There’s this important piece of advice that I received from someone when I first began developing an interest in jazz piano during my freshman year of high school — pick a jazz pianist whose sound you’re the most attracted to and study his/her music over the course of their recorded career. In that instance several years ago, I found that I was the most attracted to the sound of Bill Evans in the Miles Davis Kind of Blue album — an interest that eventually broadened out to what you’re reading now.

This piece of advice came to mind again when I started teaching my first jazz student several weeks ago, so I’ve decided to burn him a CD of ten classic and diverse group of jazz pianists hailing from all different aspects of the genre. In order to give him a grasp of all the different styles of jazz piano, it’s a necessity for this CD to embody this diversity. It’s actually quite exciting passing on something I love to someone who’s still trying it out — it’s a bit reflective on the post I wrote several months back on my frustrations with meeting jazz much later than I’d like to have, especially since I’m going to be entering my last year of high school this fall.

I’ve also been privileged to be part of a thriving online jazz community via Twitter (more information about the Twitter Jazz Network can be found here), so I thought I’d reach out to them for this one. Here are the suggestions I received:

@thejazzpost: making up a CD of 10 jazz piano greats for one of my students. Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Red Garland, Chick Corea…any suggestions?

–

@mikelorenzmusic: keith jarrett, art tatum, bud powell, mccoy tyner, herbie hancock…first that came to mind…brad mehldau?…earl hines, james p. johnson

@R0j1b1anc0: Duke Ellington?…thelonious monk…ellis marsalis

@vijayiyer: thelonious monk, duke ellington, art tatum, bud powell, cecil taylor, mary lou williams, jamal, tyner, alice coltrane, hancock…Andrew Hill, Sun Ra, Elmo Hope, Bertha Hope, GERI ALLEN

@kingdahl: probably should add some Keith Jarrett, McCoy Tyner, and if it were me, I’d add Cecil Taylor. :) & Vijay!

@BigSwingTheory: How about Keith Jarrett?

@Attiaflautist: how about Thelonious Monk, Art Tatum, McCoy Tyner, or Duke Ellington! There’s so many to choose from! I love Chick Corea!

@atane: The hardbop guys! Sonny Clark, Bobby Timmons, Kenny Drew, Freddie Redd, Horace Silver, Horace Parlan, Duke Pearson…I’m sure you’ve heard the work of guys like Bobby Timmons & Sonny Clark, you just don’t know it. Never too late anyway. :)…Bobby Timmons on piano – http://youtu.be/VKXsnDvILmI & Sonny Clark – http://youtu.be/-j0k8EnNcT8 http://youtu.be/AyvA2UmzQ8A

@ElementsOfJazz: Marcus Roberts, Arturo O’Farrill , Antonio Jobim, Hank Jones, Gerri Allen, Jason Moran, Mulgrew Miller, Michel Petrucciani…

@uglyrug: Elmo Hope, Hampton Hawes, Kirk Lightsey, Herbie Nichols, Don Pullen, James P. Johnson, Charles Mingus (he played piano too)…

@paulhorton_: I know I’m late to this and practically everyone I love has been mentioned. What about willie the lion smith,Michel petrucciani

@fullyaltered: Wynton Kelly…Errol Garner, Art Tatum…Bud Powell

–

And here are the ten artists that are going to be included on the CD:

1. Bill Evans: Alice in Wonderland (Take 2)/Sunday at the Village Vanguard

2. Thelonious Monk: Evidence/Monk’s Dream

3. Art Tatum: Limehouse Blues/The Art Tatum Legacy

4. Red Garland: If I Were a Bell/Red Garland’s Piano

5. Oscar Peterson: Love For Sale/Oscar Peterson Plays the Cole Porter Song Book

6. Sonny Clark: Cool Struttin’/Cool Struttin’

7. Ahmad Jamal: They Can’t Take That Away From Me/The Legendary Okeh & Epic Recordings

8. Herbie Hancock: Maiden Voyage/Maiden Voyage

9. Brad Mehldau: Paranoid Android/Largo

10. Vijay Iyer: Big Brother/Historicity

Of course, these aren’t the only pianists that he’s going to be exposed to — but it’s a great starter list for now.

