiences with the jazz world, just as he shared with us.

Tell us about your early experiences with music.

Sal: I started in junior high, seventh grade, on the baritone saxophone, and then switched to the alto about a year later. When I got to high school, I kept it going because it was very fun to do – I had a great passion for it – after a while I got a hold of the right equipment and I started studying privately with Greg Adams, and he hipped me to getting the right equipment and things like that. It all began coming together.

The first opportunity I had to play in a band like the SCSBOA Jazz All-Stars was the Jazz All-Stars in 1979. While I was in high school I would also go to Pasadena City College and play in the jazz band there. My friend Alex Iles and I would go over to Pasadena City College on Tuesday nights to work with Gary Foster, the leader of the band. They introduced us to a bunch of different things, and Alex and I would get together at his house and play all the time – playing along with records, finding things to listen to. We’d go to concerts, and I really just grew to really love playing music. And then I got to college – that’s when another world of music was opened to me and I began to really study the saxophone.

What and/or who introduced you to jazz?

Sal: My friend Alex Iles and I started to go to jazz clubs in LA. We went to Dante’s –I heard Super Sax play here – we went to Concerts by the Sea…we just kept at it. Alex would find a record or I would find a record and our parents would take us to Tower Records. We’d have the extra money and we would listen to things. We’d go and hear players play – we sought it out ourselves. At Arcadia High School, it wasn’t there. It had no jazz program; it had just classical studies. So we had to go to some other place.

I just basically fell in love with it. I wanted nothing else to do but to listen to Count Basie, and then eventually, Cannonball Adderley. I’ll never forget the day I was listening to the radio in my sister’s Mustang – it was KBCA 105.1 (now KJAZZ 88.1), and the DJ was a guy named Chuck Niles. I remember this alto player playing, and this was the first time I’d ever done this: I pulled over, and I sat and listened to him. I listened until the better end of his playing, and it just struck me. For that to happen to a high school kid – it really affected me. And Chuck Niles said, “That was Cannonball Adderley.” I don’t remember which tune he did, but it was burning – the time and feel and the swing and it just touched you like crazy. That was in high school.

In college at CSU Long Beach, I worked with John Prince, the head of jazz studies. John Prince was great because he would sing to you. He would sing rhythms to you, and he had such a great sense of swing – it really hit me as to how that felt to do that. Another thing about John is that he wanted us to play. He used to encourage us to not be afraid, and I don’t think I was ever afraid to – I didn’t care if I made a mistake and I made tons of them. I still do.

As a jazz musician, who are some of your influences?

Sal: Like I mentioned before, Cannonball Adderley, then Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, Stan Getz, Johnny Hodges, Marshall Royal – the list is going be endless – Clifford Brown, Miles Davis (early Miles Davis, the sextet), Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Mel Lewis, Buddy Rich, Sonny Payne, Frank Rosolino, Carl Fontana, Snooky Young, Pepper Adams, Gerry Mulligan, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn. And then more contemporary players, you know, the ones who are around now, and that’s Rick Margitza, Eric Alexander, Chris Potter, Dick Oatts, Jon Gordon, Steve Slagle, John Ellis, Will Vinson, Rich Perry. Like I said, the list is endless. I’m leaving so many out. I’m always listening to players; I’m always searching out things.

How has the jazz world you knew as a younger jazz musician changed to the jazz world today?

Sal: Styles have definitely changed. Back then, here on the west coast, there weren’t too many clubs that I can remember that were into brand new things that were a little more experimental. It was more straight-ahead jazz. I also didn’t know of many places that had jam sessions; not that they weren’t any – I’m sure there were plenty – but I was probably too young to even get into one. You know what I mean? But one thing I noticed is that there are a lot of younger players who are going out and finding out these places to play. There are so many gifted players who know who the legends are. And that’s where it’s at; the younger kids know who the “founding fathers” are and who these musicians were, and how they’re playing and what they’re playing, and all that. To me, there’s a lot of opportunity out there right now. I just didn’t know it back then in Arcadia.

