The Late Starters Orchestra

Congratulations to my student Ari Goldman on the publication of his new book The Late Starters Orchestra by Algonquin Press. The book includes anecdotes about my teaching and involvement in his life as a cellist. I also served as technical consultant for all things cello during the writing of the memoir. In LSO, the author discovers a group of supportive and funny adult beginners meeting in New York (and worldwide) to rehearse and perform orchestral music. Publisher's Weekly has called it one of the best ten music books of its season. I highly recommend the book to anyone who is interested in taking up an instrument as an adult or as a gift to anyone you know who loves music and a good tale. Available at bookstores and on Amazon. 

Ari is a contributor to the New York Times, The Washington Post and other publications, is professor of journalism at Columbia and the author of several bestsellers including The Search for God at Harvard.

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The Vanguard Abides

Beautiful photo by Sara Caswell

Now that the high holidays and their incessant cello-ing are over and I'm just about done with my obsessive revisions of my new rock album, I’ll have some time to reflect over events of the recent and not so recent past.  Today I'm thinking about a run we did at The Village Vanguard this summer, with Fabian Almazan's 'Rhizome' octet.

Walking thru little italy and chinatown on an immaculate fall day, I'm here just for the release. It's natural to reminisce on a day like this and, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna wax nostalgic for a while. As a kid, I used to jump the R train from borough hall to canal street and ride my skateboard through these streets, picking up cheap dope clothes at canal jean and having lunch with my brother at house of vegetarian on mott. I had my aiwa in my pocket, Sandinista! on auto reverse.

Walking around here now makes me think of all the places that have come and gone and of how I've changed in the mix. Looking at myself in a skype window this morning, sending a video message to a bud, I angle my head to mask the most egregious lines.

Like my mug, nyc undergoes a constant change. Some things remain...House of Veg is still there and is still a favorite mtg spot for my bro and me. Canal Jean's been replaced by H+M.   As I walk down the craggy and untameable streets, I can't help notice the new timbre and energy of the city. It's a big fashion nowdays for NYers to bemoan this change,  to rank on taylor swifts ‘welcome to ny,’ to get on the hate loop, almost the way tourists get on the Grey Line.  I paid my fare and enjoyed the ride but I'm craning my neck to get a better view now lest I go crazy cursing out the new inhabitants, buildings, boutiques, and banks and shrivel up into a special kind of Scrooge wheeled in just in time for lovely ny xmas.  I can still feel the radical realness of New Yorkers and I'm focussing on that today. And I'm not just talking about how the stereotype speaks his mind, I refer to the unflinching ability we have to not cover up who we are. No pleasantries or airs. We are who we are even when we're silent.  So F... you.

A place that typifies this authenticity is The Village Vanguard.  Playing there is like entering a holy temple or shrine. You must wash first. Say your prayers. Mentally prepare to meet your maker.  Entering the Vanguard is like entering the wormhole in time bandits. A portal I mean.  I'm transported to those sweet high school nights I spent watching Diz and Boo here and at Sweet Basil. It manages to preserve the energy of my NYC childhood too, and is one of the few places I feel that. Moreover, the personal vibes and sound vibrations of the past masters are all preserved there, like an Essex street pickle bobbing in brine.

Sitting on stage with the band during sound check the afternoon of our first show, I’m enthralled and shaken by these ghosts. Miles, Monk and Mingus all swerve and spin about my head.  I look over my shoulder at a life-sized bust of Coltrane and he and I begin a dialogue. Like a Dickens spectre, he's not overly encouraging. I've got to watch my step, pay attention to my playing and above all be real. No shiny bullshit.  I get it John. Thank you. I'll do my best. And please put in a good word for me with the  JazzGod.  I feel stupid talking about it almost like it's wrong. Sacrosanct this feeling at the Vanguard. Am I breaking an oath? Perhaps.

But the feeling abides.  Even now in early November I'm haunted by the resonance of sitting on that stage. The photo sits on my desk daily reminding me of the glory of playing to a small room of devoted supplicants of art. they dint come for glitz- they entered a dark and dank basement and spent the evening emitting their b.o. and loving human warmth at me.  I felt it. 

