[Dixielandjazz] State Of Jazz

Robert S. Ringwald ringwald at calweb.com
Thu Aug 7 09:00:11 PDT 2003

For some reason the following message did not get posted on the List.  As
moderator, I received it from the DJML ML software.

I am forwarding it here.

Forwarded by Bob, mr.wonderful at ringwald.com


Last May, my sisters, brought their 20's something kids, some freinds, and
my Mom,  to see me perform at the Sacramento Jazz Festival with the
Boondockers. Our show was scheduled for 10 pm and so my family and I went to
listen to Big Tiny Little at a venue not far from the stage where we were to
perform. My family likes to have fun, laugh and joke, and felt real
comfortable sitting in the back of the open air tent, listening to jazz,
drinking beer, and catching up on family gossip.

My mom is 86, and using a wheel chair for convenience that night. My sisters
are 56 and 60. One raised 3 kids thru graduate school, the other a
practicing RN from Redding, has one kid in the Navy and another, a
practicing chef. One of my nieces, now a practicing Veterenarian in Nevada,
brought her husband, a golf course engineer for a major casino in Reno.
Along with the family, was a travel agent, who coincidently does much of the
band travel booking for the jazz festival.

A tall "gentleman," also at the Big Tiny show, stood up, turned around and
yelled at all the ladies to shut up and listen or go away!  Mind you, we
were sitting far enough away from the band that we couldn't see their faces
nor hear the amplified patter. While it is true no one in my family has ever
been asked to speak up, we are rarely told to shut up!

I had a similar experience on Mother's day at the local monthly Jazz Sunday,
when my mother-in-law, 83, my wife, and her sister, came to hear us perform.
Sitting, again in the back of a fairly large hall, we were told to keep our
voices down, during another group's musical set.

My sister, her husband, my sister-in-law and her husband, all used to
frequent a Sacramento pizza parlor back in the 60's to hear the Boondockers
back then when laughing and drinking and singing and talking were
acceptable. Many of our current OKOM muscicians got their first jobs playing
in places just like that pizza parlor, all over northern California.

Sometimes, I think that we take ourselves, and our love of one form of
music, way too seriously.  It didn't start out that way.  I'm afraid it may
end that way, though.  Serious people, slowly growing older, who have
forgotten what it was like to be young, free and lustful, who now discourage
others from engaging in such frivolous behaviour.

Our music isn't dying, it is being stabbed to death.

Art Terry

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