What are your thoughts on jazz today?

Sal: I don’t see the interest in jazz declining whatsoever. I know that we’re still trying to push things through to try to get people to appreciate music in general, especially jazz, because we love it. What I do know in my experience is that there is a feeling sometimes that there are certain types of jazz that people don’t like, and so when somebody tells me, “there’s not a lot of jazz out there,” I tell them, “now, there’s not a lot of jazz that you like.” Now there might be some jazz out there that’s somebody else likes, or there might be some people who love smooth jazz or who love you know, something that’s a little less, well, experimental. But that doesn’t mean to me that jazz is dying.

What’s your advice for the young and aspiring jazz musician?

Sal: It’s a long, long road. The chances of doing things are slimmer than it was when I was growing up. The opportunities are somewhat fewer, yet at the same time, the demands are increasing. You have to be much more well-rounded, and the periphery that you use – your sixth sense – they all have to be up and running. You don’t just go out of college on the road with a big band anymore, there’s none of that. For the long haul, you’re going to go some other way of doing something to make a living – teaching music, working in a music store, working in a production facility as a musician, working in film production, television production, music production – things like that. While you’re pursuing the stuff that you want to do in your music, it’s tough. At the same time, I can’t not say that you need to keep your dream. Keep your dream. If you have an idea of what you want to do, you’ve got do it. You’ve got to go for it one hundred percent as long as you can, as long as you can survive being able to do that.

Man, there’s nothing like it. There’s really nothing like it.

You can learn more about Sal Lozano at his website, www.sallozano.com.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Whisper Not/Tom Warrington, Larry Koonse, and Joe La Barbera/Back Nine

There’s a few key things that have happened to me since the last time I wrote to you here at The Jazz Post. I’m now several weeks into my last semester of high school (which is a bit more difficult to wrap my head around than I’d imagined it would be), I’ve started studying with an incredible pianist at CalArts, and I’ve also started my last semester of the CAP @ CalArts program. The word last suddenly seems so many parts of this new year — of course, all up until the point I begin to pack my bags for New York City.

There’s hundreds of things that I want to do before I head all the way across the country — but perhaps one of the most important things I’d like to do is explore the jazz I have at home. That’s why I was happy to open the recent issue of Downbeat to a list of respectable jazz venues in the city of Los Angeles. Here they are, listed below:

Blue Whale

Cafe Metropol

Catalina Bar & Grill

Charlie O’s

Hollywood Bowl

Jazz at the Athenaeum (Athenaeum Music & Arts Library)

Lobero Theatre

Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA)

Steamers Jazz Club and Cafe

Vibrato Grill Jazz

Walt Disney Concert Hall

I’ve printed in bold all of the venues I’ve already attended — which is, regretfully, three out of the eleven listed. By the end of August, which is when I’m scheduled to leave, I’m aiming to reach most — if not all — of these venues. If you’d like to help me, or if you’d like to recommend a show, please contact me here.

Here’s some things to look out for in the next few months at The Jazz Post:

• My experience as the pianist with the Southern California School Band & Orchestra Association (SCSBOA.org) All-Star Jazz Band, directed by the Big Phat Band’s Sal Lozano. I’ll be meeting, playing with, and hopefully introducing to you some of the most talented high school jazz musicians in Southern California this weekend.
• Some words from the teachers, students, and directors of the CAP @ CalArts program — namely, the jazz students and teachers that benefit from the twenty-week course. Also, you’ll hear about CalArt’s newly-constructed and recently-opened outdoor amphitheater, The Wild Beast.
• The shows that I’ll attend at the venues listed above, CalArts, and/or wherever I find myself wandering around (jazz) music on a Friday evening.
• Your unexplainable excitement upon reading about my own experiences with jazz. (I mean it.)

Happy reading, and happy listening!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: 26-2/John Coltrane/Coltrane’ s Sound

I am now a member of the Columbia University Class of 2015.

