Ted Nash Official News Feed

What is Improvisation?

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 02:13:36 +0000

I’m psyched! Doing a “Jazz For Young People” with Matt Wilson and friends this Friday and Saturday. Playing with Matt is always an experience. And unpredictable. Like when we played a duo concert at Merkin Hall, and ended up doing skits. And making carrot juice. Check out the video.

Well, this concert coming up this weekend should be full of surprises. I have already seen the script, and he has everyone acting and playing roles. I know it’s meant for kids and families, but even if you are kid-less you need to come check this concert out!
For more information.

I gotta learn my lines...

Sittin’ in with Sutton on Saturday

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 19:16:24 +0000

Had a great time the other night at Birdland! Went down to catch The Tierney Sutton Band for their last set of the week. I was really glad I showed up. I was in one of those “stay-at-home-on-a-Saturday-night” moods, but reminded myself what I ask other people sometimes: a few years from now what are you going to remember - that you stayed home and got some work done, or went to be part of something?

The band was playing music from many of their recordings, including their most recent, American Road. The West Side Story arrangements were killing. What I love about this band is that they have been together for almost 20 years, and the kind of trust and intimacy that comes with this long-term relationship really shows.

Tierney is like family. Her husband, the great trombonist Alan Kaplan, and I have been friends since we played in the Don Ellis Band together, back when we were practically kids (not sure how old Alan was, but I was 17). When my mother passed a couple years ago, Tierney and Alan were among the close friends and family that were at the wake.

I have been reprimanded in the recent past for not bringing my horn down to someone else’s gig (thanks, Wynton!) so I had my alto with me when I walked in the door at Birdland on Saturday. When I saw Tierney she said “Hey, you got a horn with you?” “Of course” I replied, as if I did that every time I went anywhere.

On the 5th tune, Tierney announced: “We are going to do something we have never done in all the years we have played at Birdland - have a horn player sit in with us.” I had no idea we were setting a precedent. I figured it happened all the time. She gave me a very generous introduction and I grabbed my 70s Vito alto and got to the stage just as they began Caravan. The band was killing, and being part of their sound felt as if I had played with them for years.

Toward the end of the set Tierney called me back up to play a ballad of my choice. I said the first song that came to mind: “My One and Only Love,” not even sure how well I knew it. Tierny turned to her pianist, Christian Jacob, and he just kind of shrugged like it should be cool. Tierny started singing where it felt natural, and then Christian joined in, followed by Kevin Axt (bass) and Ray Brinker (drums). Between phrases Tierney said “Did I pick a stupid key like B, or something?” showing both her sense of humor and easy-going style.

The key really wasn’t important. What was important is that everyone played with such sensitivity and creativity. Particularly Christian, who really knows how to take risks behind Tierney without getting in her way.

Glad I didn’t stay at home.

Hippie Mobile, Part II (to catch up, see previous blog)

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 18:44:29 +0000

We had to wait for about thirty minutes for them to get to us, still parked next to the gas pump, sticking out a little, in peoples way. When they arrived they looked at me like “If this starts right up I’m going to be mad.” Like when I couldn’t find a shoe or something and my mom would come upstairs saying “If I find this right away you’re in trouble.” Which never made a lot of sense to me. But anyway, they tried the ignition a few times, with negative results. I was hoping they would be mad at me...

We push-started the van (one great thing about stick shifts!), and decided to head back to the shop to work on the ignition. But of course we didn’t even get that far when the engine lost compression, and got slower and slower, like the inferior “ordinary carbon” battery in the Eveready commercials. We pulled off at the next exit and crawled to a nearby parking lot, the van coughing and farting the whole way. After working on the car for close to an hour they realized they needed more tools and parts, and drove back to the shop.

Ivette and I walked about a half mile down the street to an ice cream shop and waited out the delay eating double scoops of mint and mocha. Mainly we just wanted to be indoors where it was warm (of course we came to Florida on the coldest day of the year).

Forty-five minutes later the guys were back with thick canvas bags full of tools and parts. We watched as they replace the battery, the starter, and the points. All to no avail.

The AAA flatbed tow truck arrived about an hour later, and the guy attached a huge cable to somewhere under the perfectly preserved bumper. “I just want to let you know the bumper where the chain is scraping against it might get a little scratched,” he informed me perfunctorily. I suggested he put a rag between the chain and the bumper, and he did, with a look on his face like I was asking for more than anyone else ever had.

After about three hours at the shop the van was once again ready to hit the road. Something to do with the distributor, I think. Hand shakes all around, more comments from both sides about how beautiful the van was, etc. Whether we had intended to or not, we had gotten to know these people.

Finally - on the road! There had been a bomb threat on the main route (I guess someone wanted to blow up a palm tree, or something) so we were redirected onto a smaller residential street through the hood. (The sellers had earlier talked about how dangerous this part of town was.) We hit a speed bump and the headlights went out. I slowly drove for a couple blocks while trying to get the lights to come back on, pushing and pulling knobs, the windshield wipers wiping, emergency flashers flashing. Good thing we weren’t attracting any attention! I finally pulled over, but changed my mind and pulled back out when I noticed a couple rough characters walking towards the car.

We drove for half a mile and parked on bigger street, one with street lamps. I got out and lightly kicked the headlights (I had seen that in a movie once), but it didn’t work.

Back on the phone. Ryan and Mike were washing their hands (literally and figuratively) and almost laughed. I told them we were only a few blocks away and to wait there. When we pulled up, laughing ironically (at least we were still laughing), Mike reminded me that sometimes you had to jiggle the ignition a little, which he did, and the lights were back on.

“Bye, Bye, thank you.” “Good luck. Take care.”

This time we got about fifteen miles north on 95, and the van just DIED. Unbelievable. We called Ryan who by that time was home with his wife and kids, showered and ready for bed. It had been a long day. He put the call into AAA, and we sat in the cold camper for at last 45 minutes until the tow truck arrived.

We met Ryan back to shop, where we dropped the van off. The car was going to need new parts, and they would have to drive to Ft. Lauderdale in the morning to get them. Ivette and I headed to the nearest hotel. It was midnight, and last call at the lobby bar, where Ivette and I sipped a cabernet, and ate the free Double Tree cookies (our dinner).

The next day was spent hanging around the lobby, calling for updates. At one point I hadn’t been able reach them for a couple hours and I hoped it was because they were under the car, and not half way to Mexico.

When we finally did get them on the phone, it was apparent the van was nowhere near being road ready, and we decided to get back on a plane to New York.

*****

A couple days later Ryan called. The van, with rebuilt distributor, new battery, new points and plugs, repaired brakes, and new starter, was ready to be shipped to New York. “Good to go,” he assured me. I told him I’ll believe when I see it (and drive it more than 15 miles...).

I got a call from the shipping company on the following Saturday - the camper was in Brooklyn, in the shipping yard. I could let them deliver it, or come and get it for a $50 discount. I opted for the discount.

Bright and early Monday morning Ivette and I headed out to Brooklyn on the subway. A guy picked us up at the subway and drove us a couple miles to some industrial area near the water. We pulled into the lot, and there it was, wedged between a couple nondescript vehicles: my beautiful, candy-apple red 1971 VW camper. I guess it wasn’t a dream - I really did buy this thing.

I signed the necessary documents and climbed into the van, praying to the Hippie Gods somewhere that this would start. It did. Thank you Reality D. Blipcrotch (won’t make sense to you if you didn’t read Part I).

First stop: the DMV to get plates. The car was currently unregistered, without plates, and bright red. Not a great combination. Navigating through lower Manhattan using the iPhone GPS wasn’t working - it placed us somewhere in New Jersey. After a few wrong turns we finally pulled up in front of the DMV. It was closed! Martin Luther King Day! I need to start watching the news...

Half way through a nervous drive up the West Side Highway, with my constant glancing in the rearview mirror for police cars, the car started making a very loud noise. And got louder and louder. Hmmm...the car still had good compression. Then I remembered: I was supposed to turn back the key slightly after starting the car. The ignition switch was faulty and stayed forward constantly engaging the starter, unless you did this little trick Mike and Ryan had showed me when we first looked at the car in Florida. Well, I hadn’t done it, but did as soon as I remembered. Slowly the loud noise began to fade. The rest of the ride uptown felt calm and steady.

My original plan was to get to my neighborhood a little before alternate side of the street parking was over, to nab a good spot in front of my apartment building. The timing was perfect, but my plan wasn’t - there was no alternate side of the street parking in effect due to the holiday. By some miracle, however, I found a spot across the street. A good omen? Let’s not act so fast...

I got into my apartment and immediately called the police station and asked what would happen to a car parked in the street that didn’t have plates. “You can’t park that in the street. It’ll be towed. Or at least tagged. You gotta get that off the street.” I almost sprinted to the car. But was okay so far - no ticket. But the cop was right - I needed to get this into a garage for the night.

I get and turn the key and guess what - the car wouldn’t start. (You’re getting smart.) Just a loud churning noise coming from the back of the van. “The starter,” I thought to myself. “I burned out the starter!”

My neighbor Paul was home and helped me push start the car, and I drove it straight to the nearest garage, where it spent the next three days getting the burned out starter replaced, and having the tricky ignition to not be so tricky.

When I picked up the car three days later, it started and drove with no problem. I parked it in front of my building a couple days ago and every time I pass it, heading to the subway, or going to the store, there is always someone standing there looking at it. Or taking a picture of it. I guess it does look like some kind of museum piece. Come to think of it, maybe it WOULD be better off in museum...

The van will be used in a TV show I will be hosting called “The Best You’ve Never Heard.” This will be the subject of a future blog.

I have posted photos and a video here:
www.tednash.com/camper.html

Hippie Mobile, Part I

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 21:22:57 +0000

I am now the proud owner of a classic 1971 VW camper-bus, complete with pop-top, fold-down bed, sink and refrigerator. Why did I acquire such a hippie vehicle? Two reasons. The first is I have always had a fantasy of owning own, ever since my father’s foster brother Jerry Leroy, aka Reality D. Blipcrotch, aka Jerry Wiley (I’m not making this up) parked his in the driveway of our home when I was about 10 years old. Jerry Wiley was his birth name and the one he used as a young up-and-coming actor. The second one was his stage name when he became a hippie rock musician with a group called “1” (I saw them do a sound check at the Fillmore in San Francisco). This from Wikipedia: “Come is 1's only album. The band had been signed by Paul Kantner to Grunt Records. Pat Leraci was assigned to help produce the album, and encountered the lead singer, named Reality D. Blipcrotch, demanding such things as a marijuana leaf popping out of the record, and the record self-destructing at the end of side B.”

His third name came when he was born again and moved to Hawaii and started writing Christian operas.

Now, somewhere in the middle of this he dropped his camper off with my dad (who happened to be the cosigner!) and disappeared, leaving my dad to sell it to cover the loan. My mother vowed never to talk to him again, although I know my dad was in touch with him several years later when Jerry “straightened out” and was writing Christian operas. Apparently he needed my dad’s help to orchestrate the music. (I never heard any of them.)

Although I don’t remember ever driving in it, I used to often peek in the window when I was playing in the front yard. I was fascinated by the compactness, and that everything you needed to survive was in such a small space. Designed for total independence (except, of course, when you need a cosigner).

The second reason I decided to purchase this camper is that I am hosting and co-producing a TV show, along with director Douglas Chang and co-producer Ivette Dumeng. The camper will be my primary mode of transportation (and sort of a character in the show). I don’t want to divulge the exact theme of the show yet, but we begin shooting the trailer (or “sizzle”) later this month.