Thanks to everyone who contributed; I’ll let you know what he decides!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: You’re My Everything/Fred Hersch Trio/Whirl

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

Vijay Iyer had a distinctly different demeanor from many musicians that I’ve met in the past. It wasn’t that difficult to spot him from my table when I arrived at the Birdland Jazz Club — he looked exactly the way I’d seen him in pictures: sharp, clean-cut, emanating professionalism. In fact, his image was so overwhelming that my father had to pull me out of my seat to go introduce myself to him. (Thanks, Dad.)

I can best compare Iyer’s music to that of Stravinsky’s. By the end of each piece, it’s challenging to come away from it with the melody ringing in your head; rather, it’s an array of innovative chords, unique motifs that you wish you could write down on paper to use later, and a strange image of visually disconnected yet completely intertwined group of musicians that’s stuck in your head when you leave the set. Initially I felt like I was watching three different performances from three different musicians at the same time — but as the tunes progressed, and as I grasped a better understanding of each musician, I also slowly could see a connection between the three. It seems like listening to Iyer’s music is somewhat of an intellectual pursuit.

Throughout my studies in jazz as a high school student, I’ve been told many different opinions about instruments and their respective roles in jazz — specifically, in a combo setting, I’ve been repeatedly told that it’s my job as the pianist to lay down the chords; the drummer’s job to maintain the beat; the bass’s job to set the groove; the horns’ jobs to establish the melody. These concepts have consistently held true through my high school combo and the jazz group at CalArts, but it’s as if all these rules were broken that night at Birdland. Justin Brown (drums) was often more colorful than beat-oriented; Iyer even held the bass line at some moments; Stephan Crump (bass) seemed to even have more of a melodic element than a groove at times. I believe what struck me the most was the fact that this all wasn’t confusing — in fact, everything that Iyer, Brown, and Crump played made complete sense, despite the fact that they were going against every rule I’d ever learned about playing in small jazz ensembles.

Perhaps the Vijay Iyer trio was a reminder to me that if jazz does have rules, they’re completely arbitrary.

I’ve been giving a set list for each performance I’ve attended this past week, but unfortunately the only tune Iyer mentioned was an adaption of Michael Jackson’s Human Nature, where he added: “I just met someone who was born in 1993, so I was afraid she wouldn’t know that one…I graduated in 1992, so…”

(That person, by the way, is yours truly.)

He also played some pieces from his recent album, Historicity.

I was also able to talk to Iyer afterwards:

On the same note as all the college tours I had that week, Iyer and I talked about attending a liberal arts college versus a music conservatory — as you might have seen in one of my previous posts, one of the highlights of my college tours was my trip to Columbia University, where I got a better look at opportunities in both the fields of jazz and journalism. Iyer received his B. S. in Math and Science from Yale College and a Masters in Physics and an interdisciplinary Ph.D. in Technology and the Arts from UC Berkeley along with his studies in jazz at both schools, so I got to get his perspective on the issue of higher jazz education. He expressed that liberal arts schools give musicians an opportunity to experience a breadth of topics along with jazz, preparing the musician for interaction with the outside world.

If you’re in the Los Angeles area, come check out Vijay Iyer at the Levitt Pavilion in Pasadena on the 15th of August — I might see you there!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: The “Pretty” Road/Maria Schneider Orchestra/Sky Blue

Tonight was definitely a contrast to the Fred Hersch show I went to yesterday night — I was at the Blue Note to hear the Dizzy Gillespie Big Band. I learned several things at the Village Vanguard show, one of which being the necessity of showing up early. I forgot to mention (embarrassingly enough) that I arrived at the venue less than ten minutes before the start of the show and wound up with a booth seat in the back of the room. It made for great acoustics, but not so much for actually seeing the performers.

