What is the sight of one hand clapping?

I picked up this new DVD last week--a live recording of Fred Anderson, Harrison Bankhead and Hamid Drake performing at the lamented Velvet Lounge, Fred Anderson's great jazz club. The new VL should be opening soon, I hear, but the old one was really a special place. So the DVD is a pretty cool document to have of the joint, in addition to being extremely worthwhile musically.

As it happens, I was at one of the two shows that were filmed for the DVD, along with my buddy Jay. So let's just get to the question on everyone's mind: Can Rob be seen in the DVD?

Well, at the very end, the camera pans across the whole crowd, but stops right at edge of me: You can see my right hand clapping at the edge of your screen. I think you can hear me chuckle once during Bankhead's solo on the corrugated tube thing. And--most intriguingly--I think you can see me way in the background of the opening scene. I say "think" because even I can't be 100% sure. But I think it's me.

The only hope of a positive ID is probably if I get accused of a murder that took place that night, and my crack defense team has to use Blade Runner technology to digitally enhance the thing, and then call in the expert witnesses. Then it'll be up to 12 angry men to decide.

Barring that, you'll just have to take my word for it.

Seriously, this thing has some great music (also available on CD) by some great players. Harrison Bankhead must be the greatest unknown bassist in jazz. Hamid might be the greatest known drummer. And Fred is in rare form.

Recommended, if you like this sort of thing.

Overheard in Chicago

I stopped off at Caffe De Luca on Damen this morning to have some breakfast. I didn't care for the place much, though the coffee was good. It's the kind of place where (at least when I was there) they have as many employees as customers, and it still takes forever to get anything. Also, it's one of those ultrayuppie places where everybody comes equipped with a stroller or a dog, or, most often, both. Not really my scene.

Anyway, the woman in front of me in the interminable line to order was talking to someone who was already seated, and he asked if she was working today.

She replied: "People love Jesus, and they love real estate. Easter weekend is big for me."

Flowers for Jackie McLean

Jackie McLean, one of the greatest alto players in all of jazz, died yesterday. I'm not too surprised, because I'd been reading rumors of ill-health for quite some time. But I was still shocked to discover the news this morning.

No one had a tone like his--he had a unique sound even in his earlier work in the fifties. But his run of albums on Blue Note in the sixties is some of the most timeless music from that era. Three of my very favorite records are his Let Freedom Ring, One Step Beyond, and Destination... Out! Here he embraced the freedoms of Ornette Coleman, while still retaining his mastery of Charlie Parker's idiom Between the technique he had been honing by playing bop at the highest level for so many years, and his willingness to "step beyond" and take inspiration from the younger revolutionaries who were changing jazz at that time, he was able to make music different from anyone else's, and greater than most.

He wrote the liner notes to Let Freedom Ring, and in them he presents a short, incisive history of his musical life up to that point (1962), generously crediting so many others for their teachings and inspiration, right up to the people changing jazz at that time. He ends by saying, "The new breed has inspired me all over again. The search is on. Let freedom ring." Jackie was himself a great inspiration, even to a non-musician like me. I never even saw him, but I miss him.

He famously once said that we should "give them their flowers while they're still here." Meaning that we shouldn't wait until our heroes die to give them the recognition they deserve. Well, even if it's too late for that now, I still want to say: Thank you, Jackie McLean!