- Sep 4, 2010
- 3,304
- 2,730
- Disclosures
- Endorsing: Martin Keith Guitars
It was funny, and sad too.
Back in the day in AMsterdam I once was invited by a vague acquaintance to join a jazz standards Thursday night session run by a certain drummer. (Not that I am/was the greatest jazz player-but let's say at least i could hold a tempo and read a chord chart)
I was told the session started at midnight,down in the cellar. Now that bar was famous for being 'special' already - it was cheap, they had homeless dudes do the busboy thing, and they opened at 10am to service the early bozo set. Weed smell you could cut with a chainsaw. Not violent, spent many a relaxed evening there, but colorful, so to speak.
So I meet this session leading drummer and he looks like a serious basket case. A sizable crowd of zombies, drunks and other unhealthy looking denizens had gathered in that cellar. He counts off Caravan, goes off into nowhere, and what made it funny is that the crowd as on cue started hurling insults at everone on stage. After half an hour the owner came down and took away the bass drum leaving the session leader in a great state of artistic indignation. I had the impression that this whole spiel was a weekly Thursday night ritual.
I later learned the drummer had been a real talent on drums and vibes in his 1st year in conservatory, got addicted, and went totally down the drain. It is sad to end up like that.
Back in the day in AMsterdam I once was invited by a vague acquaintance to join a jazz standards Thursday night session run by a certain drummer. (Not that I am/was the greatest jazz player-but let's say at least i could hold a tempo and read a chord chart)
I was told the session started at midnight,down in the cellar. Now that bar was famous for being 'special' already - it was cheap, they had homeless dudes do the busboy thing, and they opened at 10am to service the early bozo set. Weed smell you could cut with a chainsaw. Not violent, spent many a relaxed evening there, but colorful, so to speak.
So I meet this session leading drummer and he looks like a serious basket case. A sizable crowd of zombies, drunks and other unhealthy looking denizens had gathered in that cellar. He counts off Caravan, goes off into nowhere, and what made it funny is that the crowd as on cue started hurling insults at everone on stage. After half an hour the owner came down and took away the bass drum leaving the session leader in a great state of artistic indignation. I had the impression that this whole spiel was a weekly Thursday night ritual.
I later learned the drummer had been a real talent on drums and vibes in his 1st year in conservatory, got addicted, and went totally down the drain. It is sad to end up like that.