This time I arrived with my father about forty-five minutes before the show and I scored a seat facing the bell of NEA Jazz Master Jimmy Heath’s tenor saxophone. This was the view from my seat:

And the view from my father’s seat:

Here’s their set list, accompanied by some notes I took during the show:

1. Hot House

2. I’m Beboppin’ Too

3. Emanon (which is “No Name” backwards. began with a killer piano solo by Monty Alexander, who was playing piano for the band that evening)

4. Without You, No Me (Jimmy Heath says that he was commissioned to write this piece by Dizzy Gillespie — “Do you know what a commission is?” he joked, “it was a commission impossible, because he didn’t pay me!”)

5. I Mean You

6. Una Mas (with a flute duet from the two altos)

7. Happy Birthday (where vocalist Roberta Gambarini was introduced)

8. ‘Round Midnight

9. Lover Come Back To Me (with a madly fantastic scat solo from Gambarini, especially when she began trading solos with the band members)

10. I Remember Clifford (with Hargrove on flugelhorn)

11. Things to Come (particularly featured the trumpet section

I’m now comparing my notes from the Hersch show and the Dizzy Gillespie Big Band show and it appears that the notes for the latter are much more sparse than the first. I’m thinking that it’s the case because this big band was generally more rambunctious and exciting, especially with such a responsive audience. Also, nothing beats the feeling of locking eyes with a band member in the agreement of something radical just played — and I had several of these instances tonight. Overall, this band was just so alive and wild compared to the sensitivity of the Hersch show. (The Hersch show, on the other hand, had me bent over and closing my eyes in thought the majority of the time — which is quite the meditating experience, a rewarding experience; but still, the complete opposite of the Dizzy Gillespie Big Band vibe.)

Though Roy Hargrove directed the band the majority of the time, there were several occasions where Heath did — like in the case of his piece Without You, No Me — and it gave me that same strangely nostalgic feeling that hit me when I saw Sonny Rollins at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. I’m more than likely going to be driven to exploring that feeling in a future post. I did get to chat with him a bit afterwards:

Tomorrow I’ll be attending the Vijay Iyer Trio show at the Birdland — I’ll keep you updated!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Looking Back/Kneebody/Low Electrical Worker

The Village Vanguard immediately fulfilled some of my expectations the moment I went through that red door. It was crowded with people — a few college students, but mostly those beyond twice my age — nearly all the way to the back of the room by the time I arrived. It was frozen in time, the exact image I’d remembered from the pictures I’d seen of it from ages before now, except for a few new coats of paint and a shiny new Steinway — exactly the way I’d imagined it.

There was one thing, however, that was distinctly different from my romantic image of the Village Vanguard. As I may have mentioned before, one of my favorite albums was recorded here (Sunday at the Village Vanguard/Bill Evans Trio) back in 1961 — and one of my favorite aspects of this albums is its vivacity. Vivacity, not only in regards to the musical interaction between Evans, LaFaro, and Motian, but also in the subtle sounds of clinking glasses and chatter and laughter from that audience, undisturbed by editing, is what gives that album a genuinely raw feeling to me. It’s as if tonight those hints of conversation and laughter were replaced by complete silence, only broken by the occasional rumbling from the nearby subway and perhaps the scribbling of my pen against my notebook.

My question is, what is it that changed here? Is it the audience that’s reluctant to make any audible signals of appreciation? It’s absolutely not in the lack of appreciation, I’m sure. Are there new policies at the Village Vanguard? Is the recording equipment too sensitive for any extraneous noise? What do you think?

But without further ado, on to the set list, as well as some notes I took during the show:

Fred Hersch (p), John Hébert (b), Billy Hart (d)

1. From This Moment On

2. Still Here (a dedication to Wayne Shorter, whom Hersch declared his “hero and huge influence”)

3. Skipping (I’m still frustrated that I can’t figure out the shifting time signatures of this tune — anyone know? Otherwise, it sounded very Brubeck to me)

4. Whirl (inspired by a ballerina; a circular, spinning tune with minor sixths layered over triplets in the initial melody; reminds me of that Chopin tune that I desperately need to practice)

5. The Wind (Russ Freeman)/Moon and Sand (Alec Wilder) Medley

6. Played Twice (because Hersch declares that it’s a tradition to play a Monk tune at every set in the Village Vanguard; It was pretty interesting hearing this bebop tune played in a floaty Hersch style.)