This means that next fall, The Jazz Post will be told from the perspective of a Columbia University student finding her place in New York City. This means that I’ll be studying, reading, writing, playing, and performing jazz in one of the biggest and most influential meccas of jazz itself.

There are many people I have to thank for this. There’s the West Ranch High School jazz program and its ever-inspiring and always influential director, Mr. Babko, who led me into jazz in the first place.

There’s the Community Arts Program (CAP) at CalArts, and its students who facilitated my growth in this music. There’s the professional jazz musicians and promoters who gave their time and advice in response to my questions. There’s the kind neighbor who lent me numerous life-changing albums. There’s my parents, who constantly push me to think bigger and work harder. There’s my 450+ followers on Twitter who consistently nudge me to continue pursuing this path. There are my teachers and counselors and advisers, all who met my inquiries, panicked moments, achievements, and questions with smiles and solutions. There are the other students and musicians who happily shared my passion for this art. And there’s you, the reader, who keeps me writing.

I don’t think there’s any way to thank everyone enough for guiding me and encouraging me as I continue to pursue this path — a path that thrives upon jazz and journalism, and a path that, excitingly enough, now includes Columbia University and New York City.

With all of my heart, I thank you very much. I can’t even begin to imagine what this holds for my future and the future of The Jazz Post — all that I can tell you is that it’s surely going to be an incredible and fulfilling one.

Without further ado, here are the two tunes I submitted with my application. I had the thrilling experience of recording with one of my former CAP teachers (and someone I look up to very much), Tina Raymond (drums), and Emilio Terranova (bass). This was recorded at the California Institute of the Arts.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Human Nature/Vijay Iyer/Solo

During my sprint to catch a recommended  show at University of the Streets, I shot out this tweet:

To which I got this response from Fully Altered Media:

Although I never got any clarification as to what he was referring to by “youthful innocence” — a term that can be taken in several different ways (and a label I often get in the jazz Twittersphere) — my experience at University of the Streets did clarify something else: there are enormous distinctions between the term jazz club and jazz venue. Otherwise, I’m stumped.

In this case, University of the Streets could hardly be considered a “club” — marked by a modest sign on what was that night a deserted street, University of the Streets was simply a small white door opening to a narrow staircase leading to a cozy little apartment-esque room. It was incredibly intimate, and even more so casual — a few of the musicians waltzed even the moment the set was scheduled to begin, casually throwing jokes at one another as they adjusted the last few music stands and pushed the last few buttons. As I wondered how on earth they were able to get that white baby grand into the room in the first place (I’m aware that it can be taken apart, but the narrowness of the staircase is unforgettable), I sat in my chair next to a plaid-shirted college kid to my right and someone’s grandfather to my left. When I spontaneously attend a show like this, I usually can get an idea of what I’m about to hear based on who I’m sitting next to. For instance, I seemed to be one of the few members of the audience under the age of fifty at the Fred Hersch trio’s Village Vanguard set. On the other hand, I felt a bit more in place in the audience at Vijay Iyer’s Birdland show and the Angel City Jazz Festival.

I initially figured that the diversity of the small audience would tell me little about the Bill McHenry group — but I was deeply corrected. The quartet combined the mellow, down-to-earth sonorities of jazz (likely appreciated by the Fred Hersch audience above) with newer, more experimental sounds (likely appreciated by the Vijay Iyer/ACJF audience above). The mix, however, was far from a happy medium between the two; in fact, it leaned towards the experimental side as the set progressed, ending with a piece imitating and twisting the sounds of a wood thrush. Please take a moment to imagine the child of a tenor saxophone and a wild feathered beast. It’s peculiar, but it’s nothing short of incredible.

Just like the sounds of the Motian septet from the previous post, this is music to think to. This is the music that I’m leaned forward in my seat to, chin resting in hand, captivated. Perhaps it’s a blessing, in this case, that I have little ability in the dancing department — because I recommend listening to McHenry and this group with eyes closed and ears wide open.

