If the poetry that is May in Richmond can be conveyed in one breath, it's the headiness of honeysuckle.
Separating the manicured grounds of Ethyl Corp. from the historic sprawl of Tredegar Iron Works or weaving a dense hedge with brambly pink-flowered blackberries along the Manchester canal, the head-filling aroma provides an olfactory soundtrack to a walkabout.
It's on a May day like this one that Mac and I will see at least a dozen great blue herons who've set up sentinel posts along both sides of the river. Those standing on the north side are tucked into shady nooks near the pipeline, while those roosting on the southern shores seem content to perch on rocks and observe nearby fishermen.
Or...? If you were to ask me, I'd guess that they're all on the prowl for mates. It's the lusty month of May, after all.
Even the crabbiest weather wimps are going on record as being enamored of this particular May weather paradigm - sunny, '70s, cooler nights, low humidity - but, truth be told, I'd like a bit more humidity in the air. The air is softer with extra moisture caught up in it and May cries out for softer days and nights before the serious biz of Summer arrives.
May means that outdoor music is ramping up in earnest and a chance subterranean encounter last evening reminded me that there are times when I would want to make my way to a park at sunset.
The enveloping pleasures of listening to the Marcus Tenney Trio - complete with drum kit (!!), trumpet and upright bass - in a tiny park, under slowly deepening skies that draw out blinking fireflies is a well-composed example of what lies just barely beneath the surface of this offbeat charmer of a town I call home.
It's like that time I went to the Byrd Theater because I needed to laugh, only to well up instead when Bob Gulledge began playing "What a Wonderful World" on the mighty Wurlitzer before the movie.
Richmond, you may not be subtle but you're nothing if not relentless.
After my review of a Richmond institution hits the stands today, I heard from a friend and food writer, who opines, "Hi, I loved your Sally Bell's review today. You nailed it - vibe, food, history. Thank you."
I'm not entirely certain what the appreciation being proffered is about, but I have a guess.
A food establishment that's been around for 91 years deserves a little respect, not to mention context. My review had looked at the restaurant's cult of personality and explained it to those unfamiliar with it in a manner that could only have been done by someone who'd been in Richmond for at least 1/3 of the restaurant's life.
Someone newer to Richmond or even just less familiar with mid-Atlantic culinary cultural history, might have tried to compare it to or look for its place among the artisan and quirky food businesses that have sprouted like fungi after a rainy spell in trendy and trending neighborhoods.
Not this long-timer.
I took it back to my own prehistoric memories and a time of gentler social mores. While not exactly standing on the lawn and shaking my fist, my words were a reminder to more recent come-heres of a world where white cardboard boxed lunches were tied with string and included something as civilized as a cheese wafer.
It's living in a town where someone reads your words and bothers to extend appreciation. It's being able to walk for miles over or alongside the water before rejoining the urban world. It's music in a park in the approaching dark. It's tangles of overgrown honeysuckle that smell like what youthful me thought summer romance should.
It's living in Richmond. It's May, the month of "yes, you may."
Best I get on with it, everyone hints and hopes. Doing my best.
Showing posts with label marcus tenney trio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marcus tenney trio. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Playing with Jazz
"We'll be bringing the heavy."
What that meant was that Glows in the Dark was going to be playing in front of a projection of Ingmar Bergman's favorite of his films, 1962's "Winterlight."
What better place than Balliceaux to see my first Bergman film and with stellar musical accompaniment?
And who better to provide that score than the most cinematic jazz outfit in town?
They started strong with "Gary Glitter" as scenes of the Swedish countryside unfolded behind them.
Sometimes I could read the subtitles, mainly when saxophonist John Lilly had no part and moved over by the door, and the rest of the time I watched somber black and white figures and tried to feel their pain.
"Manhunt" took us even further into the claustrophobic story of a very unhappy looking man and then it was back to business with the epic "Beach of the War Gods."
"The next set of songs are all based on Ingmar Bergman movies," bandleader and guitarist Scott Burton announced.
Now we were getting somewhere.
I was stoked to hear "Through a Glass Darkly" because it was the first song I ever saw them do live years ago and they band's only gotten tighter since.
He introduced the next song as, "Winter Light," and appropriately, it was during that song that we saw the noted 6-minute take of a woman reading a letter that the film is known for.
But it's Bergman, so besides epic takes, there was also existentialism and crises of Christianity.
Same old same old in Sweden, it seems.
And you know when you see a line about, "Your peculiar indifference to Jesus Christ," you are definitely in a Bergman movie.
Ditto for this exchange:
Have you considered taking your own life?
I'm not sure.
Who answers that question that way? I'm not sure?