I won the cherry-red 1971 camper (with 45,000 miles) at an online auction. The bus was located in Florida, and I decided to fly down to pick it up in person, as I didn’t want to wire money to people I didn’t know, for a car I had never seen. I also thought the drive back to New York would be an adventure (it turned out to be more an adventure than I expected). Ivette insisted I not make the drive back to New York alone and flew down with me, to share the adventure, and the driving (although we discovered in mid-flight that she had never driven a stick before).

The sellers have a vintage car restoration business. Ryan, a nerdy-but-handsome guy probably in his late twenties, and his 40-something uncle Mike, who had a slightly graying ponytail, were waiting for us at the airport in a highly non-collectable Honda. We headed straight out to their shop so I could inspect the bus before paying for it. It was beautiful and in amazing shape for being 40 years old. Most of these vans end up being trashed, or over-customized (i.e. destroyed), but this was all original. I got in and started it and drove around the parking lot for a couple minutes, and it felt cool.

We then went to the bank where I withdrew and transferred the funds to the sellers. With title in hand we returned to the shop, got in, shook hands all around, and hit the road.

If any of you have ever driven an old VW, the engine kind of sounds like a lawn mower. Charming I suppose, but a little unsettling. We didn’t get more than ten miles up 95 when the compression started to go and I couldn’t get the van to top 45 miles per hour. We pulled off the highway and called the sellers. They suggested that since it had been sitting for a couple weeks the carburetor might have gotten a little gunky and recommend adding something to the gas tank that would help unclog it. I did, along with another half tank of gas. Hopefully that would take care of the problem and we could drive the next 1,210 miles without incident.

All strapped in and ready to go, I turned the key. Nothing! Wouldn’t even turn over. Just a click. I kept trying. Finally, I called the sellers again and they couldn’t believe it. According to them it had been running perfectly before we got there.

(to be continued...)

Bringin’ in the New Year Right!

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:34:09 +0000

Monday night was one of those nights. One of those good ones. Sometimes when I am at a happening that is truly happening, I think “This is one of the best places anyone could be at this moment anywhere in the world.”

Frank Wess is turning 90 this month and to celebrate, Dizzy’s Club paid tribute with a gig featuring the “Dizzy Gillespie All-Stars,” led by Roy Hargrove. The band featured some of the best musicians, younger and older, and was swinging like crazy. Jimmy Heath was in the sax section, if that gives you any idea.

The thing was that “All Star” as this band was, the audience was just as much so. At the table where Ivette and I sat (as guests of Frank Wess and Sarah) were Lew Tabackin and Toshiko Akiyoshi, Jerry Dodgion, Dennis Mackrel, and Ed Xiques. Sitting across form us was a man named Jimmy, the son of a saxophonist and teacher who not only taught Frank Wess in the late 30s, but Charlie Parker as well. Bill Charlap and Renee Rosnes were a table over. Dave Sanborn was there the set before. This is an example of how musicians love to come out and support those who have helped create and shape this art form, be part of the connection to this rich history.

Frank Wess didn’t sit in the sax section, as he did for years as part of the Count Basie Orchestra, but was a featured guest, and came out and swung on three or four tunes. It’s amazing that at 90 he can still play both with the ferocity and tenderness he did fifty years ago.

Christmas Memories, Part III

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 00:21:35 +0000

When I was six my father (none other than the legendary trombonist Dick Nash) had the brilliant idea of introducing me to music by teaching me to play the trombone. I think this action may technically qualify as child abuse. I survived, but not without an incident that traumatized me for life.

Now, if any of you know how a trombone works (I had to be reminded of this once by sacbut specialist Ron Westray, but that’s another story) you will be cognizant of the fact that at age six there is no way to reach the bottom positions - sixth and seventh - without either being a contortionist, or letting go of the slide. This restriction made it difficult, but not impossible to play a few melodies, and with this knowledge my father prepared me for my first concert. This took place on Christmas Eve. The repertoire: the perennial classic “Jingle Bells.”

My dad had me practicing for several days leading up to the concert. When the big night finally arrived, the extended Nash family, the Persoffs, and several other close friends were spread around the living room on our eclectic collection of chairs and floor pillows. An announcement was made and I entered from the dining room. There was no opening act, no fanfare. (True art needs no ornamentation). The applause became more enthusiastic as the group caught sight of the skinny little blond kid trying to carry this awkward assemblage of pipes. Even though I was nervous, I am sure I had the intuitive understanding that no matter what I played they would like it. But this didn’t stop me from taking this concert very seriously, from grabbing it full on, from giving it my all.

I got right to it. I remembered the first seven notes were the same, an A, and I had to put the slide down a little from the top - “second position” in my newly acquired vernacular. After that I faltered: the next note was supposed to a C, but sounded more like a B. Then I lost confidence and clammed a note. From there it was down hill. I think what I eventually played sounded more like “Dradle, Dradle, Dradle” than “Jingle Bells.”

When the song was over and the last note finally petered out, my performance was greeted by a thunderous ovation. My intuitive understanding also told me they were probably all faking it, and I ran back to the dining room crying. My father caught up with me seconds before the trombone was to have found a new home on the grass, on the other side of the window (in a pool of broken glass). “That was great! Perfect!” he assured me.

Once my whimpers had subsided, and my shoulders had made their last up and down spasm, I braved the family and friends again and did my best to receive their accolades (whether authentic or not) and had some egg nog.

Christmas Memories, Part II

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 05:10:22 +0000

Mr. Winter was the name of my junior high school band director, and although his name suggested something cool, he was anything but. He had a temper. And the way he dissipated this temper, which was easily aggravated by a room full of thirteen-year-olds and their benign disrespect, was to leave the band room and smoke a cigarette.

One day in early December we took advantage of his absence by passing a coffee can, collecting funds for his Christmas gift. This action was repeated several times over a week or so. When the clinking sounds of dimes, nickels and pennies hitting other dimes, nickels and pennies came to an end we new it was time to add up the booty. $16.34. Not bad.

My best friend Mike Lane and I were put in charge of acquiring the gift with this fortune. First stop: ask my dad for advice. “Cologne is always nice,” he said without much thought. “You’re not serious?” my mother snapped back, certain there was a more creative idea floating about.

“Hey,” my dad said, after giving it more thought, “why don’t we go down to Bob Stoller’s and see if he has anything lying around.” Bob was our very good friend - a brilliant sculptor, and card-carrying schizophrenic, whose Ventura Blvd. storefront gallery was a couple miles down the road.

We entered the gallery and Bob greeted us. The space was not large, but impressive with welded metal sculptures here and there on dark-stained wooden bases. The storefront was divided into three sections: the gallery, his living space (which was no more than a cot, hot plate, and chest of drawers), and workshop. The latter was the largest of the three sections, and clearly where he spend the most time.

“Hey, Bob, the kids collected some money for a gift for their band director at school and wondered of you had anything.” “Well, let’s see - how much did you collect?” I dumped the money on his desk. “Sixteen dollars and thirty-four cents,” I proudly reported. He looked down at the heap of coins, and back up at me. I figured the blank expression on his face was his attempt at veiling his overwhelming excitement. After a few seconds of thinking he said “Sure, I’ll do it. I’ll make something.” He told us to check back with him the following week.

More than a week had passed. It was now December 23rd, and my father decided it was time to call Bob. Bob had completely forgotten about the project, but promised he would have something by the next day and hung up. My father, sensing my disappointment, assured me Bob would pull it together.

Christmas Eve arrived. My father, brother and I were rehearsing the Christmas carols my dad cleverly arranged for our little trio, which possessed a range of strengths and weakness (mostly weaknesses). On this night, for the past couple years, we hopped around to households of various friends and neighbors. An important and well-anticipated stop on this year’s agenda was the house of none other than the hot-tempered Mr. Winter.

Bob Stoller called and said he would be right over - he had something for us. Bob also happened to be our flashlight holder when we performed our carols. He had originated and mastered a technique of holding three flashlights at the same time, equally illuminating the music on the metal folding music stands.

When Bob entered the house he looked stressed, excited and relieved all at the same time. With bags under his eyes, and a slight sweat covering his gray face, he produced his commission. Our jaws dropped and we gasped. Bob was holding the most beautiful creation: a conductor, complete with tails, in the throws of a passionate gesture. He had apparently been working all night on it, and was looking at us with a big grin, happy he didn’t disappoint us.

Later that night we quietly parked our car two houses down from Mr. Winter’s modest Valley ranch home and quickly set up our music stands. With the flashlights masterly focused, we began playing our first carol. After no more than ten seconds Mr. Winter and his wife opened the door and came out onto the porch, and listened intently to our concert. When we finished, they invited us into the house for a quick hot toddy. That’s when we made our presentation. I set the awkwardly wrapped package on his coffee table. “What is THIS?” he asked. “It’s a gift from the band,” I replied. “Open it.” “Now? In front of everybody?” He hesitated, and then just decided to go for it. Mr. Winter stared in disbelief upon seeing the art piece, and his eyes filled with water. In the three years I had been in the concert band, I had seen many of his expressions, but not the one we were witnessing at that moment.

***

About thirty years later, Bob Stoller was dying of cancer. I went to visit him at his little house (he had lost his gallery years before). He was in his bed, by himself, with the shades all pulled down. The air was stuffy, and smelled like cigarettes. We talked about art. I gave him a book I had put together of my young kids’ drawings. He looked at each very carefully. He then told me he was always looking for a childlike quality in his artwork.

“Hey Bob,” I said at a quiet moment. “Do you remember the time we came over and gave you sixteen dollars and thirty four cents, and you made that incredible sculpture for Mr. Winter? Well, that was was one of the most generous things I have ever seen.” Bob just laughed and said “Hell, you kidding - I needed the money.”

Christmas Memories, Part I

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 23:20:17 +0000

This is the first of three in a weekly blog about Christmas - my experience growing up in a musical family in California.

It’s no secret my father, Dick Nash, is a great trombonist. But less is known of his and my mother’s roles as civil rights activists. Through their associations with an organization called Operation Bootstrap, my family was introduced to a man who called himself Hakim Jamal (formerly Allen Donaldson). He was a disciple of Malcolm X, and became an active spokesman for the Nation of Islam and of Black Supremacy, groups that would refer to the white man as The Devil. You can read a little about Hakim Jamal here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hakim_Jamal.

In 1967, my parents got to know Jamal from seeing him at various civil rights meetings and fundraisers. When late December arrived, my mother invited Jamal and his family to come to our home and trim the Christmas tree with friends, a ritual very special to us. He said his family wouldn’t be interested. My mother snapped back, “Why don’t you ask them.” “OK, I will” was his response, sure they wouldn’t want to drive all the way from Compton to spend the evening in a white family’s home.

About three days later an envelope arrived in the mail with several letters, all handwritten by the Jamal children, saying “Yes, we want to come trim the tree with you.” My mother called Jamal’s bluff and won.

When the anticipated night finally arrived, my father made the climb up to the loft on a ladder that seemed to stretch upward for miles, a climb that took him to some magical place above the garage that we kids were not allowed to go. This is where they kept all the Christmas decorations, and other magical things (we imagined).

When the boxes were brought to the living room, my mother would unpack the contents carefully and dust everything off. In these cartons were items that perhaps because they were only seen once a year, seemed so precious and valuable - glass balls of the most vibrant colors, ornaments handmade in elementary school by my parents, endless strands of lights and tinsel. My dad would ask one of us to help him identify the “duds” along the line of Christmas lights and we would carefully replace them.

Eventually everything would be organized and ready for THIS YEAR’S TREE, which was certainly the best one ever. My mom would continue preparing food and drinks, and we kids would wait impatiently for friends to arrive so we could start trimming.

