Straight, No Chaser

How many of you think you know Jazz?

I mean... really know Jazz?

I only ask this because I've been matting some prints in the apartment over the last week or so and I've come to the point where I've started to matte some Jazz photographs I received as a gift some time ago.  Each of these stellar portraits sat around 13"x15", which is not a standard frame size.  At all.  Therefore, a larger frame and the matte-cutter come out to play.  I've screwed up several to get to a point where the mattes are presentable, but it's not that at all, it's the subject matter of the framed photo I was touched by.

There was a time in my life where my music collection was littered with Jazz discs all over.  Undoubtedly, my connection with the saxophone had a lot to do with it, but I thoroughly enjoyed the artistry, creativity, and general emotion of it all. On one album alone, you could go from the highest bombastic flurry of notes to a teary-eyed emphatic 20-minute long soliloquy.  All I could think of at the time was, "How do they do that?"

What's it take?  Practice.  For all the practice though, one could never approach the raw talent of someone like Charlie Parker (sober or not), Thelonious Monk, or the incomparable John Coltrane.  Just looking at the photos as I drew them out of their sleeve reminded me of grabbing that brass horn and closing my eyes once again.  I don't think I have the chops for it anymore, but it's like riding a bicycle, right?  

At least I'd like to think so...