Up until yesterday I had a solid assertion that Los Angeles and New York City had one very distinct contrast — New York City had the jazz scene I desired, and Los Angeles did not. There is, of course, a jazz scene that does exist here in Los Angeles — the only problem was that I’d only ever encountered it through venues like the Hollywood Bowl and the Walt Disney Concert Hall; venues that have housed jazz greats like Sonny Rollins and Pat Metheny, but consistently (and perhaps inevitably, because both are formal theaters) maintain a separation between performer and audience. I’m sure that anyone can understand my uncontainable excitement when I went from sitting several rows away from Sonny Rollins at the Walt Disney Concert Hall to several inches away from Jimmy Heath at the Blue Note Jazz Club.

I was pretty convinced that there was no chance in Los Angeles to see the kind of performances I’d seen in the New York City jazz clubs — those crowded, tightly-packed jazz clubs teeming with jazz enthusiasts, the opportunity to be casually sitting inches away from world-renowned jazz performers. Even the slightest bit of hope I’d found in coming across the album Bill Evans Trio At Shelly’s Manne-Hole in the CalArts library was diminished when I learned that the once-popular West Coast club was a thing of the past.

This mentality changed when I was invited to see Cassandra Wilson at the Catalina Jazz Club by Nick Szatmari, jazz bassist as well as an agent at the Universal Attractions Agency, whom I’d met on the airplane heading home from New York City. When I think about it, there’s some coincidental irony here — I just so happened to be wearing a shirt I’d bought at the Birdland Jazz Club, which sparked the conversation with Szatmari. It’s almost as if in some strange turn of events the New York City jazz scene introduced me to the Los Angeles jazz scene.

The Catalina Jazz Club was like nothing I’d ever seen here in Los Angeles. It was — by virtue of its location on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California — one of the larger venues I’ve been to, but it still possessed the same intimate qualities of the jazz clubs I’d visited in New York City.

And then there was Cassandra Wilson. She stepped on stage with a Cleopatra-esque grace, as the musicians beside her began setting up an earthy groove, with such an illuminating presence.

To be honest, I often prefer attending pure instrumental jazz shows over those featuring vocalists because there’s a better chance of the music sounding organic — because more than once I’ve been disappointed when the vocalist (or in some cases, even the bandleader) casts the rest of the band in his shadow to draw more attention to himself. So it was a pleasant surprise to see Wilson back up a few steps when Jonathan Batiste took a wild solo at the piano — however illuminating she was on stage, it still felt like she was an integral part of the musical group rather than solely a featured artist.

I’m going to conclude here with the topic I’ve been struggling to address since I began writing — Wilson’s voice. Exactly how to describe it, I’m not sure — but it possesses that same romantic, whispery tone as Chet Baker in his recording of My Funny Valentine. In fact, many of the pieces she sang that night revolved around the romantic notion of love — Caravan, Lover Come Back to Me, Harvest Moon. Much of the audience, me included, was leaned back, softly sinking into their seats, entranced by that soft, smokey voice of hers.

Here’s one of the first recordings that introduced me to Cassandra Wilson:

Thanks again to Nick Szatmari of Universal Attractions for inviting me to the show.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: T.T.T.T. (Twelve Tone Tune Two)/Bill Evans Trio/Tokyo Concert

One thing’s for sure: New York City is nothing like home. There’s really no way I can describe the huge shift from stepping out of my house to trimmed lawns and white houses to  bustling crowds of people and the incessant honks of car horns.

And there’s absolutely always something to do here. The lights are on in Times Square even in broad daylight where it isn’t necessary, and there always seems to be the echo of someone’s music underground in the subways.

Unfortunately jetlag and fatigue hit me so hard yesterday that I couldn’t do much outside of sleeping and glancing over at the television every now and then (which is strange, because New York is only three hours ahead of Los Angeles) — but today’s day in New York City definitely made up for it:

Columbia University College Tour

This Columbia tour had some strange coincidences. But first off, we — a large mass of students and their ecstatic parents — were taken into a small room in the Visitor Center of the Low Library (the term small here being relative in regards to the size of this campus) for a short informational session: the application, the personal statement, expenses — all the functions of Columbia. It came to the point where we were being divided into three groups, one for each tour guide, and I’d decided to go with the guide with the navy-blue Columbia shirt because he’d mentioned that he was an Economics major with a concentration — not that I have any plans to go into either field, but I just wanted to get a feel for the difference between a double major and a major + concentration education.

Our guide introduced himself to us as Richard Quatrano: Economics/Hispanic Studies student, rising junior, and drummer for the free jazz ensemble. I almost tore a page in my notebook out in excitement. We had much to talk about during our tour today — about Columbia’s jazz program, of course, and perhaps a bit more about jazz itself. He recommended me to talk to Ben Waltzer and Chris Washburne, both instructors at Columbia University. I will, of course, contact them at a more decent hour, but in the meantime, it’s my recommendation now that you listen to them:

Chris Washburne here:

And Ben Walzer’s music page here.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Skipping/Fred Hersch Trio/Whirl

I know it’s somewhat of a huge problem when even my jazz band director asks me why I haven’t been posting lately. You see, there’s this lovely thing that many of us do at the end of the school year: AP (Advanced Placement) Testing, a series of separate four-hour tests that help me earn credits towards college and idealistically helps me gain an understanding of what I’ll be doing in college. While most students limit themselves to one or two, I’m one of the crazy ones that think they can handle taking four and maintain their sanity at the same time.

