Suite No. 1 for Clarinet and Piano

It's one thing to create something. I have often, if not always, experienced tremendous satisfaction upon completing a creative effort, whether it's a musical effort or a written effort or some other sort of medium. But to have such a work embraced by someone else and presented is an entirely different experience. This happened this evening for me, as clarinetist Paul Green and pianist Jennifer Snyder performed my first composition in recital. There is no greater thrill than to have someone not only appreciate your creative effort but then spend time with it and enjoy it in a deeply personal way, using their talents to give the work life beyond the notation. Several hours later, I am still thrilled. And inspired to create much, much more.

Dad

Today we pay our respects for Dad, fabulous husband, father and friend, as he sneaks past the bouncer and enters the great jazz club in the sky.

My offering today is inspired by the many folks who have sent along their sympathies and reflections. Some folks knew him well, some knew him a bit, some did not have a chance to meet him. All are here with us today, either in presence or in spirit. All together, we embrace each other and our Dad in Love.

Dad was joyful and charming, known for his wallet full of punch lines, his ability to bond with all sorts of animals and creatures, and his love of jazz music. We remember him for his warm, wide smile, which always made folks feel welcome and part of his family.

Through all the challenges he met, and there were many, Dad demonstrated extraordinary grace and fortitude, fueled by his profound love for his family, for his friends and for life. He was able to meet his final challenge comfortably and peacefully, thanks to the extraordinary care and attention of his hospice caregivers.

The other day, our friend Andrea described her experience of our father and mother, which has been echoed by many folks: “he was truly for her, and she was truly for him.” It was one of the many gifts he offered – his profound devotion and caring for family and friends has been inspirational.

As my own path in this life has unfolded, I have had the splendid opportunity of spending the past four years living with my parents, having them as a significant part of my every day. Not many children get to do this, and those who do often struggle with embracing it. In my case, my parents made it easy. What they have offered to me, unwavering for 51 years, has been their unconditional love. My appreciation for this gift has deepened during these past four years. It is a gift that has nourished my sense of worth and strengthened my sense of purpose in this world; for this I am eternally grateful. I have read and been told by various therapists and counselors that unconditional love can only be offered by a parent for a child, that it is simply not realistic, much less possible, for two people who enter into an intimate relationship and partnership to offer each other unconditional love. I strongly disagree. I disagree because our parents provided the model. They have offered their unconditional love for each other for 53 years; it is the unconditional love they have shared with each other that has been the source of their love and devotion for my sister and me. “He was truly for her, and she was truly for him.” This is the quality that so many folks who have known both of them admire so deeply and are inspired by.

Dad will not sit at our tables again. He will not be insisting on picking up the check again. He will not extend his smile and hand in welcome and greet us with “hiya, Cookie!” He will not be picking out tunes on the piano, always safe in the key of C. He will not befriend the gecko on the patio screen. He has left us the task of remembering and retelling the Smedley and Smythe joke.

Our loss is tremendous. Indeed, the world is poorer for its loss of a gentle, generous and loving man. But he would not at all want us to dwell in sadness. We are richer for having known him. He would want us to continue forward on our paths in this world, inspired to offer to each other the joy, good humor, and love for life that he shared for so long with all of us.

Jazz is Home.

What is jazz?

Jazz is difficult to define.
Ask lots of folks, you’ll get lots of different answers.

When asked for a definition of jazz, Louis Armstrong replied,
“If you gotta ask, you’ll never know.”

Some say jazz is music that swings.
Some say it has a bluesy sound.
Some define it by its syncopated rhythms.
Some say it’s jazz when there’s improvisation included.
Some say that jazz is NOT the music of Kenny G.
Then there’s an old musician’s joke about jazz being “better than sex, and it lasts longer.”

Since its birthing in 19th century New Orleans, one style has followed another - from blues, ragtime, Dixieland and swing to bebop, cool jazz, modal jazz, avant-garde jazz, funk, fusion, hard bop, new bop. Why not simply acknowledge each style separate unto itself? Why do we continue to use the term “jazz” to encompass it all?

In preparing to teach my first jazz history class this semester, I needed to answer this for myself.
Here’s what I’m thinking at the moment.

I’m thinking it has something to do with our primal need to know where Home is.
Jazz is Home.
All the different styles that have emerged are related, like parents and siblings and cousins.
All the different styles come Home to Jazz.
And so we can, and do, say,
All these different styles belong to Jazz.

Because there are so many styles that fall under
the realm of jazz (the Home of Jazz),
the musical vocabulary of jazz (the language of jazz) is a profoundly rich one.

Indeed, Jazz is an extraordinarily expressive language;
this is certainly one reason why jazz continues to be relevant in our world today.
Jazz allows for conversation.
You can have an easy, how ya doin’ kind of exchange, as in a jam session.
You can have a formal, structured sort of conversation, as in an ensemble recital.
You can have a soulful, or sensual, or spiritually ecstatic conversation, beyond words.

Because it is born of a mixture of cultures and traditions
Because so many different styles have emerged during the past hundred years
Jazz is a tolerant language.

Jazz is a tolerant language because,
from the beginning,
it has welcomed individual expression through improvisation.

And because it is a tolerant language,
Jazz embraces change.
It enjoys being used in familiar ways and,
inspired by past innovators,
supports exploration of new paths of expression.

I venture to say that most jazz musicians are grateful to be able to play the music.
We are able to communicate our deepest feelings with others in this world
in a way that transcends verbal language.
As we study the music of those musicians who came before us,
as we continue to acknowledge and honor them,
as we continue to revisit our home,
as we go Home to Jazz,
we keep the music,
and the traditions upon which it is based,
alive and growing.

the inspiration of quiet 2

Could absolutely not fall asleep last night, wide awake for several hours. Though not like the solitude that folks experience in, say, the Alaska wilderness, for me it is certainly significant alone time. And I have a lot of it. What I noticed last night, after several hours of indulging in kakuro, is that it has been my habit during this sort of time to distract myself from the aloneness. I am hiding from the aloneness. Upon reflection, I think being alone is a significant factor in creativity. What happens when I am willing to be with the aloneness and everything that fills it with no effort and listen to it and cry out of sadness or be truly joyful and grateful for the miracle of being alive? When I have done so, I have been able to create music and verse. And it has been satisfying to do so.

So the challenge is to spend such time tapping into the wealth of inspiration that lies beneath, wanting to be released, waiting for a voice. That kakuro has become a bit of an addiction. Fortunately, I’m just about finished with the white belt book. I won’t go looking for the green belt book just yet. I have some creating to do.

the inspiration of quiet

There is a wonderful article by Alex Ross about the composer John Luther Adams in the 05.12.08 issue of The New Yorker. His piece, Dark Waves (available at the bottom of the article), is an extraordinary work for orchestra and electronics, simple in concept, powerful and majestic in performance. I wonder about the influence of all his quiet, alone time in Alaska, where he has lived since the late 1970s, where the treasured silence of the isolated wilderness is disappearing. Mr. Adams has been someone who kept his distance from the world beyond the quiet for years. He has no regrets about it, as he now ventures into the world at an international level and brings his finely honed and brilliant musical sensibility to new compositions. I imagine his life of intense quiet allowed him to develop his ability to listen to the surrounding landscape in a profound way; in turn, he has been able to translate his experience into music in an equally profound way. In his own words, “My music is going inexorably from being about place to becoming place.”