There's a world I enter at times that nobody can penetrate. It is a world where jazz musicians are playing whatever the hell they feel like and I am the only person listening (actually with the popularity of jazz nowadays that's often true). Last Tuesday, Columbia released the 50th anniversary edition of Miles Davis' Kind of Blue with an extra disc containing live performances of the material. Oh my God! It is just wonderful. To hear these great musicians play is something most of you just don't get, don't like, or don't care. To me, it is the one thing that takes me out of this world.
Jazz is subjective. Jazz is whatever you want it to be. For instance, to me, jazz is nothing like it is today. Kenny G isn't jazz, Wynton Marsalis is jazz. But you tell me who outdraws who? Go ask Lisa Simpson what I'm talking about (once again it's my world!).
Now a bit of a rant. Jazz in it's pure form was invented by African-Americans. It is a gift. Yet at virtually every jazz concert I have ever attended, whether it be Wynton, or Basie, or Dizzy, or Miles, or Ahmad Jamal, 90% of the crowd is white. African-Americans ignore this art form. I have no idea why. It is a sad commentary to me to see this. I once saw the late Billy Eckstine put his hand to his forehead and look out into the crowd to see if "any brothers or sisters are out there". There were, but too damn few. It's sad. I am off to listen to and 18 minute jam of So What. I will re-enter the atmosphere about 18 minutes from now.
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