"Silence" was anything but and was followed by "Ex-Musicians," a song that found the musicians sounding like they were running out of steam toward the end, a brilliant but deliberate way to finish out the piece.
Ex-musicians, indeed.
No question, part of the entertainment was watching trombonist Bryan Hooten who was sitting in front of me, get caught up in Glows' music, too, sometimes raising his hand as if to conduct a note higher and sometimes just keeping time madly in his lap.
They finished with "Up and Down," and everyone in the audience leaned in hard, knowing that they and Bergman were racing for the finish.
And just for the record, things didn't end especially well for the Swedes.
The Marcus Tenney Trio came next playing songs from their upcoming album, which Marcus qualified by saying, "It's gonna come out soon. We just don't know when."
You see, you have to stay loose in jazz.
This set's entertainer was Reggie Pace from Glows, who was bobbing his head and grooving hard throughout the trio's set.
When I went to leave, Reggie said hi, asking me if I'd seen the Bergman movie before.
Alas, I had to admit that I hadn't, although now my interest is piqued.
But who else besides Glows in the Dark is going to show that movie for me to see?
And if they show it, they will play music and, once again, I will get too wrapped up in watching Cameron tear up his bass.
Or Scott make his guitar sound almost like a piano.
Or Reggie bend notes on his trombone.
Or John sputter and wail on his sax.
Or Scott look like a blur as his hands move so fast on the drums I can't keep up.
Yep, I've got no chance of ever fully paying attention to the interesting films Glows in the Dark shows behind their killer soundscapes.
When they bring the heavy, I like to hang on for every note.
That I'm sure of.
What that meant was that Glows in the Dark was going to be playing in front of a projection of Ingmar Bergman's favorite of his films, 1962's "Winterlight."
What better place than Balliceaux to see my first Bergman film and with stellar musical accompaniment?
And who better to provide that score than the most cinematic jazz outfit in town?
They started strong with "Gary Glitter" as scenes of the Swedish countryside unfolded behind them.
Sometimes I could read the subtitles, mainly when saxophonist John Lilly had no part and moved over by the door, and the rest of the time I watched somber black and white figures and tried to feel their pain.
"Manhunt" took us even further into the claustrophobic story of a very unhappy looking man and then it was back to business with the epic "Beach of the War Gods."
"The next set of songs are all based on Ingmar Bergman movies," bandleader and guitarist Scott Burton announced.
Now we were getting somewhere.
I was stoked to hear "Through a Glass Darkly" because it was the first song I ever saw them do live years ago and they band's only gotten tighter since.
He introduced the next song as, "Winter Light," and appropriately, it was during that song that we saw the noted 6-minute take of a woman reading a letter that the film is known for.
But it's Bergman, so besides epic takes, there was also existentialism and crises of Christianity.
Same old same old in Sweden, it seems.
And you know when you see a line about, "Your peculiar indifference to Jesus Christ," you are definitely in a Bergman movie.
Ditto for this exchange:
Have you considered taking your own life?
I'm not sure.
Who answers that question that way? I'm not sure?
"Silence" was anything but and was followed by "Ex-Musicians," a song that found the musicians sounding like they were running out of steam toward the end, a brilliant but deliberate way to finish out the piece.
Ex-musicians, indeed.
No question, part of the entertainment was watching trombonist Bryan Hooten who was sitting in front of me, get caught up in Glows' music, too, sometimes raising his hand as if to conduct a note higher and sometimes just keeping time madly in his lap.
They finished with "Up and Down," and everyone in the audience leaned in hard, knowing that they and Bergman were racing for the finish.
And just for the record, things didn't end especially well for the Swedes.
The Marcus Tenney Trio came next playing songs from their upcoming album, which Marcus qualified by saying, "It's gonna come out soon. We just don't know when."
You see, you have to stay loose in jazz.
This set's entertainer was Reggie Pace from Glows, who was bobbing his head and grooving hard throughout the trio's set.
When I went to leave, Reggie said hi, asking me if I'd seen the Bergman movie before.
Alas, I had to admit that I hadn't, although now my interest is piqued.
But who else besides Glows in the Dark is going to show that movie for me to see?
And if they show it, they will play music and, once again, I will get too wrapped up in watching Cameron tear up his bass.
Or Scott make his guitar sound almost like a piano.
Or Reggie bend notes on his trombone.
Or John sputter and wail on his sax.
Or Scott look like a blur as his hands move so fast on the drums I can't keep up.
Yep, I've got no chance of ever fully paying attention to the interesting films Glows in the Dark shows behind their killer soundscapes.
When they bring the heavy, I like to hang on for every note.
That I'm sure of.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Cat and Mouse Jazz
There's just no telling where the madness will end.
When the Listening Room began two years ago, it was a simple evening of acoustic music.