So, studying? Yes.

Jazz? Not as much as I’d like to at the moment.

Even as I type this, my computer’s sitting on top of an AP US History review book saturated with highlighter and pen ink. The bag next to me has three more review books peeping out: AP Language/Composition, AP Calculus BC, and AP Physics. I’ll let you know if I make it out of this alive.

I’ve been resisting the urge to throw my review books and notes to the side and tell you about my fantastic adventures in Monterey with the jazz band, recording at Cuesta College in a professional recording studio with George Stone, playing as a guest band at the Monterey Next Generation Jazz Festival. Even though it’s been a while since we came back, it’s truly impossible for me not to tell you guys about it. So just for my sanity’s sake, here’s one of my favorite pictures that I took over the trip:

(Billy Harper!)

Also, I mentioned above that the West Ranch HS Jazz Band recorded its debut CD that’s going to be available by June 1st. I’ve got the order forms right next to me, but I’d like to see this CD go to faraway places — let me know if you’d be interested to purchase one (the price is set at $10 + shipping) at rachelc @thejazzpost.com.

See you after AP Exams!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Solar/Bill Evans/Sunday At The Village Vanguard (Bill Evans has kept me awake and alive for the past few weeks at the review books! This album always reminds me of how much I admire Scott LaFaro’s playing. Evans, of course, stole my heart from day one.)

A friend recently gave me Jazz Profiles: The Spirit of the Nineties, a book consisting of interviews with some big names from the nineties — people like Wynton & Bradford Marsalis, Cynthia Blackman, and Joshua Redman. While the book did leave me inspired to check out a few albums (like Oscar and Benny from the Benny Green interview) and left me with a few good tips for young musicians like me, it also left me with a burning question: why did it take me such a long time  to meet jazz?

In the interviews, Nicholas Payton says that he “grew up at [his] father’s rehearsals listening to some of the greatest jazz musicians in New Orleans.” Geri Allen heard the music “as a little kid, as a little toddler, and maybe even pre-birth” since her father was a big fan of jazz. Benny Green recalls hearing his father on the tenor sax and being “exposed to his jazz-record collection.” Craig Handy began the tenor sax at the age of twelve when he heard Dexter Gordon on the radio.

So why is it that these great jazz musicians met jazz so early, but jazz didn’t hit me until high school? It’s not that my interest in music in general was triggered at the same time — I started taking lessons before I even started kindergarten; I played the flute later in elementary school, where it was retired by the end of the sixth grade. Perhaps it was because I enjoyed the solitary nature of the piano more than its actual music at the time — I enjoyed playing it by myself, and only by myself. But that was classical music. In my sixth-grade brain, jazz didn’t exist.

As for concerts, I played in them. Outside of a few orchestral concerts I attended when my sister was playing the violin, I did not get exposed to much live music. I did get a chance to see violinist Midori Goto and pianist Robert McDonald at the Walt Disney Concert Hall when I was twelve, but the only memory I have of that concert is waking up from the comfy seats of the theater to the bright lights and applause at the end of the concert, watching Goto take her final bow. As for live jazz? The closest thing I came to a live jazz performance was a music education performance by the Alley Cats, a doo-wop singing group. I left my fifth-grade class for their hour-long performance in the middle of the day; they were initially a few awkward men in bowling shirts — but the moment they began singing, I was immediately fascinated. And then they disappeared. For the rest of the week I tried finding out what it was that I had heard that day, but I had no luck. I gave up and moved on.

Somehow for almost ten years a jazz tune wasn’t on long enough for me to catch the bug; no one tapped me on the shoulder and said, “hey, you know that song you just skipped over? It was completely improvised.” What I’m trying to say is that I’m frustrated. I get frustrated when I read articles about how young people don’t listen to jazz anymore — as an elementary or junior high school student, how on earth was I supposed to find it on my own?

This realization began gnawing at me the moment I was accepted into the upper jazz band at West Ranch High School — I was playing piano for my junior high culmination ceremony and I got a tap on the shoulder from the junior high band director. I’d never spoken to him before. He only had one question for me: “Where were you?” He’d been managing a jazz band at the junior high, but the first time I’d ever heard about it was on the last day I would ever be attending the school. It was as if that jazz band was some secret that only the select few could know about — it was hidden from everyone but the band kids under the cover of football and spirit days and  honors classes at the junior high. Even later, I discovered that the neighbor that I’d been living next door to for eight years was a jazz fanatic — halfway into my sophomore year of high school.

Jazz isn’t supposed to be a secret. It’s intended to be shared — even my jazz teacher sometimes tells me that improvising is a compilation of everything you’ve ever heard. That’s why I smile when I hear about people like Jason Parker combating the whole “jazz is dead” notion by sharing their music with young people like me who didn’t have immediate access to it. Whether you’re a jazz musician, a jazz instructor, or just someone who’s got a penchant for jazz, please don’t give up on us. Please don’t conclude that we’re uninterested; please don’t assume that we’ll think jazz is boring. Granted, it’s probably a better idea to hand us Kind of Blue before you give us Vijay Iyer (even KKJZ’s Leroy Downs told me with a chuckle that “the world’s not ready for Vijay”). But by handing a kid a jazz record or taking him to a jazz show, you’re giving him a chance to discover something he never knew existed. He might not like it, and he might love it. Believe me, coming from my experience with jazz as that teenager who’s supposedly not listening to it anymore — it’s more than worth a shot.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Ultra Light/Fourplay/Energy