7. I’ll Be Seeing You (I loved hearing John Hebert on arco; the way the piece was played reminded me of the recording of Granados on the Bill Evans Compact Jazz album)

8. Change Partners (Hersch started out with random-sounding single pitches that reminded me of a coding exercise I did in a surprisingly challenging CalArts computer music class, later contrasted by some lovely block chords. This piece was my favorite of the night — mostly because of the striking contrasts that Hersch set forward: random chaos/structure, dissonance/comfortable harmonies, random notes/repetition, block chords/melodic lines. A great end to a diverse and thought-provoking set. Not to mention that I was bouncing in my seat the entire show.)

(top: Fred Hersch; bottom: Billy Hart)

The moment Hersch began playing his first tune, I thought back to one of my old piano lessons at the Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts with John Adams when I was about fourteen years old. I remember we were working on an extremely sensitive part of a Edward MacDowell piece — Mr. Adams and I had gotten to the point where we were both frustrated that I couldn’t soften my touch a slight bit more. “Play it soft,” he kept repeating, “like a memory.”

And that’s exactly how Hersch played — like a memory. Even with his consistently active left hand and his tiny upper-register melodies, Hersch’s playing always sounded like some nostalgic echo of something already once played.

That night I sat there in the Village Vanguard in a room filled with memories from a time ages ago — and even though in reality I didn’t exist then, I think I felt a bit of that nostalgia as well.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Still Here/Fred Hersch Trio/Whirl

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

The title of this post says it all: I’m off to New York City. Tomorrow morning I’m leaving at about 4:30 AM to catch a morning flight on Virgin Airlines with my family to New York City with two main goals in mind: (a) tour colleges and (b) check out the NYC jazz scene. But perhaps what I’m looking the most forward to is wandering aimlessly along its busy sidewalks, mesmerized by the bright lights and the masses of diverse people — I have a certain fondness for big cities. I love how quickly anyone can switch from being an integral part of the city — like a jazz musician, for instance — to being an individual in complete solitude — another face drifting in an ever-moving sea of people.

Nevertheless, it is still my first time ever visiting NYC. As many of you know, I’m starting my senior year of high school this fall — which means that the next step for me is college. I’ll be touring several universities this week, including Columbia, NYU, and Juilliard — I’ll keep you updated on my college tours via this blog and thejazzpost’s Twitter feed.

I’ll also be attending (at the least) two jazz shows: the Fred Hersch trio (with John Hebert and Billy Hart) at the Village Vanguard and the Dizzy Gillespie All-Stars at the Blue Note. The Village Vanguard was the first place I expressed extreme interest in visiting upon the first notions of this family trip to NYC in its early stages — after all, it’s the venue where my favorite Bill Evans album was recorded. Frankly, I probably wouldn’t have minded much taking a cheesy tourist-y photo outside its old doors — so I’m absolutely ecstatic about this Hersch show. And I definitely can’t miss out on the opportunity to see a Blue Note show — especially a Dizzy Gillespie All-Stars show.

I’m trying my hardest to refrain from using the words “sick,” “awesome,”  “amazing,”  “fantastic,” and “excited” in these short paragraphs, and I’ve got to tell you — it’s extremely difficult. Just thinking about where I’m headed tomorrow is making me squirm with excitement. So since I don’t want to miss my flight, I’m going to end this post here for now — but trust me: it’s going to be an exciting week for me and TheJazzPost starting tomorrow.

Here’s a lovely good night with a lovely Sunday At the Village Vanguard track:

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Dr. Beauchef, Penguin Dentist/Kneebody/Low Electrical Worker

PHOTO CREDIT (top): Josh Liba @ Flickr

Last night I had the privilege of meeting bass player Kaveh Rastegar and drummer Jaydon Bean (as well as my teacher, Mark Nilan Jr.) at the Watermark on Main in Ventura. Let me tell you, it was quite the experience just watching the three musicians set up in such a tiny venue — a small space surrounded by already-inhabited tables — yet somehow it worked. I also believe that my heart did skip a beat when Nilan pulled out that lipstick-red keyboard — and the same goes for when he told me that Rastegar was the bass player for the jazz fusion band, Kneebody. It’s not usual for me to be that excited before the show starts — but in this case, I genuinely was.