Thank you to Ben Waltzer for pointing me in the direction of this show.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Daylight/Taylor Eigsti/Daylight at Midnight

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It goes without saying that New York City is a very special place for me, especially when I’m greeted with this kind of view from my hotel window. Last week I headed out to NYC, my second visit to the city in my lifetime, this time to meet with a university jazz ensemble as a prospective student. It’s definitely inspiring to see students three or four years ahead of me in a place that I want to be — especially in regards to playing ability, intellect, and character.

I believe that the most precious thing that NYC holds for me is this:

I’m not exaggerating when I say that I could reach out and touch Paul Motian’s ride cymbal that Sunday night at the Village Vanguard. But perhaps the most exciting feeling that night was the thought that some Sunday night over fifty years ago, this very drummer was playing in this very place with the Bill Evans trio for the Sunday at the Village Vanguard album.

I know that sitting directly in front of a drummer during a set isn’t the brightest idea for those who intend to keep their ability to hear — a lesson that I learned when I attended an electronic “feedback” student concert at CalArts — but there was a sudden spark of zeal that overcame me when I was motioned towards a two-seat table inches from the drumset. It was completely opposite from the experience I had with the Fred Hersch Trio Village Vanguard show I attended during my previous visit to NYC, where upon my late arrival I was seated against the wall on the opposite side of the room from Hersch.  Granted, given the small space of the Village Vanguard it most likely makes very little difference where you choose to sit, but there’s something exciting in the idea of sharing a hint of a smile with someone like Paul Motian.

My expectations were instantly met the moment the septet began their set — a crashing ride cymbal and the thunder of its spinning rivets, a booming bass; my chair was buzzing underneath my fingers. But as soon as my ears were used to the amplified musicians and the small room, I could hear those small idiosyncrasies in Motian’s playing. It confirmed at least one thing: this Motian has completely metamorphosed from the 1961 Motian of the Sunday at the Village Vanguard recordings. What perhaps initially raised my father’s eyebrows (and maybe mine, at times) in curiosity was the unconventional placement of Motian at the center of the ensemble. Motian did not function to simply play time or rhythm; rather, he acted as a melodic instrument, which is an idea that’s much easier to write about than listen to at times.

Frankly, this isn’t the group that you want playing at your wedding or your Bat Mitzvah. This is the kind of ensemble you listen to as if you’re reading a book — a very heavy yet very eye-opening book, in this case. I know there’s the age-old notion that the purpose of music is to make people dance — but this music is evolving into something that makes people think. There’s something that’s intellectually stirring about hearing an idea bounce from Jacob Sacks on the piano to Motian’s drumset, hearing it twist into something else through Bill McHenry’s tenor, listening to it rest on the strings of the viola (viola?!). The sense of understanding that came with the last hit on the hi-hat was the same feeling that came from turning the last page of Jane Eyre or Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man — and an exhausting sense of understanding, at that. There is some beauty that can be found in music that requires little brain activity to listen to, but there’s an even greater beauty in the kind of music Motian played that night at the Village Vanguard — although it’s eons away from the 1961 Village Vanguard trio recordings, it possesses a different kind of beauty.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: I’ll Be Seeing You/Brad Mehldau Trio/The Art of the Trio, Vol. 4

I was also recommended to check out the Bill McHenry group at the University of the Streets venue, which you’ll hear more about in the next post.

In the meantime, I hope all of you had a Thanksgiving full of delicious food and cheesy family pictures.

To put it lightly, I’ve been exposed to quite a bit of new ideas in this last month. The Angel City Jazz Festival especially reminded me that, accessibility issues set aside, there’s much of this music that I’ve yet to understand. I received multiple advisories that the concert would be very “different” — a “different” that I had understood to be a fresh, modern, eccentric type of “different.”