Then after a while, there were bands with electric instruments. Next thing we knew there were drums! Oh, my!
Well, they went and did it tonight. Or maybe I should say Antonia Begonia did it tonight.
Because she was the brilliant one who curated the first Listening Room devoted to jazz. There wasn't a folkie in sight (on the stage, anyway).
The Marcus Tenney Trio officially broke the ice, indoctrinating the crowd into this brave new world with his own songs as well as some by the bass player and drummer, whose "I'm Allergic to My Cat" proved that well-executed jazz doesn't require pompous titling.
The rock bassist sitting next to me couldn't help but drop his jaw over the bass player's nimble fingers flying over those fat strings.
Although I've seen this trio before, never had I had the pleasure of hearing them in a silent room.
Later, offstage, Tenney said that it was amazing to play for an attentive audience. "I was a little nervous," he admitted.
The audience was smaller than usual tonight and none of the regulars could figure out why.
Was it because the date fell earlier in the month? There were two kinds of brownies; there should have been hordes of people.
Don't make me go on a rant about people being close-minded about musical genres.
Smalltown was a sextet comprised of some of RVA's best jazz musicians from all kinds of bands: Fight the Big Bull, Glows in the Dark, SCUO, Jason Scott Quintet, Ilad, Bio Ritmo and probably others I don't know or are forgotting.
It was like watching a master class because of the serious talent (Clark, Burton, Ralston, Miller and Scott) on stage, including vibes by Matt Coyle who seems to be showing up a lot these days. Clearly we were a town in need of a vibes man.
Their music was penned by saxophonist/clarinetist Scott, including a song about the mouse infestation in his NYC apartment, a lively piece that made it easy to conjure up scurrying rodents.
The music was big, at times almost cinematic, and engaging enough to pull in any jazz-phobic types who may have been in the audience.
Actually, after the performance I spoke to several people who said that after what they'd heard, they felt jazz should be a recurring feature of the Listening Room from here on out.
With next month starting Year Three, there's no telling what might happen.The only guarantee at the Listening Room is that there won't be any talking while there's music.
I did get my talking fix, though, with those smart enough to show up for the music and afterwards when the scientist suggested I join him for a bite since he was starved.
Since we don'tusually ever eat together, I questioned his motive.
"Well, I figured you're always up for going out," he explained, "And I haven't eaten all day."
Why not? We headed to the Belvidere and a full bar so I sat at a table for the first time probably since my initial visit there.
While he enjoyed his first meal of the day (I'd have been dead by then), I got a tour of the art show hanging in the restaurant from the artist himself.
I was taken with what I saw and hope to be the recipient of one of his symbolic and angst-filled pieces soon.
Returning to the table, the scientist and I chatted about his memories of seeing people having sex on a tony New Orleans front yard, the savvy uses of Facebook (I, at least, use it to my social advantage) and the pleasures of an expanded vocabulary.
Walking outside to discover we'd missed a light rain, I commented on the fragrant and warm damp air and he began to explain the physics of relative humidity.
No, really.
Why spend time with a scientist if you're not going to learn something?
Why go to the Listening Room if you're not open to any kind of good music?
When the Listening Room began two years ago, it was a simple evening of acoustic music.
Then after a while, there were bands with electric instruments. Next thing we knew there were drums! Oh, my!
Well, they went and did it tonight. Or maybe I should say Antonia Begonia did it tonight.
Because she was the brilliant one who curated the first Listening Room devoted to jazz. There wasn't a folkie in sight (on the stage, anyway).
The Marcus Tenney Trio officially broke the ice, indoctrinating the crowd into this brave new world with his own songs as well as some by the bass player and drummer, whose "I'm Allergic to My Cat" proved that well-executed jazz doesn't require pompous titling.
The rock bassist sitting next to me couldn't help but drop his jaw over the bass player's nimble fingers flying over those fat strings.
Although I've seen this trio before, never had I had the pleasure of hearing them in a silent room.
Later, offstage, Tenney said that it was amazing to play for an attentive audience. "I was a little nervous," he admitted.
The audience was smaller than usual tonight and none of the regulars could figure out why.
Was it because the date fell earlier in the month? There were two kinds of brownies; there should have been hordes of people.
Don't make me go on a rant about people being close-minded about musical genres.
Smalltown was a sextet comprised of some of RVA's best jazz musicians from all kinds of bands: Fight the Big Bull, Glows in the Dark, SCUO, Jason Scott Quintet, Ilad, Bio Ritmo and probably others I don't know or are forgotting.
It was like watching a master class because of the serious talent (Clark, Burton, Ralston, Miller and Scott) on stage, including vibes by Matt Coyle who seems to be showing up a lot these days. Clearly we were a town in need of a vibes man.