When the Jamals’ car pulled in the driveway, the headlights swept across the floor-to-ceiling curtains, and our pet Mynah Bird barked like a dog (mimicking Lucky, our miniature poodle). The front door opened, and six people poured at different speeds into the house. There was one person missing: Jamal. He was a very stubborn man, and apparently had no intention of coming in to be part of our Christmas, just brought the family as per their wishes, and in keeping of his promise. He actually stayed out in the car the entire evening. Looking back, I wonder what was going through his head for those hours, while his family was in the “Devil’s” house.

During the months that followed, the Nashes and Jamals got very close, and that summer went on a week-long vacation to the Grand Canyon.

I think that Jamal’s softening happened for a couple reasons. One is that Malcolm X had left the Nation of Islam, disavowing racism, and Jamal followed suit. But I like to think the main reason is that he saw my parents for who there were: caring, giving people that embraced all into their lives. No hidden motives, just love. Once he felt that, he opened up to and trusted us.

To open your home is the true spirit of Christmas. The gifts are pretty nice, too.

Christmas Memories, Part I

Mon, 12 Dec 2011 23:07:06 +0000

During the months that followed, the Nashes and Jamals got very close, and that summer went on a week-long vacation to the Grand Canyon.

This a portrait of the two families during that trip in 1968:

I think that Jamal’s softening happened for a couple reasons. One is that Malcolm X had left the Nation of Islam, disavowing racism, and Jamal followed suit. But I like to think the main reason is that he saw my parents for who there were: caring, giving people that embraced all into their lives. No hidden motives, just love. Once he felt that, he opened up to and trusted us.

To open your home is the true spirit of Christmas. The gifts are pretty nice, too.

Oh, Man...Oman

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 04:46:45 +0000

I am four hours into a flight to Oman. I will be playing a concert in Muscat with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, certainly making this the longest commute I have ever made for a single gig. We are part of the opening season for the new Royal Opera House. Sharing with us this exciting first few weeks of their first season is the American Ballet Theater, Placido Domingo, and Renee Fleming, among others.

If my seat on the plane is any example of what is to come over the next three days, this trip is going to be a trip. Actually, I don’t have a seat on this Emirates flight: I have a small room. It’s got lamps, a TV, various remote controls, and compartments I still haven’t figured how to open or what they’re for. On my left is a pop-up snack-bar. Even though the stock is all free of charge, I am conditioned from years of staying in hotels never to go for the overpriced stuff. The dining menu, which rivals any upscale Manhattan restaurant’s, can be ordered from at any time. I’ve had a salad, fish cakes, green tea, and have watched a movie using the provided noise-canceling headphones.

Here in first class (I was, in all fairness, bumped up from business) it seems that the number of flight attendants is equal to that of the passengers (although they probably call us “clients,” or “guests”).

Vince Gardner is in the seat in front of me, which is about a five minute walk. Sherman Irby is next to me, but I can’t see him because I have my wall up. I know he planned on getting some writing done on the flight, but if he is anything like me, he is far too distracted by all the amenities. I get more work done in coach, that’s for sure. Joe Temperly is in here somewhere, but I think it’s on the other side. I might call him on the remote which doubles as a phone, on which you supposedly can call other “clients.” The problem is I still haven’t figured out how to open the compartment with the instruction booklet (which probably also describes how to open the compartment to get the instruction booklet).

Anyway, I am looking forward to playing a place in the world I have never been, and to be part of a new cultural center that will provide opportunities for a lot of great music and theater from around the world.

I’ll let you know how it goes...in the meantime I think I’m going to order the sea bass, a glass of wine, make my seat fully horizontal and watch another movie.

Weekend in LA

Sun, 13 Nov 2011 06:38:07 +0000

I’m sitting near gate 33 B at LAX, getting ready to head home to NY after three days in Los Angeles. This place used to be my home, a million years ago. But whenever I walk in the front door of the house I grew up in, the one my family has had since 1963, I am transported back to a time when I was discovering so much. The thing so apparently missing now when I walk in that door is my mother, who passed away about two years ago.

I got a lot done in a short amount of time. The primary reason for my trip was to 1) master my new CD, and 2) work on designs at my mouthpiece manufacturer’s factory. In a addition to this I set aside time to catch up with my old friend Scott, who produced my CD. All of this was accomplished and still there was time to eat some good food, sit in at a club, and of course get stuck in traffic. By the way - Los Angeles road rage is not a myth...

First stop was the mastering studio of my long time friend Doug Schwartz. Doug is the son of one of the great studio saxophone doublers Wilbur Schwartz. Claim to fame: he played lead clarinet with Glenn Miller, and provided the syrupy alto sax theme for “My Three Sons.” And he was a world-class prankster. Before he opened his mastering business Doug was a busy studio engineer - worked with Blondie, Suzi Quatro, Motely Crew, etc. Started Mulholland Music many years ago and has been very successful. He bought the old Cherokee Studios, where many rock records were recorded in the 70s (Steely Dan, David Bowie etc.). It is a beautiful ranch in Chatsworth, a stone’s throw from the Santa Susana Mountains. Doug mastered my recording “Rhyme and Reason.” Great working and hanging with him, as always.

Day two: the Beechler factory. I have been playing a Beechler alto mouthpiece since 1977. I have changed facings over the years, but still with them. My visit had three objectives: 1) find a good student model for “Project Student Horn,” which I will get off the ground as soon as these mouthpieces are finished (see an earlier post); 2) make a copy of my current mouthpiece in a hard rubber material; and 3) try more tenor mouthpieces. Since I was 17 years old I have been using a metal Wolfe Tayne (AD facing) on tenor. I have always felt comfortable playing it, but it often sounds brighter on recordings than I think I actually sound.

Beechler recently sent me a hard rubber tenor mouthpiece, a Custom Jazz, which I respectfully set on my music stand, for some reason not very curious. Two weeks later, “just for fun,” I tried it and was completely surprised! It was dark and yet very projecting, with a lot of color. The next day I was flying to Cincinnati to premier my commission “Suite Ivette” at the Constella Festival. For three days I played only this mouthpiece, and at the end of my Ohio visit I had been converted. Yesterday, at the factory, I tried another similar model called a 110+, and it was even better: warm, dark and projecting. I am very excited.

It was great working with Judy and Mark at the factory. Very cool and knowledgeable.

The last evening was spent at The Out Take Bistro in Studio City, where Gene Cipriano, a great studio sax/doubler (“the most recorded musician of all time”) was playing an informal gig with Cat Conner (vocals) and Jim Fox (guitar). Cip, as he is affectionally known, was my dad’s roommate on the road with The Tex Beneke band (they also shared a room with Mel Lewis). They spent decades in the studios together.

I hooked up with my producer/friend Scott, joining my dad and Shelly Balloon (her real name - she legally changed it years ago because of her party/balloon business) and had some very good food and drink. Cip sounded great! His tenor playing had strong touches of Getz and Prez, and was very personal. I grew up playing football with his family every thanksgiving but don’t think I ever heard him play live.

My dad and I ended up sitting in on a few tunes, and I’m glad we did. It was a very informal, warm vibe. Of course, playing with my dad is always special. And there’s something about a father and son doing their thing together that people are moved by. Even if we mess up the changes.

My friend Scott had a couple-too many apple martinis and I was forced to drive his 12 cylinder, 500 hp Mercedes SL600 back to his house where I left my dad’s Prius. Things your friends make you do for them...

Constella Festival

Thu, 27 Oct 2011 19:05:33 +0000

Rolled out of bed at 5:30 this morning, waking to the ring tone I created using a fragment of “Sisters” from my recording Rhyme and Reason. (By the way, I now offer ring tones for sale on my web site - go to the “store” link.) Man, I am only one paragraph into this blog and have already plugged two things.

Anyway, I am writing from 28,000 feet. Just got on a connecting flight out of Philadelphia. I managed to get my horn in the overhead bin on this one. The first flight, from La Guardia to Philadelphia, presented more a challenge for my Pro-Tec tenor sax case. As I was boarding I was stopped by a ground crewman in a bright rubbery-looking yellow jump suit who assured me there was no way that case was going to fit in the overhead. I assured him right back “I have been flying for 25 years and have NEVER had a problem getting my case in the overhead.” “Yeah, but have you ever flown a Dash-8 before?” he snapped back handing me yellow claim tag, that perfectly matched his outfit. Now, the only small-plane name I can remember was the Fokker 50, which, after boarding in France last summer, cats in the band were constantly yelling out things like “I hope they get this Fokker off the ground” and “Wow, this Fokker goes fast.” But the Dash-8 was new to me. Got on the plane and of course the horn did NOT fit in the overhead. The man in the yellow suit appeared and said “Hey, man, it’s not a full flight - you can just put it under the seat behind you. I used to play the alto in high school, so I know what it means to be transporting a delicate instrument.” And with a quick smile he was gone.

I am on my way to Cincinnati to play the Constella Festival, a new music festival run by violinist Tatiana Berman. I will be performing a premier of a piece commissioned by Ms. Berman. She and I met about a year-and-a-half ago at a reception held backstage after performing Portrait in Seven Shades with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. It was at this reception that we started talks about a commission piece. Talks continued, concepts were decided upon, time has passed, and here we are - three days from the premier.

I am very excited to hear the music - a work in three movements I call Suite Ivette. It is written for the same instrumentation I used on my recording (and ring tone!) Rhyme and Reason: string quartet, sax, vibes, piano, bass and drums.

The next 72 hours will be very active: rehearsals, education, sponsor dinner, radio interviews and concerts. The premier will happen at the end of these very full days, on October 29th. The venue is the Blue Wisp, a great jazz club that I last played more than 20 years ago with my quartet. This was my absolute very first gig with pianist Frank Kimbrough, a story perhaps deserving it’s own blog.

I am looking forward to meeting and playing with the musicians who will join me to be part of this new music. By the way, in addition to the premier on the 29th, we’ve added a gig the night before, also at the Wisp, with just the jazz quintet - no strings attached.

For more information, visit the Constella Festival web site: http://www.constellafestival.org/events-2/nash/

Basic Update

Sat, 22 Oct 2011 17:21:33 +0000

I’ve got what feels like the first day off if in ages. But a day off is always an opportunity to advance projects and ideas that are floating around - either currently just a conception, or perhaps something you have started but haven’t finished. I have a lot of these...

The first bit of exciting new is my daughter, Lisa, moved to New York. She was born in Brooklyn, moved to Northern California at age 4, and grew up in a sleepy mining town called Grass Valley. She really does seem more a California girl than a New Yorker. However, after receiving her diploma in radio and TV broadcasting, she is back in the Big Apple, applying for jobs. Several blogs back I included a link to hear Lisa’s singing on a Youtube video, and will do so again here (mainly because I am a proud father):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZ4OPm305fE

Many years ago my father, Dick Nash, gave Lisa a beautiful old trombone he had once used. Lisa always loved playing it, and one Christmas it was hers - a vintage Olds Super with 7.5 inch red brass bell with a nickel resonator ring, duel-bore handslide (.485/.500), fluted inner slides and a nickel outer slide. In fact, this was the trombone my father first had me playing when I was 7, long before I could reach 7th position. I didn’t play it long enough to ever explore just what I might find in 7th position, but switched instead to the piano, for which I seemed to have a stronger affinity.

Well, Lisa has decided to part with the Olds Super and we just listed it on eBay. If you know any trombone players who might want a small bore horn, or are fans of Dick Nash and would like to own an instrument he played, this their chance. Here is the link:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=330629842891&ssPageName=ADME:L:LCA:US:1123

A bunch of other things going on, and I will write more detailed blogs as they develop. One I am very excited about is “Project Student Horn” which is getting under way. I have been buying and fixing up older professional alto saxophones, models that have been overlooked. Many young players can’t afford to own top professional instruments, as they cost thousands of dollars, and end up buying inexpensive student horns that are basically garbage. That’s just not right. I am going to launch “Project Student Horn” very soon, which will offer to students at a very low cost ($500) an instrument I have sought out for its nice sound and good mechanics, repaired and ready to go, with a new mouthpiece (I am currently working with Beechler on a design), neckstrap, ligature and cap. (By the way, I just recorded my latest album with one of these horns, and have been touring and performing on one with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra - used it on the PBS Live from Lincoln Center broadcast "Wynton at 50" last week).

