NIGHT ONE:
11:30pm I slinked
into my little black mini and made my way down to the East Village to catch,
what I’m told is John Coltrane incarnate. The late show was KENNY GARRETT.
The NY Times called him "a hero to today’s young, straight ahead jazz
musicians" and they weren’t kidding when they said young. The crowd
at THE KNITTING FACTORY was comprised mostly of wide eyed NYU students
and pasty faced neophyte musicians from Jersey bearing large instrument
cases, in hopes that they might be discovered in the crowd as "the
next musical genius." Unfortunately, all they succeeded in doing was
stepping on my feet and poking me in the ribs with their horns, as they
squeezed closer and closer to the stage like moths to a flame. That’s right,
it was one of those Standing Room Only gigs, not for the feint footed.
I was glad I wore my flats (even if they do look gauche with a mini skirt.
I say, if you’re gonna stand on your feet for two hours, come prepared).
Still, it was worth the schlepp, the bruised ribs, the sore feet and the lack of oxygen. Kenny was one crazy saxophonist -- especially in the first half of the set when he did, indeed, sound like Coltrane. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine being in the middle of a rainstorm, the tunes drenching you in a warm breeze… so good, your hair doesn’t even frizz.
1:30am and
the night was young, so I cabbed it over to my favorite late night Jazz
haunt, SMALLS on West 10th Street, where I knew I could rest my aching
tootsies on some of the most comfortable couches of any club in the village.
SMALLS is just the sort of place Jazz was made for. A dark, smoky basement,
open till 8 am and costing a mere 10 bucks to get in. There’s always a
friendly, eclectic crowd of local jazz enthusiasts and tourists. This time,
I sat next to a young couple from France who didn’t know to bring their
own booze (SMALLS has no liquor license but offers free ice tea and cranberry
juice) and spent much of their time trying to convince others to sell them
their beer; and a dude to my left I thought was handsome, until he took
the comfort thing a bit far and started snoring in the middle of the set.
The band was comprised of a talented young guy on the bass who looked more like the editor of a college newspaper than a jazzman, but turned out to do a real killer pluck and bow act; a drummer who looked like he’d been doing this for 50 years and probably has; a kick-ass ivory tickler who smoked those long thin cigarettes I always see Jazz musicians puffin’ and Chris Buyers on the saxophone (a cute sax player is always a requisite in a good jazz band.)
All in all, this first night was a nice intro to the Jazz fest, low key and clubby, preparing me for the big nights out to follow.
NIGHT TWO – Praise the Lord, I finally got to see ARETHA!
That’s right,
ARETHA FRANKLIN’S GOSPEL CRUSADE FOR AIDS was at Avery Fisher Hall in LINCOLN
CENTER and Bluesy wouldn’t have missed it for all the cheesecake in China.
It’s always been a dream of mine to see the undisputed Queen of Soul and let me tell you, the lady did NOT let me down. That woman sang gospel without a quiver in her voice or in her convictions. It was such a spiritual set, if I wasn’t so fond of pastrami on rye, I would’ve converted.
There was a lot of hub-bub in the papers about Aretha not singing enough the first night of this show (I caught the second performance on Sunday) amidst a flurry of preachers and camera mugging by Jesse Jackson. This wasn’t my experience at all. The Diva sang for an hour straight, one great inspiring number after another. She even danced about, lifting her short skirt to show us she indeed has some fine gams for a gal of any age and she looked so happy, I just wanted to hug her (and give her a glass of water – how DOES she continue to have that great barreling voice without nary a sip of anything or a lozenge? Amazing!).
She also looked GOOD… really good. She was wearing a very tasteful white suit jacket over that short skirt and a big white hat with a huge diamond pin on it. When she tossed that hat in the air with glee at the end of her set, I was nervous someone might snag it. But this was a church going experience and thankfully, the hat came back, diamond intact.
I also thought the preaching by Reverend Donald Parsons and the Reverend Jasper Williams, from Atlanta (as he was billed, as opposed to the Reverend Jasper Williams from Detroit or Skanectagee) were intelligent and inspirational. They spoke of the church’s past hypocrisy in dealing with AIDS victims and brought up some very important notions about how we should all practice what we preach to reach out to do whatever we can to fight AIDS and not act like paranoid jerks who are afraid of catching it by shaking hands. It was a good cause, a good message, a good crowd and a helluva lot of great music. AND I finally got to see Aretha!
