So I have this little jazz gig on Fri & Sat in the summers in this dinky little coastal town, pop 1200.
Play with these older guys (80) and it's fun. Bop, old pop standards, showtunes - pretty standard fare. Much fun and delighted to have a gig like this out in the middle of nowhere. Piano guy is OK, sometimes drops beats or turns beat around, but we can catch him. Drummer is GREAT!! Been around, old union player mostly Vancouver and SF backing some heavyweights - a joy to play with.
This bar/restaurant is the "fancy" one in town and bartender makes good drinks so it's a festive water hole, especially towards the end of the night. Everyone bobs their heads and enjoys. We get compliments from tourists and passers thru.
So this guy wants to sit in. Fine. I know him, good guy, good time party guy. OK rock basser. Has subbed for me if I'm out of town. I've never heard him play and am excited to hear what my set up sounds like.
He starts playing and it's instantly obvious he's not a jazzer. He's walking, but his lines aren't following the progression - he's just randomly walking. And he's not pushing the beat at all - drummer is really emphasizing the rhythm and simplifying. It's like when a gorgeous girl opens her mouth to speak and has an awful voice.
OK, jazz isn't the easiest genre to play. But I look around the room and I swear no one notices anything. Except the drummer! The crowd is bobbing right along. Then this guys mother comes up with her cell phone and starts popping off pictures of the guy and he's posing like a bad cat.
I found the whole hilarious/surreal but at the same time unsettling. I'm 52 and have been playing a long time, a lot of it playing jazz. Jazz is something I've found I really have had to focus on. It's fun, but it also takes an extra awareness (for lack of a better word) to play. I don't want to pose playing it, I would hope I'm able to play it for real.
A lot of hard woodshedding for naught! (not
really true, but rant, rant, rant!

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