More to come...

Video Series Posted - Part I

Wed, 12 Oct 2011 01:43:28 +0000

Hey All! Just posted Part I of a video series on my Youtube channel. Please check it out if you get a chance:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7G7W8KXbHs&feature=channel_video_title

Out Here

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 16:20:50 +0000

I’m tired, but feel good. I’m out here with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, about half way into a three week tour. Rolled out of bed at 5:30 AM to make our 6:00 departure from the hotel in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. This is not a particularly exotic trip - Kansas, Indiana, Wisconsin, Illinois, Kentucky, Ohio, Missouri, Minnesota, Michigan. The heartland. It doesn’t matter where we are, people come out to be what of what we’re doing out here, and we play with the same enthusiasm whether we’re in a large, richly-cultured metropolis, or a small farming town, where the local museum features the sculptures of John Deere.

I am sitting in the front lounge of our tour bus. Joe Temperly is to my right, doing the NY Times crossword puzzle, and Wynton is across from me working on his iPad. Funny, because we have always teased Wynton about his lack of hi-tech acumen - I don’t think he even knows how to turn on a computer. We’ve just finished a passionate discussion about the music business - the business of music. Wynton’s energy and vision is very inspiring.

People have slowly retreated into their own spaces - most have crawled into their bunk beds in the middle section of the bus. Its quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the radio coming from the driver’s section, and the hum of the the tires on the road.

I’m tired, but feel good. I am lucky that I have understood from very early on what I want to do. I look out the window of the bus and see farms, trees, stretches of land. It’s flat - your eyes can converge on a distance quite far away. Better than looking out an office window to a building exterior a few feet away. I think changing scenery and experiences, playing new music and meeting new people, keeps you young, despite how tough it can be it times. I think doing the same thing over and over every day is what makes you old. I look at Joe Temperly - 82 years old as of last week - and it reminds me of this fact every day.

I’m tired, but I feel good. I am fortunate to be playing with musicians with such a strongly creative dedication to this wonderful music.

New Record, New Insight

Sun, 18 Sep 2011 02:52:26 +0000

It took me almost a week to listen to the takes that were the result of a two-day recording session out at Maggie’s Farm last week. I wanted to give it a little space. Plus, I was a bit too busy to get the chance to really sit and listen.

I finally got that chance a couple nights ago. I experienced a reaction different from those I have had on previous first-listens. With this recording (creatively played by Ron Horton on trumpet, Paul Sikivie on bass and Ulysses Owens on drums) I have found something of myself that seems new to me. This is not about complex orchestrations and arrangements (like Rhyme and Reason, which features a string quartet), or an eclectic combination of instruments (as is the case with my Odeon recordings), or a tribute (like The Mancini Project). This is just me, hanging out there, exposed. True, this is the first time I have recorded an entire album on just the alto, an instrument I convinced myself some years ago I didn’t like playing (which lead to my departure from the Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra in the early 90s). Back then I felt trapped by the alto, unable to find that creative middle ground I could find more easily on the tenor. I do love the darkness, the air, the range of the bigger sax. It seems like there is more flexibility, more leeway in terms of phrasing and sound. So why is it I keep getting called to play alto? Why do people keep identifying me with an instrument I keep resisting? Maybe because I sound more like myself on it. Running from the alto was, perhaps, in some ways like running from myself.

It’s no wonder that for a few days after the recording sessions I felt waves of something similar to being on the edge of a cliff. Like a combination of insecurity and adventure. This just may be the most intimate and personal recording I have ever made. I am not hiding behind anything. None of us are. There is, in fact, nowhere TO hide: The band is very open and exposed, (having no piano or guitar filling up some of the spaces that usually get filled up).

Most of the tracks are originals I have written in the past few months, as well as one Sherman Irby composition called Twilight Sounds, and Kaleidoscope by Ornette Coleman. Some of the music I wrote for the film Chaography - Variations on the Theme of Freedom by Douglas Chang, and some I wrote for a recent gig at Kitano with this quartet.

Release date tentatively planned for late March or early April. I’ll let you know...

Camp 2-5-1

Wed, 31 Aug 2011 00:41:44 +0000

I spent last weekend at a camp located on a small lake somewhere half way between Ottawa and Montreal. Like most camps there are cabins here and there, spread out among the trees; people making temporary homes in tents of various sizes; there is even a main lodge, as rustic as it needs to be to remind you of where you are.

But what makes this camp out of the ordinary is that in every cabin is a piano and a set of drums. In the tents and rooms are people interested not in fly fishing, or hunting, or canoeing - no, this campsite is filled, in fact overflowing, with people who want to play jazz.

Every year, for the past 18 years, people from all ages - from the youngest teenagers, to those in their 80s - have been coming out to learn, share, sing, talk and play everything jazz. I have been able to join the roster of more than fifteen teachers, spending as much as ten hours a day running ensembles, teaching clinics, participating in improvisation classes, giving private lessons and overseeing jam sessions that go deep into the wee hours.

I have attended three out of the past four years at Jazzworks, which is run by John Geggie, Judy Humenick and Anna Frlan. (I missed last year due to a tour with Wynton Marsalis, recording and performing music for the silent film “Louis”.)

This is a truly soulful, down-home experience. The day starts at 8:00 AM when the over 100 students, teachers and staff meet in the large hall for breakfast. Ensembles begin sharply at 9:00 (or maybe dully for those who had jammed very late the night before). This year I was in charge of one of the “originals combos,” which featured compositions by members of the ensemble. My group, which the musicians affectionately called the Nash Ramblers, met five times over the three-and-a-half days. By Sunday’s concert, our ensemble was burning through it’s 15 minute set. Yeah, not a lot of stage time, but we did have to share the five-hour concert with about fifteen other ensembles.

David Glover, our alto saxophonist (a regular at the camp) wrote the first tune, a very catchy thing based on the changes of Jobim’s Triste - so catchy, in fact, that didn’t stop signing it in my head for about four days after returning to New York, which I did just in time to record a Christmas record with Michel LeGrand - but that’s a subject of perhaps another blog.

The next tune was something our bass player, Alrick Huebener (another Jazzworks regular), was reluctant to bring into the rehearsal. We talked him into into doing so, which was provident, as this simple little groove tune turned out to be certainly one of our hits. Our closer, written by our guitarist Jerry Battista, was a slightly complicated boss nova that also needed a little work to become performance-ready. We came to the consensus that it would be better as a samba, which had our drummer Andrew Price consulting with drum instructors Jean Martin and Nick Fraser for technical advice on how to properly play a samba groove.

Our ensemble was rounded out by the classically-trained trumpet player Laurel Ralston (who at one point casually mentioned she also played flute, which, borrowing mine, she used to great effect on Jerry’s samba); and young pianist Deniz Lim-Sersan, a teenager who really has it together.

This year’s Jazzworks had the highest attendance in it’s 18-year history, which I believe reflects the wonderful dedication of those who run it, and the enthusiasm and open-mindedness of those who attend. A great experience for all who make the trip - students and instructors. I am looking forward to next year.

For more information about Jazzworks:
www.jazzworkscanada.com

Let Freedon Swing

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 01:19:59 +0000

A couple great nights at the Kitano. It was one of those gigs you hate to see come to an end. What a great reunion with my Jazz Composers Collective colleague, trumpet player Ron Horton. I think the last time we played together was a year and half or so ago with the inventive mini big band he co-leads with drummer Tim Horner.
Playing with Ron is like getting back into the bath after getting out to answer the phone. Well, let me think of a better analogy: like putting on a favorite glove - a perfect fit.

Paul Sikivie on bass and Ulysses Owens on drums were swinging, always listening, and willing to go as far out and stay as close in as it needed to be.

The gig was called “Inspired by Ornette,” and was less a tribute and more an expression of respect and inspiration for this iconic alto player's music. Although we did touch on some of Ornette’s own compositions, we played mostly music not written by him. Several pieces were originals I wrote for a film by Douglas Chang, in which I play a character loosely based on Ornette. The film is called “Chaography: Variations on the Theme of Freedom,” and will be in production for a while.

IN anticipation for this hit at The Kitano, I wrote a couple new pieces for the gig. We had a rehearsal a couple days before, and just as we were finishing I realized I had completely forgotten to bring the new music, so we ended up basically sight-reading them on the gig. In retrospect, it was probably fortunate it happened this way, because we didn’t have a chance to preconceive any ideas as to form, solos, endings, etc., and it heightened our awareness, putting us on edge, in the most positive sense.

I plan to record this music soon for a release sometime in the spring, so look out!

Ted Nash's "Inspired by Ornette" at The Kitano August 12 and 13

Fri, 12 Aug 2011 16:31:53 +0000

NEW! TED NASH QUARTET "Inspired by Ornette" @ The Kitano

FRI 8.12 | SAT 8.13 | 8PM 10PM
$25 Cover (+ $15 minimum)
212-885-7119 (space is limited - please call ahead for reservations)

I am very excited to return to Kitano for Inspired by Ornette. I am also thrilled to play again with my Jazz Composers Collective colleague Ron Horton. This will be a reunion for us, so it will be a great night.

Joining us are a couple of my favorite young musicians - Paul Sikivie on bass, and Ulysses Owens on drums. We recently played together on a film by Douglas Chang called Chaography: Variations on the Theme of Freedom, playing music I composed to suggest the work of Ornette Coleman - you can read about my experience in my June blog. (I play a character loosely based on him. Use your imagination a little . . . )

I have always love Ornette Coleman’s playing and writing, and put together this quartet to pay homage to this icon of our music, and, well, to have a great time. We will be playing a combination of Ornette’s music, music I composed for the film, and compositions inspired by Ornette (by myself and others).

I hope you can come out and be part of this evening of special music, in a special place.
For more information: http://kitano.com/522/Bar_Lounge

Sold!

Tue, 02 Aug 2011 02:04:06 +0000

A man contacted me the other day to sell me a bass clarinet. It might seem strange that someone would contact you out of the blue to sell you something. Well, that’s not actually true: my spam folder is filled with junk about pills that help people achieve something they want to achieve very passionately. But a bass clarinet is not a common item for a sales pitch.

But this sales pitch was different. The bass clarinet in question belonged to my uncle, Ted Nash, who passed away three months ago, and the man selling it was Les Rose, a musician who used to do recording work in the Los Angeles. Les bought this bass clarinet, a vintage Selmer low E-flat (a rather coveted instrument these days) from another studio musician who played the Merv Griffin show with my uncle.

Now, I wasn’t particularly in the market for a bass clarinet, not even the coveted vintage Selmer, Low E-flat. In fact, my other bass clarinet is an even MORE vintage Selmer, Low E-flat, with a converted double-octave key mechanism, that had belonged to the late Wilbur Schwartz, saxophonist/clarinetist with the Glenn Miller orchestra during the late 30s and early 40s. He also was the alto saxophonist on the famous “My Three Sons” TV series theme (no, it wasn’t Fred Macmurray).

Anyway, in the market or not, how can you say not to your Uncle Ted’s coveted Selmer, low E-flat bass clarinet?

Now, this sale came at a remarkably perfect time, as Bill Schimmel (who plays in my group Odeon) asked me to play a piece he wrote for accordion and bass clarinet, which we performed last night at his annual seminar and concert series, called Walton the Imperial: Crowned. Dr. Schimmel is the undisputed King of the accordion. In fact, Tom Waits made the statement: “Bill Schimmel doesn’t play the accordion, he is the accordion.” This was my first live performance with my new instrument, and I have to say my new ax is fantastic. I actually enjoyed playing the bass clarinet for the first time.

