I'd like to take a minute to thank some people who will never read this. Like my family's friends the Harveys, who gave us the little Hammond that lived in the basement. I'd like to thank my old friend Dan's parents, who took us to a Dave Brubeck concert when I was in 7th grade and had no idea... I'd like to thank my patient teacher, former women's olympic cross-country coach Brooks Johnson, who ran a Jazz Club every other Wednesday night at my high school, where we spun discs and argued about music; who took us on a field trip to a Sun Ra gig in a downtown DC club. We were asked to leave by the manager, who was nervous about our being underage; but not before we had our minds blown to piece
I'll get video up soon I hope, guitar & vocals, before too long. In the meantime, think of it as a poem.
Getting musically re-established in a new place feels, oddly, a little like dating. I’m coming from some long-term, if not monogamous, musical relationships. My roots band The Buskers has been around since 1993; I’ve worked with the drummer in my jazz trio for 17 years or more; and so on. Then, exactly six months ago, I arrived in Germany, musically alone and unknown. Online Dating While waiting (four weeks) for my instruments to arrive, I registered with a free online musicians’ registry. Seemed like a long shot; other profiles seemed to be mostly metal or tribute/cover band musicians, but I had nothing to lose, so I created a profile ("enjoys sunset walks and the beach" –just kidding), the