10:30 Feeling
inspired, I headed across the street to THE IRIDIUM ROOM, a funky upscale
jazz club with a bit of a Dr. Seuss mentality when it comes to their furniture.
I wasn’t sorry, because despite the pricey but powerful martini’s, I got
a chance to see ABBEY LINCOLN, another jazz diva in a top hat and spangled
tails, who put on a class act show with some nicely performed standards.
I was especially amused to find myself sitting next to THE PRIME MINISTER OF DENMARK, who looked nothing like Hamlet and a bit like a huskier Michael York. The waitstaff wanted to boot me out of my seat (security reasons, they said), but the PM didn’t seem to think Bluesy posed a significant threat to his nation’s safety and let me stay; although his bodyguards did eye me suspiciously through the night, as did the PM’s wife. I could’ve told her she had nothing to worry about… I prefer dark haired men and besides which, I’m not into long distance relationships.
Abbey seemed to find it amusing that the PM (and the Ambassador of Denmark, along with their whole blond entourage) was there to hear her sing. I especially liked how she didn’t let them off the hook when they got up and left in the middle of her set. Like everything else about her act, it was done with a charming "Don’t fuck with me" attitude. I hadn’t owned anything by Abbey before, but now I think I’ll pick up some of her cds. Abbey was cool.
NIGHT THREE – Break out black evening gown and the pumps, I’m celebrating with LENA!
That’s right,
Bluesy was at Lincoln Center for LENA HORNE’S 80TH BIRTHDAY GALA. Along
with a zillion celebs and Mathew Modine. -- the hunk was a mere 10 seats
away, sporting some amazing Elvis-like sideburns that would’ve looked scary
on anyone else… but this was Mathew. Mathew would look cute in a hair net.
He was so close, I could’ve spat on him if I wanted, but of course, I would
never do such a thing . Okay, so I did try to send lustwaves in his direction
and form some sort of a mind meld, but he seemed too busy air-kissing Cyd
Charisse and back patting Dennis Christopher (who looked pretty cute himself).
It was a good looking crowd indeed. Considering Rosemary Clooney was there,
I was surprised George wasn’t there to see his aunt belt out a fine version
of "Sophisticated Lady," but I suppose he was still busy trying
to get out of that damned Batsuit.
Anyway, the important thing was I got to see Lena; who, after accepting the well deserved ELLA award (obviously named after Ella Fitzgerald) started to sing "Come Rain or Come Shine," then pulled a trick The Kinks always do when it comes to "Lola," stopped and switched to a REALLY great version of "As Long as I Live." Aside from having beauty, really good posture and class, the lady’s obviously got a sense of humor too.
The show itself given by "The Society of Singers" was a lot of fun -- a bit Vegasy, especially the number by Ashford (who seemed to be playing "The Cowardly Lion" from The Wiz with that hair of his -- I’m not even gonna get into the gold lame suit) and Simpson, who seemed to be doing her best Tina Turner interpretation. Liza Minnelli gave a really nice speech about idolizing Lena when they were kids, since she appeared in her father’s movie "Cabin in the Sky" (Liza sang "Happiness is Just a Thing Called Joe" from the flick, a really nice number that she performed with much grace and style).
Liza’s outfit joined the parade of spangles with an attractive black glittery pantsuit. I’ve never seen so many beautiful Bob Mackie dresses in one place. Glad to see everyone got to use their Grammy gowns more than once.
Other highlights that knocked my socks off included Bobby Short singing "Lush Life" in that trademark voice of his that made you feel like you were in the middle of a Noel Coward play. Leslie Uggam’s looked and sounded like a knockout with "I Got it Bad and That Ain’t Good." Chita Rivera was another benefactor of that age stopping potion, or else she has a picture hidden in an attic somewhere because she looks pretty much the same as she did 20 years ago and did a number from CHICAGO with a load of hunky male dancers called "My Babies and Me." Alan King, who used to open for Lena many years ago, did a very funny bit about getting old that came across like a good natured birthday card passed around the room to receptive jitters and hoots.
Best of all was the array of the original Cotton Club dancers they arranged to hoof it up with the cast of "Play On." These ladies were still going strong in their 80’s and even managed to do some nifty chorus line kicks.
All in all, I
felt very privileged to be in the crowd with these people who showed class
and talent are, indeed ageless. The only thing better would’ve been if
Mathew joined me afterwards at the CAFÉ DES ARTISTES for some chocolate
death cake, but at least I got to hear Lena sing.