Bill’s piece is titled “The Tango according accordion to Brahms.” Wild stuff. To give you an idea, when we were rehearsing it the other day, reading through Bill’s hand-copied score for the first time, we started improvising wildly - percussive squawks, outbursts of runs, intervalic jumps. When that came to an end I turned the page and saw the attached photo.

I asked Bill, “What is this?” and he said, “That’s what we just played.”
Amazing.

In addition to our duet, the concert featured at least a dozen fantastic accordionists, with squeezeboxes of varying types - some with keyboards, some with just buttons. Gary Larson, in the Far Side, said “Welcome to Hell. Here’s your accordion.” He should have come out to this concert last night. He would have been in accordion Heaven!

Home Stretch

Sun, 24 Jul 2011 05:35:30 +0000

Ah, yes - the final week of a six-week tour. These past few days have found us in Italy, probably our least visited of the bigger European countries in general. Wynton says it’s because the people here expect or desire more avant-garde jazz, but judging from the response we have had here it’s easy to say that just isn’t true.

Although we haven’t been playing much in the way of avant-garde music, we do include in our repertoire some pretty nontraditional compositions, like Vincent Gardner's Blue Twirl, inspired by the artwork of American painter Sam Gilliam, or Wynton’s Tree of Freedom, from his Vitoria Suite, or my Pollock, from Portrait in Seven Shades. What I love about our programming is that we will play one of these and then follow with something like Snake Rag from the 20s, and it makes sense, feels right.

We have been playing all outdoor venues, and most of them are set among ancient Roman ruins that are in better shape than some modern theaters we’ve played in. Since our concerts start typically at 10:00 PM there is no way to get to bed “early” (even if you wanted to) so much of the catching up on sleep is done on the bus, with several seven and ten hour rides. My seat on the bus is between two band members who have no trouble catching up, and whose adenoidal expressions are so extreme that even my Bose “Quitecomfort 15” noise canceling headphones do nothing to eliminate the vibrations that shake my seat like a bed you put a quarter in.

A couple days ago we played in Ravello - a town known for its lemons the size of Voit tether balls. From these they make their famous Lemoncello, a liqueur I had to try. And try again. (And again.) The climb up to Ravello was a bit disconcerting, but the payoff was enormous: the sweeping views of the Amalfi Coast are breathtaking. I mean, literally jaw-dropping. Our driver, a man in his thirties with greased-back hair, sunglasses, and a two-day shadow, provided warning honks as we navigated around sharp turns, many of them ignored by oncoming commercial vehicles, causing temporary impasses that were resolved by both backing up some and repositioning to squeeze by, practically scraping the short rock walls separating the road from a quarter-mile plunge into basil farms and olive groves below.

The high point of our two-day stay in Ravello was the afternoon party thrown by Jonathan Rose (of Jazz at Lincoln Center’s Rose Hall fame) in the villa he rents every July with his lovely wife. We enjoyed roasted peppers, various salads, octopus in olive oil, handmade brick oven pizza, local wines, and the aforementioned Lemoncello while taking in views of the Adriatic Sea.

Of course an experience like this has to be balanced out, and that happened the next day in Callabria. Although the concert was great, the hotel was a dive. My room was a cross between a dorm and hospital room. With no Internet to connect with what was happening in the world, and basically in the middle of nowhere, and being tired of computer chess, and being that it was the siesta, and being tired as hell, I decided to use the hour and a half we had after checking in until leaving for the venue to take a nap. As soon as I put my head down on the pillow one of our more diligent band members decided to use this time to practice. With walls the thickness of a wedding invitation, sleep was impossible. So I decided to use this opportunity to assess the contents of my suitcase. I don’t know why I pack so much. I never unpack in hotels (who does) and rarely venture past the first couple layers to see what else I have in there. Besides, there are no irons on the room, so just about everything is wrinkled beyond use. Then the practicing stopped. I quickly abandoned my explorations, and jumped back in the bed. Too late - the practicer had already fallen asleep (couldn’t have been more than a minute) and the decibel level of his prodigious snoring rivaled that of the instrument he had been playing. E la vita.

I write all this from the train which is zipping up the Mediterranean. Next stop: Atina

Tour de France, Spain and Italy

Tue, 12 Jul 2011 13:01:46 +0000

We are now one week into our second leg of this six-week tour. I am writing this in the Madrid airport as we wait to board our plane to Niza (Nice). The economy is really hurting here in Spain, but it’s great to see people coming out to our concerts. Hopefully, we are lifting their spirits a little, helping them to take their minds off hard times, if only for a couple hours.

With the exception of our performance in Valencia, all our concerts are outdoors, which means sound checks in the blazing sun, reeds drying out, hot brass in your hands, expanding bass strings, trouble hearing each other on stage, battles with intonation. But somehow we get it together. Perhaps because of these obstacles we try a little harder, and the end result is some pretty swinging sh**!

Our programming has been interesting, a kind of toggle between old and new, historic and contemporary. We will play a movement from Wynton’s Vitoria Suite, and then follow with Snake Rag from the 20s, and it doesn’t feel strange. While I tend to favor the more modern pieces in our repertoire, I get so much enjoyment hearing the band play these classics with both respect and modern breath.

It seems that whenever we come to Spain it is festival time, which also means the running of the bulls in Pamplona. When you come down to breakfast in the morning the hotel invariably has the TV on to some news channel, and it’s the same image you have seen year after year - narrow European streets filled with people, some more brave (stupid?) than others, making sharp turns, opening up into longer stretches where the bulls gather speed, people grabbing the horns and running along as long as possible, until literally diving to the side to avoid getting trampled by the bulls right behind them. Then the news program will change stories and you will be watching an update of the Tour de France. Something with a completely different energy, but sharing a similar sense of urgency. I have an idea - why not combine the two sports? Have the bulls chasing the bikes through the streets. “Toro de France,” perhaps?

Gotta get on a plane...

Loss of Innocence

Thu, 30 Jun 2011 16:28:36 +0000

A couple days ago I was in Vancouver, a beautiful city. Had a great concert (with the JLCO), and a very nice hang at the jam session, where I met some interesting people, and reconnected with an ex-student of mine, Mike Allen. He sounds great as usual.

The last time we played here was two years ago. I remember having a day off and renting a bike. I drove the loop which circumnavigates Stanley Park - breathtaking views of mountains, ocean and skyline at the same time. I was looking forward to experiencing this again, but it rained. So I stayed in my room. I remembered something I wrote just after this bike ride and dug it up on my computer. I changed a few words, but this is essentially what I wrote that day:

The loss of innocence happens over time. It is not the result of a single act - the first time one discovers his body, or the loss of virginity. It is not the first lie told, or the the first time death is experienced, either up close, or on television.

The loss of innocence happens over time. It happens when we limit ourselves, limit what we think we can do, limit who we think we are. Give up on things. I feel the loss of innocence when I look at the world we are in. Yes, I see the obvious ways, like the focus on sex in our movies and magazine ads, the priority in acquiring money and material things. But it’s also how people stop asking questions, wondering; how people accept something far less than what they want, who they are. This is true loss.

I feel sad at what I see at times, not so much at the individual acts that people equate with this loss, but in the collective sense, the growing feeling that I would like to go back to something that I was, or never was. Like I skipped over a time that was part of who I am, but never truly experienced.

When I rode my bike yesterday, I saw nature - mountains, water, birds. They have seen much, but seem untouched by the loss. Even the people walking their dogs, laughing, taking each other’s pictures, seem at times unaware of the loss. Or perhaps they are ignoring it. But at some point they must feel it. The mountains showed me something: that despite what you see around you, you must remain yourself; not ungrowing or unchanging (as you must to survive, to adapt) but standing firm in the face of the changes going on around you, and become a stronger version of yourself.

I see my daughters come of age in this world, and see their own loss of innocence. Again, not in individual acts, but in their understanding a sense of what is going on out there, what they see around them. I suddenly feel sad that I have not lived with them these past 12 years. Like I missed something.

With love I see an opportunity to come back to something. Through love we can find a deeper sense of ourselves. Sometimes I want to run away from everything but this love. I want to move into it, like a new home, and decorate it with joy and pain and growth and yearnings. Architectural Digest would do a spread and people would see the most beautiful palace. They would also want to forget everything and move into their own new homes, and decorate it with the feelings they have forgotten about, passions they were afraid to embrace. Then the gardens would be tended with this same fervor, and neighbors would see colorful flower beds, and fruit trees.

Reunions, Week 2

Sat, 25 Jun 2011 15:10:41 +0000

The connections continue, old and new, during this second week on the road. In San Francisco I got to see my daughter Emily, a student at San Francisco Sate. Last time I saw here was in February when we played at Disney Hall. (Here’s a shot of Emily hanging backstage with Lawrence Fishburn, just before we ran over to the Grammy Awards.) Emily took time out from studying

for her finals to come to our concert at Davies Hall presented by SF Jazz, and said she really loved it, which means much more to me than a good review in the Times. (Speaking of reviews, If you want a good laugh, check out this review/blog in the SF Weekly). In the greenroom hang after the concert a very distinguished man, clean in his gray suit and sunglasses, told me he loved the concert and that he plays the sax, too. Oh, cool, what’s your name. John Handy...

The next day the band did a run out to Santa Cruz, playing a concert produced by our friend Tim Jackson, who is always doing great things. I had a missed opportunity to reunite with my friend Daniel Robin, who not only played baritone in my high school jazz band, but lent me his horn for my appearance in The Exorcist II: The Heretic. I used it in a scene with Linda Blair (I’m not making this up). Daniel had his own gig that night (speaking not playing) and arrived at our concert just in time to see the bus pull away. I guess that connection will have to wait until next time.

Los Angeles. What can I say - my hometown. My Father (trombonist Dick Nash) picked me up at the airport. Always great to have family waiting for you when you get off a plane. After catching up with him for a bit at the house (where I grew up) I had dinner with Scott Jacobson, whom I hadn’t seen

since I was 19. He was a great clarinetist, and we used to perform in all-city bands together, and play lots of duets. Lots of ‘em. He stopped playing at some point, and become an entrepreneur, starting a VERY lucrative business with his brother, of a nature that I will refrain from describing here (oh, no...totally legal). Later, when I checked into Roosevelt Hotel, I saw a man walk into the lobby that looked like he OWNED the place, with his pale blue sport jacket, hat and sunglasses, and his confident stride. As he got a little closer I saw that it was none other than saxophonist Joe Lovano who was to be our guest at the Hollywood Bowl, playing tribute to the great James Moody.

The next day we played the Bowl. In attendance were not only my Father and our family friend Shelley Balloon (who I’ve known for almost 40 years), but gourmet spice man Mark Sleeper, who is a producer on a film called Luke Jacobs, P.I. (based on the novels by Ken Mask) for which I am writing a score; choreographer Sheron Wray (check out her Tedx program; Petra and her friend Philip, who I met with Ivette on a cruise three years ago; ten high school friends I haven’t seen in years, who came as a big group, and practically malled me after, in a nice way (local boy does good); and actor James Spader, who was very enthusiastic about the concert, and about saying hello, despite the fact that I called him David...

Later that night some of the aforementioned, and a few guys from the band, attended Winnie and Arthur’s soiree at Cafe WAS, where their teenage son Harry was tearing it up on trumpet with his cronies at the organized jam session. A few hors d’oeuvres, a little red wine. Nice. When we got back to the hotel, Susan John, director of touring for JALC, talked me into sneaking into the club in the hotel, Beach’s Madhouse, where some very decadent, fellini-esque partying was going down, replete with a transvestite Dwarf, someone dressed as a penis, and the queen of socialites (I won’t say who it was but her first name is a city in France, and he last name is a hotel. No it’s not Marseilles Marriott). Check out some of the video we grabbed surreptitiously.