I was correct about these three assumptions, but this didn’t stop me from remaining petrified in my chair for the majority of the five-hour show — a feeling not of confusion or frustration or fear, but of bewilderment. I had never regarded my familiarity with tunes like St. Thomas and The Very Thought of You as safety blankets until they completely vanished from the scene that Sunday. Performers Ben Wendel and Wadada Leo Smith and Jim Black were holding the same instruments you’d typically see at a jazz gig,  interacting with one another the same way you’d see nighttime jazz club quartet interact — the difference being that the music was essentially their own. Though I could still vaguely hear some echoes of the music in the way it was fifty years ago, the voice of this concert was purely modern. I stumbled out of the Ford Theater quite overwhelmed by the impact and weight of these new ideas — and with a small awakening of my own.

Serendipitously enough, some of the most influential teachers, mentors, advisers, and leaders in my own exploration of jazz attended, performed, and even emceed at the Angel City Jazz Festival, many of whom were there without my prior knowledge. This included LeRoy Downs (included in a previous post here),

Tina Raymond (included in a previous post here),

Jon Armstrong (included in a much, much earlier post here),

and Vijay Iyer (included in a post here and here).

There’s a plethora of emotions that accompany exposure to something outrageously new. But after that initial shock, it’s quite an incredible feeling to look back and see how many musicians and writers and speakers carried me there in these past four years of my exploration of jazz.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Butterfly/Robert Glasper/Double Booked

This past weekend I headed to a more local venue: the Levitt Pavilion for the Performing Arts in Pasadena, CA — a mere forty minutes from my house compared to the six-hour flight to New York City. It’s the second time I’ve seen the Vijay Iyer Trio perform this summer (minus the drummer — in NYC, I saw Justin Brown; here, it was Marcus Gilmore from the Historicity album, along with bassist Stephan Crump); when I was back in New York a few months earlier I was able to catch Iyer at the Birdland Jazz Club (see the post about that here).

The Levitt Pavilion, on the flipside, was a completely different venue. The trio performed on a smaller Hollywood Bowl-esque stage as I sat looking up at them from a field of trimmed park grass, waving away the occasional pesky fly — quite a change from the dimmed lights and comfortable chairs of the Birdland Club.

The show was scheduled to begin at seven in the evening, but the Pavilion hosted a “Lecture on the Lawn” forty-five minutes earlier with Iyer, alongside 89.3 KPCC-FM’s Shirley Jahad, exploring Iyer’s history with the music and his unique perspective on it. Particularly interesting was Iyer’s wide breadth of listening; he mentioned musicians I’d heard from older mentors like Monk, Ellington, Andrew Hall, Randy Weston — and then surprised me with names that I’m even just getting into;  specifically, Flying Lotus, an experimental electronic musician based in Los Angeles. Poised and composed in front of an audience that eventually grew into hundreds of people crowded into the park, Iyer modestly remarked that he saw himself as just a part of the “historical flow of the music,” moving on to speak about learning how to play the piano by ear and gaining experience from working as a house pianist in Oakland.

“The music is larger than me,” Iyer concluded. About making music — “All I can do is make music that I like and hope that it resonates with other people.” On collaborating with others — “I really try to be myself,” but playing with other musicians “helps you discover parts of yourself.”

That night the trio played selections from their recent album, Historicity, along with a cover of Stevie Wonder’s Big Brother and one of my favorite Iyer covers, Michael Jackson’s Human Nature. I’m constantly intrigued by the fact that the focus in the trio doesn’t lie entirely in who stands out during a solo or who carries the melody during a piece, but rather in the exploration of what sounds right. Iyer’s pieces move along like a train of thought — smooth, connected, uninterrupted, evolving from one idea to another, passed along from one musician to another.

I also was lucky enough to get my hands on a pre-release copy of Iyer’s new solo album, Solo. (I admit that I’m guilty of reading and rereading his autograph – To Rachel, Best wishes, Vijay Iyer — with an involuntary smile on my face.) And especially fortunate for me is the first track of the album: Human Nature. I’m most likely hitting the replay button as you read this.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Human Nature/Solo/Vijay Iyer

(also, if you think you’re up to it, check out Flying Lotus: Do the Astral Plane/Cosmogramma/Flying Lotus)

P.S. This coming Sunday (August 22), jazz trumpet player Christian Scott is going to be playing a free concert at this same venue — come and check it out!