But it was watching the three of them create this intense musical sphere right there in that busy restaurant — uninterrupted by bustling waiters and rowdy customers — that was probably the most mesmerizing part of the show. And it was even more astonishing to know that this crazy musical bond was created by three musicians that had not once played with one another — in fact, they’d just met only minutes before the gig.

I can’t describe their performance that night as anything else but organic. Organic in the sense that they rapidly caught each others’ idiosyncrasies as the pieces progressed — even the slightest bit of a catchy phrase was repeated and answered and echoed and turned through each player, as if their music was some living, growing, breathing being. I especially enjoyed this nonverbal exchange of ideas and the way Bean’s face lit up every single time something interesting was played (or perhaps he was smiling at the fact that I reveled in this so much).

Their set included Green Dolphin Street, the Beatles’ Blackbird, Someday My Prince Will Come, and my all-time favorite, Alice in Wonderland.

(left to right: Jaydon Bean, Kaveh Rastegar, me, Mark Nilan Jr.)

I also got a chance to talk a bit with Rastegar during their breaks and gained some pretty insightful advice on being a young and ambitious jazz musician. Probably the most valuable piece of advice he gave me was on working with other musicians — recognizing your place and position as a part of the group you are playing with is one of the most important parts of being a successful player. Also, like I’ve read and heard from many musicians, he noted that the most important part of being a musician in any situation is developing yourself into the best musician you can be. It sounds like a given here, but I’m beginning to notice that it’s very easy to get caught up in petty concerns — age, race, gender, equipment, length of study, money, personality issues, even placement or chair seating in a band — which hold the potential to lead you astray from this fundamental goal.

After talking to Rastegar, I now have an appointment at the CalArts library to go on a music-hunting spree, as well as a transcription bucket list nailed to my wall. Not to mention that I’m even more intent on continuing my Joseph Campbell-esque hero’s journey out on the East coast. As you read this I’m most likely staring dreamily into the pages of a college application in some deserted library as I begin the last summer before my senior year.

I’ll conclude this post with the video that introduced me to Kneebody:

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Brother Mister/Christian McBride and Inside Straight/Kind of Brown

I was at a neighbor’s house Sunday night for a light get-together and a hearty barbecue — the same neighbor, Richard, who was the first to toss some jazz classics in my direction. Throughout the night, several names were thrown about and excitedly discussed — Toots Thielemans, George Benson, and Rod Piazza, to name a few. But for some strange reason, every jazz-related discussion that Richard and I have always finds its way back to Bill Evans.

That night, Richard posed a simple but deep question: why do I like Bill Evans?

Although I’d like to say that I had some heavy monologue about my love for Evans ready on the spot, I’m going to admit that this question definitely took me by surprise. I’m pretty sure I babbled some unintelligible nonsense about the softness and vulnerability of his playing, about how anyone could connect his sensitive playing to his struggle of a life. It probably didn’t make much sense.

Richard probably doesn’t know this, but that question has been on my mind ever since I went to sleep that night. And finally, close to midnight, I’ve come to a conclusion:

Bill Evans and his playing represent one of my most treasured values: to be taken seriously. Evans’s playing is sensitive, subtle, beautiful, unique — but there’s one thing that it’s not: cute. However raw and personal Evans playing can get, it always invokes the same overwhelming feeling of respect from me (and other listeners, I’m sure) — it demands to be taken seriously. Despite the stories that I’ve read about Evans, and despite the fact that some of them are immensely tragic, one listen to Alice in Wonderland makes me forget it all. The fact that his playing allows me only to think of his playing — not his long, bony fingers or his solemn face or his grey life– is the reason why I enjoy listening to Bill Evans.