The next day was free, and I drove down to Costa Mesa to spend time with my daughter Lisa who is finishing up studies at The Academy of TV and Radio Broadcasting. She a had a little time off between her gig at TK Burger and her evening class. By the way, she is a great singer - check out this recording she made on her laptop.

Visits to the West Coast can be exhausting. I am sitting on a plane now, heading to small town in Washington State, and I am looking forward to not knowing anybody...

A Week of Reunions

Sun, 19 Jun 2011 22:07:30 +0000

Being on the road often provides a chance to reconnect with old friends, family, musicians we haven’t seen in a while. A little over a week into this six week tour, and already I have reunited with several people I haven’t seen since I was a teenager. That’s a long time ago...

First stop was Greensboro, NC, and Branford Marsalis was in the audience. He lives and teachers near there, and brought some of his students to come check out the band. It’s always inspiring to know that someone who understands this music at a deep level is really checking you out. Branford is very down to earth and straight up, and it is always great to see him. This was a nice first concert - tight and swinging - setting the tone for the next weeks, which will take us all over the States, Canada, and Europe.

Next up was Ravinia, outside of Chicago, where we can always count on a visit by Wynton’s friend, TP, and his sons Anthony and Branford, both musicians. Besides being very cool, TP has the biggest hands
I have ever seen.

Third stop was Winnipeg, the home of our bassist friend Steve Kirby, who runs the jazz department at the University of Manitoba. The night we arrived we had off, and Steve hosted a big reception/jam session, which featured Jimmy Greene and Derrick Gardner as well as some younger musicians playing at a very high level. I ran into the classical pianist Judy Kehler Siebert, who hooked up a bassoon lesson for me with the teacher at the University, Allen Harrington (yes - don’t tell anybody, but I am teaching myself how to play the bassoon. No idea why...).

The next day was Carlos Henriquez’s birthday, and needless to say we had a great hang in the hotel bar after the concert.

Swinging back into the States we hit the West Coast. Portland was the first stop on this leg of the tour, and the first night was off, so I headed to Jimmy Mak’s, the most prominent jazz club there, and ran into our trombonist Vincent Gardner, sitting alone at a table, his trombone at his side. Drummer/band leader Mel Brown introduced the band as they were about to take a break, and I heard a name I hadn’t heard in years, Ed Bennett. Could it be, is it possible this was the guy I jammed with in L.A. when I was 16? Sure enough it was he, and we spent the break catching up. During the next set, Vince sit in and tore it up.

The next night, before the concert, I had dinner with my childhood friend Steven Drew who I hadn’t seen since I was a teenager. He and his wife Kathleen drove down from Seattle to see the concert. Lots of catching up there. One memory we recalled was the pyromaniac stage we went through when we were something like 11, making smoke bombs, and setting fire to what ever we could get our hands on, my dad chasing us around the backyard, yelling at us while stomping out our efforts.

In the Portland audience was the great bassist and arranger Chuck Isreals, with whom I played when I first moved to New York. I joined his National Jazz Ensemble (really a precursor to the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra) when I was 19 and got to play with Tom Harrell, Jimmy Knepper, John Scofield, Sal Nestico, Bob Mintzer, Junior Cook and Bill Hardman. In fact, this is where I first met Joe Temperly. Knowing Chuck and his wife Margot were in the audience (and because we love playing it) we performed Chuck’s imaginative arrangement of Monk’s Four in One.

Next stop - Grass Valley. This is where my daughters Emily and Lisa grew up. I traveled to this old mining town, the center of the gold rush of the late 1840s, several times a year to spend time with them, and fell in love with this place. Set in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, Grass Valley (and it’s sister town Nevada City) is rather an enigma. Located half way between Sacramento and Reno, this community is a mix of Silicon Valley retirees, hippies out on the “Ridge” still living the 60s, families, red necks, artists and business owners. Although largely conservative politically (it also has the distinction of being the whitest county per capita in California), it has a strong artistic element. It’s just a little too far off the beaten path to get a lot of traveling groups like ours, and you can certainly tell by the enthusiasm of the audience that they are a bit starved. Without questions this has been one of the most appreciative audiences I have every played for. The last time Wynton and I played here was ten years ago, when I was artistic director of the first (and last) Nevada County Jazz festival. The reason it didn’t continue wasn’t because of lack of interest (we sold out both nights), but because of some political/power struggles between the arts council groups. Julie Baker, who used to own an art gallery in Grass Valley, became director of the Center of the Arts in Grass Valley two years ago and has been trying ever since to get us there. The stars finally aligned, and we had a great concert, and wonderful reunion with many friends.

Last night we played in Sacramento. Cynthia Poindexter, who I haven’t seen since I was 17 or 18, drove 100 miles from Lake Tahoe to see the concert, and reconnect with me. I used to play with her late husband, Rick Poindexter, in Los Angeles when I was a teenager, and Cynthia worked in the coffee shop, Ryan’s, where my friends and I would meet up at midnight after whatever we were doing. My song “Always Open,” on my first record Conception was written for this diner.

I think I’ve written enough. To be continued...

The Eloquent Benny Golson

Sun, 12 Jun 2011 23:42:42 +0000

I received a beautiful note (through my contact at Rico Reeds, Kristen McKeon) from Benny Golson when he learned of my uncle’s passing. His sentiment touched me deeply.

First, let me give you a little background: I had the good fortune of meeting Benny Golson when I was 17. He was a guest soloist with the Monterey All-State High School Band. I was playing lead alto. Great band, and one of my most important formative experiences. Some of the other students who were in the band during the three years I was involved were Eric Marienthal, Dan Wilensly, Steve Bernstein, Joe Alessi, Randy Kerber, Larry Lunetta, Larry Koonse, and Chad Wackerman. We performed at the Monterey Jazz Festival and had guests that, in addition to Mr. Golson, included Clark Terry, Chuck Mangione, Pat Williams, and George Duke.

When we finished the concert, on a hot Sunday afternoon in late September, Benny ran into my father back stage, trombonist Dick Nash (they had worked together in the studios in LA). Benny expressed an interest in producing me. This story probably deserves a longer telling, but for now, to keep it short...a few weeks later, sitting at a large conference table in his studio at A & M, he and his business partner (suit and cigar) offered me a five-record deal. I think I was overwhelmed (and perhaps not ready) and after a few days thinking it over, chose not to accept the offer.

Anyway, in recent years I have worked with Benny a couple times - with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, and when I was directing the Juilliard Jazz Orchestra - and he always impressed me with his beautiful playing and writing, and his great attitude and youthful energy.

When he learned of my Uncle Ted’s passing he wrote a beautiful e-mail that brought warmth to my soul and tears to my eyes. A short correspondence followed, and I asked Benny permission to reproduce it here, on my blog.
Here it is:

Kristen,

I would appreciate it so much if you could somehow get my message which follows to Ted Nash who is being advertised as using RICO reed.

I chose Ted many years ago as the winner in his teenage category and he went on to never disappoint me in his ability to move ahead undauntedly armed with his tremendous talent which has now come into full bloom in a wonderful array of myriad expressive ways.

I would greatly appreciate your doing this for me as I don't know how.

Thank you so much, as you yourself continue to move ahead remaining in tandem with immutable time.

Benny Golson

Ted,

I was totally devastated to learn of your uncle Ted's passing. Somehow we mortals intuitively see forever in those we care about. Your words and memories of him touch the deep grotto of love and appreciation that reaches across the irresistible expanse of corrosive time and its effect on humankind.

John (Coltrane) and I started out together in Philadelphia as mere amateurs as we were mesmerized by your uncle's beautiful sound and superiority of the altisimo range of his saxophone. For years he was a goal so many of us sought. He was completely unique in his talent in that the things not only left the bowels of his saxophone striking the medium of the air and ears, but hearts as well, not always a common practice everyone is capable of.

My heart hangs quite low because of the passing of this iconic musician, who must have likewise been a similar person. Be assured, he has now, and long since, taken up residence in our memories vividly recalling to mind a wonderful and enlightening time in his and our lives when he made our hearts 'sing' along with his.

Bless him and bless you as you continue your own 'journey' on the same path we find his footprints we follow ... if we can.

Unremittingly continue giving the future with its indistinguishable face, a face of your own creative making. Your uncle and your father have done this. So, Noblesse Oblige ... and onward and upward!

Benny Golson

Hi Benny,
Wow, what a beautiful e-mail. So great to be let into your thoughts and feelings about my Uncle. Thank you for that.

The day before Ted passed I was at rehearsal with Wynton and the big band, and I know Uncle Ted's time was VERY limited, having talked with him the day before. I had the music librarian pull out Leap Frog, and we got Ted on the phone and played this piece that he recorded with Les Brown for him live. He wasn't able to talk but his caretaker said he was nodding his head and indicating with his eyes that it sounded good. He passed the next day.

He was a big influence on me, not when I was younger - when I was checking out the heavyweights, like Bird, Sonny, Benny Golson - but later when I was in my late 20s. That is kind of when I really "discovered" his playing. On my last CD - the Mancini Project - I pay tribute not only to Hank, but to my Uncle and Father. On Dreamsville I played the bridge as close to the way my Uncle played it on the original recording.

I really appreciate the belief you had in me when I was a teenager, when you brought me in to your office and offered to produce me. Not sure what happened exactly, whey we didn't end up working together, but I am sure it had something to do with my being young and foolish... :-).

Thank you again, Benny, for your thoughtful words. Would you mind if I used some or all of it in my blog?

Hope to see you soon!
Best, Ted

Ted,

You've come a million creative miles since your teenage years. I heard great potential even in those young years. After meeting you, I used your father a lot, especially at Paramount. He's a real pro whom I depended on a great deal even if he wasn't aware of it. Your uncle was great, but, then, so was and is your dad. I know he remembers those days of 'grinding it out.'

Feel free to use all or any part of my rhetoric because it's all true ... absolutely TRUE.

I must tell you, Ted, I'm so proud of you. A few months ago when I introduced Johnny Mandel at Lincoln Center, I heard your big band writing for the band and the originality of your capacious mind and was knocked out! You've not only never let me down, but layed a few surprises on me.

You've made time your confederate and are in tandem with it, defying its dark side with the bright light of your talent.

Do continue to move ahead with great thrust as in the case of a bullet when it leaves the muzzle. I will expect nothing less; you've parlayed your potential (that which existed in possibility) into extant reality as the past overtook the present and assumed the role of the future. You're dead on it, Ted.

Do let me hear from you. We just arrived at our place here in Germany and will be here until late November when we play Bangkok then head back to 'The City.'

Onward and upward,

Benny

Puerto Rico

Tue, 07 Jun 2011 01:06:08 +0000

I brought my quintet to Puerto Rico on Friday to play the Heineken Jazz Festival. The musicians - Marcus Printup (tpt), Dan Nimmer (pno), Carlos Henriquez (bass), and Ali Jackson (drms) - really put their hearts and souls into the music. We opened for Ramsey Lewis and Stanley Clarke’s bands, performing the quintet version of my long-from composition Portrait in Seven Shades (originally written for the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra). I like this smaller version just as much as the big band arrangement. I kept most of the textures and colors of the original, but rearranged it for this instrumentation, which was a challenge, and particularly tricky on Picasso. The cats rose to the occasionally by nailing some very technically challenging passages.

It was pouring rain, but that didn’t stop some very dedicated jazz fans from sitting in the drenched seats in this completely outdoor venue. The view from the stage was a sea of different colored umbrellas, which would shake like laughing marionettes when people applauded, one of their two clapping hands simultaneously engaged in gripping the umbrella’s base.