And Rhizome is one of my favorite groups to be with,  favorite peeps who are also gorgeous musicians. Incredible compositions by Fabian there. We played at the Kennedy Center in the spring for the Blue Note Records 75th Anniversary.  And I must say that although I quaked and trembled in anticipation, the effect of being there couldn't compare to being inside my dear Vanguard. The stony carpeted halls maybe reminded me too much of my first home, Lincoln Center, where I spent my college days at the worship of other masters-Bach Beethoven and Brahms- yet never feeling their actual spirits were allowed in the building.  Maybe they forgot their i.d.

There are a few spots like the Vanguard still knockin about the city and maybe if you and I continue to focus on them we can kindle a fire akin to the days when as kids we held the magnifying lens over paper in the backyard and let the sun burn it's bright way into our brain cells, memorizing the moment our spirits were called to bend the knee at the altar of art and of music and of love.  I plan to.

Beyond Beauty

Detail of Shoah memorial at Cong. B'nai Torah, Boca Raton

 

This week I had the privilege to play some great music. Playing is always a gift, but I say privilege here because this type of performance wasn't always permitted, and its timing coincided with a historic milestone.

Wednesday was the 70th anniversary of the Liberation of Auschwitz, the Nazi death camp. Basya Schechter and band played John Zorn's downtown venue, The Stone.  Basya's 'Songs of Wonder' is a powerful setting of the poetry of prophet Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, who was also a freedom fighter with MLK.  The poetry too, is a celebration of freedom: in this case his own youthful exploration of life outside the Hasidic community. 

Photo of Basya and me at The Stone by Mark Kirschbaum

It's funny for me, because I really don't play too much Jewish music these days. Since my efforts with Sacred Time, I've been laying low as a Jew and working hard on my rock songs. So I felt there was something special about this confluence of events, something of particular import for me.  

It turns out the timing was everything. 

For most of my life I've avoided the Holocaust. Never wanted to study it, read about it, talk about it.  I'm a sensitive dude; paying attention to something that dark had consequences for me. Meanwhile, my relationship to Judaism suffered from it. 'Why can't we just live in the present?', I'd mentally plead while listening to another sermon, shunning services and holidays except when hired to play. And the Holocaust as a returning topic of discussion kept me from getting close to some family, some of whom are now sadly beyond reach. 

But this week was an opportunity for me. Instead of looking back at the horrors of 70 years ago, I could reflect on the fact that it's over.  I meditated on the courage of the troops who brought the war to an end. Who liberated the camps. Without their tremendous sacrifice, there probably wouldn't be much of a Jewish people, let alone a thriving downtown Jewish music scene :) 
                                        *****

'When I get to NYC lets go somewhere openly Jewish'. These were the words of an Arab-American friend a week after the attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the kosher supermarket. He wanted us to celebrate freedom of expression and freedom of religion; to celebrate the ability of Jews to be Jews. I was deeply grateful. 

It's been a terrifying time to be Jewish, as anti Semitism is spiking all over Europe. In Sweden, the relatively peaceful place I once lived, hate of the Jewish community I came to know is on the rise. Thousands of French Jews are leaving for Israel, the number growing exponentially each year.  All of the facts and figures scare me. 

They scare me so much that I was afraid to write this piece. Afraid to take a public stance as a Jew. Afraid to tweet and FB about my Jewish performances. Afraid to share the locations of our shows. As our band enters a temple compound in Florida for another performance, a thickly armored and heavily armed guard greets us and questions us. It's necessary but It ain't fun. 

But despite the fear, my buddy had unearthed an imperative: Now is the time to celebrate jewish expression, to shout our beauty from the rooftops.  Never has it been more important to share our sublime vision with the World and for the World to do the same. When oppression dawns, resistance is imperative. As the world proclaims 'Je suis Charlie', I agree and I add:

      'Je suis un Yid' 'I am a Jew'

please join the call.  

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