There’s only one other thing that’s on my mind while I listen to this: I want to get to the point where my playing — and every other aspect of my life — can be taken just as seriously as this.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Milestones/Bill Evans/Waltz for Debby

After a grueling two weeks with four AP tests, I can finally open my computer for reasons other than the College Board. But still, these past two weeks were also a collection of some valuable experiences in jazz. (Not to mention that the last few months of life in front of AP review books and coffee has strengthened my gratefulness for it.)

Last week I decided to take advantage of my high school’s required job shadowing activity by using it as an opportunity to go hear some live jazz — so I shot an email to my former CalArts CAP teacher Tina Raymond about it. It turned out that Tina’s currently the drummer of the all-female jazz band Maiden Voyage that’s going to be playing at the Mary Lou Williams Jazz Festival at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. this week; although I knew that yes, female jazz players do exist, I’d never heard of anything like Maiden Voyage.

Tina invited me to go attend a Maiden Voyage rehearsal at the Musician’s Union (thanks again, Tina!) where I was able to meet Ann Patterson, accomplished female sax player and band leader:

Of course, it’s nothing new to see a talented female jazz musician. There’s Mary Lou Williams, Ella Fitzgerald, and Toshiko Akiyoshi from back in the day, and Hiromi Uehara, Esperanza Spalding, Dee Dee Bridgewater performing right now. But I didn’t expect it to be that big of a shock for me to see so many talented female musicians playing together. I suppose it’s the fact that whenever I do see female jazz musicians, they’re either playing alone or they’re being featured as part of an otherwise all-male group. And even though I initially approached the Maiden Voyage rehearsal with questions revolved around the experiences of being a female in the jazz world, it suddenly felt strange to even ask those questions — the fact that being a female player in the jazz world was even significant suddenly seemed disappointing.

It was later that week that this disappointment settled in even further. As I sat on my piano bench at my school district’s honor jazz band first rehearsal and watched each musician walk in, it began to dawn on me that I would be the only female playing in the band.

Yes, jazz is a genre that succeeds most of the time at embracing differences and highlighting individuality, and being the one female in this jazz band is only one more difference that I have in relation to everyone else. But after watching the lead trumpet player of Maiden Voyage hit all those screaming high notes, I begin to wonder where her younger counterpart is in my younger jazz sphere. It’s not as if females have less accessibility than their male friends to jazz bands at my age, so where are they?

It did give me hope, however,  to see several talented female jazz players in the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts’ jazz band this weekend at the Workman High School jazz festival. There’s also reassurance in an article I read in the March 2010 Downbeat — Marian McPartland’s Gender Barriers? Observations of a Working Pianist and Bandleader, in which she asserts that “if women seem to be in the minority in any field,” her advice is still the same: “you have to have talent and motivation, be dogged and persistent, believe in yourself, and not be deterred by anything or anyone.” Also, she notes that she believes “people with determination and a desire to succeed” move ahead, “ignoring all barriers,” despite the stories she initially heard from other female musicians about the difficulty of beginning a career in music. And considering the fact that Marian McPartland is an influential figure in both jazz and in journalism (if you haven’t checked out Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz of NPR, do so now), that’s some powerful advice.

But in the meantime,  events like the Mary Lou Williams Jazz Festival that highlight the talented jazz women of today are also accompanied by a certain degree of pride from both those jazz musicians and aspiring female jazz musicians like me — and that’s some pretty indispensable and irreplaceable passion in the growing jazz sphere.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Van Gogh/Jazz At Lincoln Center Orchestra/Portrait in Seven Shades

Listening to this album reminds me that I’ve forgotten to mention my essay that’s published on the Jazz At Lincoln Center’s website as part of this year’s Essentially Ellington essay contest, check it out here! (I received this autographed album as part of the prize package.)

Also, here’s Jeff Jarvis of California State University, Long Beach (left) and  Chris Stevens of Long Beach Polytechnic High School (right); I met them both this past weekend at the Workman High School jazz festival, and they’re both very inspirational band directors with fantastic bands. (Check out this post for a bit about the CSULB band at Newbury Park High School.) Thanks for saying hello!