I did something on this concert I have never done before: sing in public (except perhaps for Happy Birthday, and some Christmas carols). The lyrics I wrote for Van Gogh (beautifully sung by Vincent Gardner on the recording by the JLCO) could not be ignored, run from, stashed away in some filing cabinet. Telling Van Gogh’s story with words was the whole point of that movement. Anyway, no one threw any mangos, cañas (sugar cane) or guavas at me, so I guess it was okay.

I was feeling a little disappointed that the weather was less than ideal, but we were lucky we got to play at all - the following day, the third night of the festival, the performance was canceled due to flooding.

My manager, Ileana Palmieri, who spent much of her childhood in Puerto Rico, new the exact spot to take us for lunch: a rather nondescript hole-in-the-wall, famous for their authentic, down-home dishes. I had mofongo, and of course rice and beans.

Our flight back was quite eventful: an hour into our flight an infant became ill and we had to return to San Juan. After refueling we were back in the air, but about three hours behind schedule. A couple hours later, an hour outside of JFK, a passenger in my row had an epileptic seizure. One of those days...

Here are a couple articles - one a preview piece (in Spanish), and the other a review (English) of the concert. Check ‘em out!
http://www.elnuevodia.com/lavidaenclavedejazz-980369.html
http://guitarinternational.com/2011/06/04/puerto-rico-heineken-jazzfest-2011-day-2/

Chaography: Movie Shoot, Part II

Sun, 05 Jun 2011 14:02:34 +0000

We finished filming this segment of Douglas Chang’s inventive film, Chaography, a couple days ago, and I feel like I am STILL trying to catch up on sleep, recharging the batteries. Taking a 6:45 AM flight to Puerto Rico yesterday didn’t help (more about this later).

The last day of shooting took place at the Zinc Bar, and dealt with what the film is really all about - jazz. Marcus Printup, Paul Sikivie and Ulysses Owns joined me to create a piano-less quartet that was free and swinging, just as I had hoped and expected. The music, which I composed to suggest Ornette Coleman of the early 60s, was recorded as we filmed (the director of photography assured me this term was still acceptable, despite being shot in HD video). The music will also serve as the soundtrack, and later be released on CD. It was great having an audience, even if they were all “extras.”

I really enjoyed playing with this quartet. We hadn’t played together before, and although it was put together for the film, I think it has real potential as a performing band. In fact, I am working on a couple bookings...

Though we rushed to get all the performance shots down on tape (visually and aurally), we still ran out of time, and at 5:00 we were kicked out of the club without completely finishing the shoot. Many of the actors who were hired to be in specific shots, had waited in vane, (although they did get a free concert - even if they did have to hear us play one song about 13 times...).

Taking advantage of still having daylight outside, and in need of a few street scenes, I quickly changed clothes and headed around the corner with a skeletal crew to grab a couple shots we were supposed to get on a previous day. One involved my absentmindedly walking into a crosswalk, almost getting hit by a car. You think we had a hired a professional car and driver? A stunt double? Think again. With all the variables - traffic lights changing, cars at different speeds, pedestrians getting in the way, way did it about 30 times before getting one that worked.

And with that final shot in the can, we were done. Before the director could finish the phrase “It’s a wrap,” I was sitting in the closest bar having an IPA.

I really believe in this project. Douglas Chang has a vision, and has a great crew, and wonderful actors. One of the standouts in the cast was Melvin Van Peebles, playing a hobo. Ivette Dumeng, who not only played my wife in the film, was also amazing helping in the production, anticipating Mr. Chang’s needs before he did. She was invaluable. Doug’s shooting team - Tina (camera), Jane (sound) and Tom (everything else) - was fantastic.

For more information about Chaography, please visit:
http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=35606
http://www.passionplayprojections.com/chaography.html

Chaography: Movie Shoot, Part I

Mon, 30 May 2011 19:05:10 +0000

You think being a film actor is a glamorous job? Think again. I have been shooting a film the past three days, and I am beat up. No, I mean literally! I have a scrape on the left side of my nose, a shiner on my right cheek, and my legs feel like I’ve run a marathon with no training. And on top of that I got slapped at least a dozen times. No - it isn’t an action film; not a karate movie. It’s a story about five jazz musicians based loosely on Monk, Trane, Miles, Mingus and Ornette. I am playing the Ornette character (use your imagination a little...). The writer/director, Douglas Chang, wrote this quirky, clever script based on the scene that took place in and around the Jazz Gallery in the 1960s. His father, who was the bartender there, got to know these jazz musicians - their music and their personal stories.

The script is broken up into five separate vignettes that intertwine slightly. The through line is the club and a few of the regulars, and of course the music! Although the part I am involved with is fourth in the script, we are shooting it first, and even though it seems to be going smoothly, it hasn’t been with out a few surprises. I’ll leave the details of the story (and reasons I have suffered a few minor injuries) for when you go see the film!

We continue shooting tomorrow, focusing on all the club scenes, and in particular playing and recording the music. I wrote three original compositions that are inspired by Ornette. My quartet, based on Ornette’s group form the early 60’s, features Marcus Printup on trumpet, Paul Sikivie on bass and Ulysses Owens on drums. I am assuming this shoot will be less injurious...

Other musicians playing lead roles in the film include Eric Reed and Stacy Dillard.

Jam for Charity

Sat, 28 May 2011 15:55:10 +0000

I had a nice gig with Peter Bernstein and Paul Sikivie the other night. It’s strange, but in all these years Peter and I have never really played together. I have wanted to for a long time, and it finally came together at 181 Cabrini, a local bar/restaurant/cafe where I often run into Pete, a neighbor on 181st street, getting coffee in the morning (better than Starbucks!). We have, in this pursuit of caffeine, and in support of a local business, run into each other many times, and in the process have gotten to know the owner, James, an offhand, but cool proprietor of this popular neighborhood spot.

Although 181 Cabrini did have a regular Monday live jazz night for a while, featuring some great young players - Roxy Coss, Kate Miller and Shawn Baltazor - it never really seemed like a jazz club, perhaps because of the way the band was crowded into a tight spot next to the bar, where it seemed many of the regulars regarded the music as competition to their storytelling.

It felt like a jazz club the other night! The gig with Peter and Paul was first in what we hope will be a series to raise money for different causes: Jam for Charity. This first one was to benefit PS 187, a local public school that has suffered many cutbacks, losing teachers and programs.

We set the trio up in the back room (not next to the bar!) and started playing tunes. It felt like magic at times, the way the we all felt so relaxed and allowed the music to find twists and turns - had us all smiling. The crowd was a mix of locals and those who traveled uptown. Great vibe.

For the second set suddenly the place was filled with musicians, some with their horns, like Eddie Barbash, James Zeller, and Bruce Harris who came up to make their “donation” to the cause. Others, without instruments, like Aaron Diehl and Jonathan Batiste and Tobias Gebb, donated their good vibes to the cause.

Looking forward to the next one!

Goodbye Uncle Ted

Sun, 15 May 2011 22:47:49 +0000

My Uncle Ted passed away on Thursday, May 12th. Who was my Uncle Ted? Ted Nash (my namesake) was one of the greatest saxophonist to appear on the scene during the swing band era, a mainstay star soloist in the Les Brown band in the late 1940s.

He loved playing and learning and in his early years always searched out opportunities to be where the action was, where serious playing was happening. After a gig with the “Milkshake Band,” as the Les Brown Band was affectionately known, he would head to the clubs where greats like Bird, Lester Young, and Lionel Hampton were playing late sets, and sit in. During this period he became quite well known as a soloist, finishing 4th in the Downbeat Critics Poll on tenor sax (right behind Lester Young).

He was also known for his use of the altissimo register (something rarely dealt with at that time). In 1949 he wrote a book called High Harmonics for the Saxophone, a book that is still available today. In fact a lot of people think it’s my book (wish I could take credit for it!). Even with his success as a jazz player, he had set his sights on the blossoming Los Angeles studio scene, and settled there shortly after his stint with Les Brown. He had a remarkable career doing TV, film and records - he was on just about every Henry Mancini soundtrack made from the 50s to the 8Os. Frank Sinatra in an interview said Ted Nash was his favorite saxophone player. In fact, Sinatra would hire him to put together a quartet to play parties at his house, with guests like Humphrey Bogart and Judy Garland, who would always end up sitting in with the group.

By the 1980s, disillusioned with the change in the quality of the commercial music scene, my uncle retired quite young (in his 60s) and enjoyed his retirement playing tennis, spending time with his wife and walking on the beach in front of his beautiful house in Carmel, California.

Five years ago, in the midst of writing a book, a memoir of his musical journey, he suffered a stroke which seriously curtailed his ability to finish the last chapters. I flew out from New York several times to work with him on the book, now finished. It is an interesting, often humorous account of a life rich with musical and personal experiences. All we need is a publisher...

Although his settling into the studios largely removed him from the public eye, I always run into people asking about him, expressing how much he has inspired them. On my recent release, “The Mancini Project,” I pay homage to Uncle Ted (and my father Dick Nash) in many ways, but in particular by playing his interpretation of the bridge on Dreamsville using the same augmentation, expression and phrasing. Of course, I didn’t sound like him - that would be impossible - but it sure felt good trying!

I will be writing a more in depth article about Ted Nash, which will appear here and in All About Jazz by the end of the month.

Nursery Rhymes and Thelonious Monk

Thu, 12 May 2011 02:53:34 +0000

I just finished two long days in the studio with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, recording a couple of the projects we all felt so strongly about at the time we performed them live. The first one is Nursery Rhyme Swing, which includes such perennial favorites as Itsy Bitsy Spider, It’s Not Easy Being Green (made famous by the amphibian crooner Kermit the Frog), Pop Goes the Weasel, and Old MacDonald Had a Farm. I know - it sounds corny. But when you hear the arrangements (all done by cats in the band), corny won’t even be an option on the list of possible adjectives to describe it.

The next project, one that is probably more typical of a big band recording project, but no less original in it’s outcome, is the Music of Monk, featuring Marcus “J-Master” Roberts. Some pretty challenging stuff, particularly Vincent Gardner’s atmospheric intro on Light Blue, and the angular bebop line on Skippy (which I spread out over four octaves - piccolo, flute, tenor, and bass clarinet), and Wynton’s deceptably difficult, but hauntingly beautiful arrangement of Ugly Beauty featuring the saxophone section.

I’ve never played with a band that had such a collection of soloists AND writers. I see the direction of this band continually expanding, absorbing the depth of the great history of jazz, but putting it in a context that is quite now.

Mark Soskin Group at Kitano

Thu, 28 Apr 2011 21:13:50 +0000

Last weekend’s gig at Kitano with pianist Mark Soskin’s quartet (Jay Anderson on bass, Matt Wilson on drums) covered a lot of creative ground. The cats played their behinds off, and of course Kitano’s manager Gino, and the whole staff, welcomed us warmly into their jazz living room. Playing here reminds me a little of the jam sessions that took place in my family’s home when I was growing up - the audience is very close, and really engaged. Even if you don’t know many of the people out there, it still feels like a bunch of friends.

This club is a bit unusual in that it is situated on the second floor of an upscale Park Avenue hotel, an open-plan room overlooking the lobby below. The band is always acoustic, which makes for a very intimate and warm experience for the audience.

Mark’s choice of music - from obscure standards to his own harmonically rich originals - was challenging, yet natural and balanced. I love playing with Mark, Jay and Matt. I have played with each of them many times in different settings, but never together as a quartet. It felt comfortable and warm, like slipping back into the bathtub after getting out to answer the phone.
You can check out a short video here.