Their music was penned by saxophonist/clarinetist Scott, including a song about the mouse infestation in his NYC apartment, a lively piece that made it easy to conjure up scurrying rodents.
The music was big, at times almost cinematic, and engaging enough to pull in any jazz-phobic types who may have been in the audience.
Actually, after the performance I spoke to several people who said that after what they'd heard, they felt jazz should be a recurring feature of the Listening Room from here on out.
With next month starting Year Three, there's no telling what might happen.The only guarantee at the Listening Room is that there won't be any talking while there's music.
I did get my talking fix, though, with those smart enough to show up for the music and afterwards when the scientist suggested I join him for a bite since he was starved.
Since we don't
"Well, I figured you're always up for going out," he explained, "And I haven't eaten all day."
Why not? We headed to the Belvidere and a full bar so I sat at a table for the first time probably since my initial visit there.
While he enjoyed his first meal of the day (I'd have been dead by then), I got a tour of the art show hanging in the restaurant from the artist himself.
I was taken with what I saw and hope to be the recipient of one of his symbolic and angst-filled pieces soon.
Returning to the table, the scientist and I chatted about his memories of seeing people having sex on a tony New Orleans front yard, the savvy uses of Facebook (I, at least, use it to my social advantage) and the pleasures of an expanded vocabulary.
Walking outside to discover we'd missed a light rain, I commented on the fragrant and warm damp air and he began to explain the physics of relative humidity.
No, really.
Why spend time with a scientist if you're not going to learn something?
Why go to the Listening Room if you're not open to any kind of good music?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Just Slide Off Your Stool, Pal
Question: What's the best time to do a post-mortem of Folk Fest weekend?
Answer: At a Monday night jazz show at The Camel.
Tonight's Scott Clark 4-Tet show (with the Marcus Tenney Trio opening) offered up a house full of musicians, all of whom were eager to share whom they'd seen and how they'd liked them. I was happy to hear everyone's opinions and compare notes.
Consensus: Parking was a bitch but the music absolutely ruled. Need I add that the Persians came up yet again?
When I'd arrived, the door guy had teased me about being back so soon (48 hours after my last visit) and how I'm there so often because The Camel has the best music in town. While that isn't always true, they are the most reliable spot for great music on off nights and tonight was another perfect example of that.
Five bucks bought some of the best local jazz talent playing right now as well as some of the most original composing coming out of RVA. I'm a huge fan of Scott Clark's drumming (see bands Ilad and/or Glows in the Dark) and low-key persona; but when he lets loose on the drums, he becomes anything but.
But not quite like the completely drunk guy at the bar whom I mistakenly sat down next to. He's the same one who often attends shows there and does the fist pumping and off-beat dancing inches away from the band.
Looking at me bleary-eyed, he asked, "Do you need a drink?" to which I answered, "No, I don't need a drink."
He gave me the hairy eyeball and to punish me, I guess, said, "Good, then you're not getting one," and turned his back on me, shortly before beginning his slow slide out of the stool. "Better pay," he mumbled to the bartender. "You already did, Ace," Dave informed him. "Twice."
Trumpet, sax, upright bass and drums. If it's Monday, it must be jazz.
Answer: At a Monday night jazz show at The Camel.
Tonight's Scott Clark 4-Tet show (with the Marcus Tenney Trio opening) offered up a house full of musicians, all of whom were eager to share whom they'd seen and how they'd liked them. I was happy to hear everyone's opinions and compare notes.
Consensus: Parking was a bitch but the music absolutely ruled. Need I add that the Persians came up yet again?
When I'd arrived, the door guy had teased me about being back so soon (48 hours after my last visit) and how I'm there so often because The Camel has the best music in town. While that isn't always true, they are the most reliable spot for great music on off nights and tonight was another perfect example of that.
Five bucks bought some of the best local jazz talent playing right now as well as some of the most original composing coming out of RVA. I'm a huge fan of Scott Clark's drumming (see bands Ilad and/or Glows in the Dark) and low-key persona; but when he lets loose on the drums, he becomes anything but.
But not quite like the completely drunk guy at the bar whom I mistakenly sat down next to. He's the same one who often attends shows there and does the fist pumping and off-beat dancing inches away from the band.
Looking at me bleary-eyed, he asked, "Do you need a drink?" to which I answered, "No, I don't need a drink."
He gave me the hairy eyeball and to punish me, I guess, said, "Good, then you're not getting one," and turned his back on me, shortly before beginning his slow slide out of the stool. "Better pay," he mumbled to the bartender. "You already did, Ace," Dave informed him. "Twice."
Trumpet, sax, upright bass and drums. If it's Monday, it must be jazz.
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