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Jazz Doesn't Suck

Instead of bemoaning the fact we don't live in Atlanta and how in Atlanta you can't swing a dead cat without bumping into something cool to do (like 8 billion little theatres and an unending choice of musical shows plus organizations to join) we decided to go out and DO something around here. Our drum teacher invited us to hear his group play. Ritzy neighborhood full of swank, that was interesting to see. I'm shocked they let us in.

Toaster and John and I went and it got me somewhat philosophical. Or what passes for philsophical for me. Toaster commented on how some of the instrumentals didn't have melodies. I thought about how we are struggling so hard (or I am at least) to learn how to play melodies on our instruments and here's this band that could play any melody in the world but their just doing some chord progression thing. This I linked to Picasso and his crazy cubism which he did despite the fact he could draw completely realistic pictures - whereas I can barely get stick figures proportioned. So is there this artistic cycle where you start out by making random sounds and spots then become adept at melodies and images then go beyond that to what can seem like random sounds and spots again?

Anyway, the night air was perfect, the lake and pavillion picturesque, and anytime I can sit under a tree and listen to music is heaven. I don't think there is anything I enjoy more than live music. They did mostly jazz and older songs (Just the Thought of You, Ain't Misbehaving, Summertime) and they were fantastic. Nicest of all, it brought up happy memories of going to Jeet's shows - didn't realize how much I missed that. I kept staring at our teacher waiting for him to do the Ringo head bop for me that Jeet always used to do. He didn't, but he looked really happy. And after the show he came down and hugged us. And we were really happy. And I'm still really happy.

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