I got back to Jazz Gumbo a couple of weeks ago, after a few months away
from it. The studio has been upgraded, with a couple of new pieces of equipment
replacing what was nearly unusable. And the main console and chairs have been
replaced too. It felt good coming into the space and finding everything
working. I’d thought my first set back would be a disaster, because of all the little
steps and switches I’d have forgotten. But it went very smoothly, and even the
level was consistent throughout.
No question but that doing the
show lifts me. I go through my albums at home and pick out twenty or so,
each with something I get a little excited about sharing. But
when I’m in the studio, and a cut is playing, and I slide that next piece from its
sleeve and place it on the turntable to spin, the sense of anticipation is
always a little different. Because now I’m fitting these disparate pieces
together, and there’s the question of the shifting mood and tempo of the show
as a whole.
As the music plays, it always
comes to my ears richer and more revealing than at almost any other listening,
and it can only be because I’m listening with more ears than my own. I’m listening with imagined ears that are hearing it for the first time, so
with that special sensitivity that elevates every first time. And I’m also
listening a bit with the ears of a critic, who doesn’t want too much
predictability in a set, but who will also tune out if stretched too far and unable to get into the flow of the set.
That’s my aim always: flow. By
which I mean transitions and juxtapositions in the music that bring out what’s
truly dynamic and alive in the work, so that it brings me alive, as I hope it will you. Because it’s always there, that spark, that life, in every
creative act. It's just that there are so many ways we habitually and unthinkingly tune out the great music that surrounds us constantly (just as we do the great experiences we live!)
I’ve discovered that there’s lots of music that’s brittle, scratchy or sour on the surface, but which can free up a knot in the head or a kink in the emotions like little else when offered up to a spirit that’s been a little bit prepared…by other music.
I’ve discovered that there’s lots of music that’s brittle, scratchy or sour on the surface, but which can free up a knot in the head or a kink in the emotions like little else when offered up to a spirit that’s been a little bit prepared…by other music.
I’ve been doing Jazz Gumbo for
almost eight years, and I hope to keep at it a good while longer. It nourishes
me, for certain. And there seem to be quite a few listeners around the world
who look forward to new sets as I post them. Now, with retirement, I’m coming
at it with a whole new openness, which brings a different level of
attentiveness. It’s a lot of fun.
The time of the live stream has
moved from Monday evening to Wednesday afternoon, which is way easier for me. And it keeps me out of the traffic congestion that was inevitable when I
invariably left the Hammer for TO two hours later than expected. There’s a lot
that comes of just being more relaxed.
I welcome new listeners, of
course. The two sites that support Jazz Gumbo are jazzgumbo.podomatic.com for
the podcast itself, and jazzgumbo.blogspot.ca which is a more complete archive of
playlists and album covers.
Bring your hungry ears!
Kirby
Bring your hungry ears!
Kirby