Scranton: New Music, Fresh Sounds

Sat, 16 Apr 2011 23:28:36 +0000

The past couple days I have been rehearsing/conducting the Scranton University Concert Band and Choir, getting ready for the concert tonight, the premier of two commissioned pieces for these ensembles, which are made up entirely of non-music majors. There’s something about people who come to play because they love to, not because they have to. No school credit, rehearsals at night. Maybe they’re there because they love to experience director Cheryl Boga’s very soulful style, complete with passionate outbursts, humorous analogies, and language you wouldn’t find in a Disney movie. Maybe they're there to take their minds off school work. Or maybe they’re there because they just love to play. That’s certainly the feeling I get hearing them tackle some pretty challenging stuff.

These pieces are my first for either concert band of vocal choir, and I had to learn a lot about writing for the percussion section. I got some nice pointers from Erik Charleston and Ali Jackson (thanks, Cats!). Also, Ivette Dumeng wrote a beautiful, romantic poem (which I adapted to use for the lyrics on the choir piece) that has the singers melting.

Good time at the Savannah Music Festival

Sun, 03 Apr 2011 20:56:01 +0000

Departing Savannah this morning after four densely-filled days, I shared a ride to the airport with a man named Craig, 60ish, with an unplaceable European accent, who described his recital last night at the Festival as taking place in a beautiful art museum. He said the space was packed with listeners, and he was surrounded by sergeants. I asked why armed guards were necessary at a classical recital, and he corrected me: he meant Sargent, the painter.

The Savannah Music Festival is an amazing event, passionately run by Rob Gibson, former executive director of Jazz at Lincoln Center, who manages to find ways to involve his favorite musicians in a variety of settings, year after year. I am fortunate to be on this list, and have played the Festival in the past as conductor and performer with Police drummer Stewart Copeland, with my eclectic group Odeon, as clinician with the Swing Central high school band competition, with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, and this year as music director and performer with “Downtown Uproar,” a presentation of Duke Ellington early music. On this concert I got to play with some of my favorite musicians on the scene. The lineup included John and Jeff Clayton, Dave Stryker, Wycliffe Gordon, Marcus Printup, Marcus Roberts, Gerald Clayton, Bill Kennedy, Terell Stafford, Rodney Whitaker, Jason, Marsalis, Jack Wilkins, Jim Ketch, Leon Anderson, Paul Mckee, Slide Hampton, Rodney Jordan, Kevin Bales, Bill Petterson, Ron Westray, Obed Calvaire, and Joe Temperly.

Somewhat last-minute I was added to a concert with Chico Pinheiro, the Brazilian guitarist and composer. Robert Sadin was conducting a set of pieces that was a beautiful synthesis of classical and modern Brazilian music. Chico is a great composer and player, and is also a very nice guy! The second set last night was Dianne Reeves. Many vocalists talk about their “instrument,” but Dianne is one of the few who really owns one! She’s got a cute new hairstyle, too...

Dialogue with Slide Hampton

Fri, 01 Apr 2011 18:37:34 +0000

I had the great experience of doing a “Sound Dialogue” with Slide Hampton yesterday at the Savannah Music Festival. It was an informal chat in front of a small audience. I was sort of the interviewer and he the interviewee. Slide was charming as ever, and talked about growing up in Indianapolis, moving to New York, and all the great musicians he played with and wrote for.
It’s great to be down here, as always. I am directing “Downtown Uproar,” a program of Duke Ellington music that is being performed tonight at the festival - the closing concert of their Swing Central high school band competition. I am surrounded by great musicians and some of my favorite people. For more information about the concert: http://www.savannahmusicfestival.org/2011/downtown-uproar-duke-ellingtons-small-band-classicsswing-central-finale.php

Playing with my father, and other gifts...

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 21:20:56 +0000

Had an amazing weekend leading the Jazz for Young People program at Rose Hall. The theme of the program was “What is the Big Band Era?” And with the help of the JLCO and special guests - my father Dick Nash, vocalist Charanee Wade, and Lindy Hoppers Roddy Caravella and Eden Atencio - we definitely answered that question.
There were so many special connections yesterday. First, my cousin Lisa (Ted Nash’s daughter) came from Massachusetts and brought her adorable daughter Keana. So happens that Ted Nash (my Uncle) was mentioned in the program, in connection with Leap Frog, a hit from Ted’s days with Les Brown. After the second show yesterday, I got into a passionate discussion with Billy Banks, our ever-enthusiastic, always positive, stage manager. We talked, and talked some more, about an idea to present a program at Rose with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, featuring music from the movies. My dad could come in and play some of those beautiful themes he played with Mancini, or Johnny Mandel, who could bring in his arrangements and conduct the orchestra.
Later that night, in the lobby of the Empire Hotel, on the way out after hanging out with my dad and a bunch of friends and family up in his room, we ran into - guess who...Johnny Mandel! He was just arriving from the airport. After spending about 40 minutes on the phone helping Johnny get his lost bag back, we got him to knock on my Dad’s door claiming to be delivering ice. What a beautiful reunion!

New Video uploaded

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 20:20:30 +0000

This is an excerpt from the 60 Minutes program, which, with such grace and heart, captured the Jazz at Lincoln Center's residency in Havana. The program in it's entirety can be seen here:
http://www.jalc.org/60minutes/
Also, I blogged about it here:
http://www.tednash.com/3/post/2010/10/et-tu-csar.html
http://www.tednash.com/3/post/2010/10/magic-moment.html
http://www.tednash.com/3/post/2010/10/old-havana.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQF-TCJXCK0&feature=channel_video_title

Japan relief

Sun, 20 Mar 2011 17:30:04 +0000

I recently used award points at my bank to send relief to Japan. If you have this type of program, you might see if this is a possibility for you. I never have used the points - could have gotten a magazine subscription, I suppose... But this was a much better "award!"

Disconnect to Connect

Fri, 18 Mar 2011 18:46:14 +0000

The other day, running errands around the city, I held the door open for at least 4 or 5 people who were so buried in their smart phones they didn’t notice or care that someone was waiting for them to get through the entrance before letting go of the door. This seems to have become the norm, a slide down from the usual grunts of acknowledgment or largely inaudible “thank you”s muttered under their breath.
Someone sent me this link to a commercial I think everyone should watch. It gets a little corny at the end (music!) but the sentiment is right on.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ae0tzVo8Fw

Let me know what you think.
Gotta get back on my iPhone...

Playing with Chick Corea

Wed, 26 Jan 2011 17:38:06 +0000

Last week was really inspiring - hearing and playing with Chick Corea. Always on of my heros. He was very open to the JALC and all the arrangements the we had brought to the project. I think seven guys wrote arrangements of his music, which mostly dipped into the history book: Matrix, Crystal Silence, Humpty Dumpty, You're Everything, Windows, Tones For Jones Bones, etc. He remarked that they felt fresh and new again! His playing was always engaged and engaging. I think there will be more to come with this relationship between he and the Jazz at Lincoln Center...

During a break on a rehearsal with Chick, he and I read through some of his "Children Songs." Chris Crenshaw caught a piece on his phone-video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRWwMuFlh8g

60 Minutes program available on line

Fri, 14 Jan 2011 18:47:00 +0000

If you did not get a chance to see the 60 Minutes program which aired January 2nd, you can now watch on line. Click the following link:

http://jalc.org/60minutes/

Enjoy!!

60 Minutes feature to air January 2nd

Thu, 30 Dec 2010 20:53:02 +0000

I am very excited about this. The TV program 60 Minutes covered Jazz at Lincoln Center on the road, and will air the first segment on January 2nd, at 7:00. Please tune in!
Here is an excerpt, posted on the CBS web site:

http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=7195007n&tag=related;photovideo

Some "Best of" articles

Wed, 29 Dec 2010 21:45:15 +0000

Here are some "Best of 2010" articles, which include Portrait in Seven Shades.

http://seynah.blogspot.com/2010/12/gene-seymours-top-10-jazz-discs-for.html

http://www.slate.com/id/2278083/

http://zikkir.com/et/61645

http://jazzsermon.com/top-ten-jazz-albums-of-2010/

Birthday

Wed, 29 Dec 2010 21:39:58 +0000

Had an amazing birthday last yesterday! Thanks to everyone who sent me wishes!

Saw a great play called Time Stands Still. I HIGHLY recommend this!

Also - saw Cyrus Chestnut with his group at Dizzy's. They were on fire!

Grammy Nomination - it's official

Tue, 07 Dec 2010 17:14:17 +0000

I am very excited to let you know "Monet" from "Portrait in Seven Shades" has been nominated for a Grammy, for best arrangement.

To listen to "Monet" (as well as the whole Suite) you can visit my Myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/tednash

Wynton Marsalis also received a nomination for his beautiful solo on "Van Gogh."

Check it out!

Grammy Nominations

Sun, 24 Oct 2010 20:15:00 +0000

I am very excited “Portrait in Seven Shades” that I co-led with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra is in several categories of this year’s Grammys.
If you are a Grammy voter, please consider the following. If you have not heard the recording you can do so at:
http://www.myspace.com/tednash
Thank you very much.
Best, Ted

Best Improvised Jazz Solo
Nathalie Bonin; Title: Chagall
Ryan Kisor; Title: Pollock
Wynton Marsalis; Title: Van Gogh
Ted Nash; Title: Dali
Marcus Printup; Title: Dali
Bill Schimmel; Title: Pollock

Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album
Artist: Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra;
Title: Portrait in Seven Shades

Composing/Arranging
Best Instrumental Composition
Title: Chagall
Title: Dali
Title: Matisse
Title: Monet
Title: Pollock
Title: Picasso

Best Instrumental Arrangement
Title: Chagall
Title: Dali
Title: Matisse
Title: Monet
Title: Picasso
Title: Pollock

Best Instrumental Arrangement Accompanying Vocalist
Title: Van Gogh

Production, non-classical
Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical
Saundra Palmer-Grassi, engineer

Producer Of The Year, Non-Classical
Frank Kimbrough, Ted Nash, Saundra Palmer-Grassi

Et Tu, César?

Sun, 10 Oct 2010 23:03:42 +0000

The response to our visit here in Cuba has been almost overwhelming. I didn’t realize how much the community, especially the young musicians, had been anticipating our visit here. Our activities have ranged from official to quite unofficial; from organized educational events to late night visits to rumba clubs; from televised concerts to playing in the street.

Last night I was invited to a theater called the Bertolt Brecht Cultural Center, named after the famous writer, who happened to be a communist. (Many of the important venues are named after supporters of this system.) My new friend, percussionist Mauricio, took me to the theater around midnight, and explained that one of Cuba’s great saxophonists, was performing. I grabbed my horn (you never know) and jumped in Maurcio’s well-used Fiat - unusual as most people are driving either a Lada (common Russian car) or a late 50s American monster held together by bungee cords and clothes hangers.

We arrived at the theater and I could immediately hear the wailing sounds of what was clearly a great alto saxophonist. It was César Lopez, who used to play with Irakere, a famous group with Chucho Valdez, Paquito d'Rivera, etc. We were immediately ushered to a section to the back of the of the club, near the stage, and low and behold sitting there with their horns out, and light beads of sweat on their brows, were my band-mates Sherman Irby, Vincent Gardner and Victor Goines. Sherman had been telling me about César player for some but I had never checked him out.

Before I had a chance to sit down and order a mohito, César was wrapped around me with his arms, embracing my appearance at his gig and giving me the kind of love that Cubans have showed so much on this trip. Next thing I knew I was on stage with him playing a funk/fusion version Caravan, my reed barely wet enough to produce an adequate sound. It didn't stop me from giving it all I had. The audience would occasionally break into big cheers at a particularly elevated section of what was happening on stage. Then César had all of us on stage together playing the song Sonny. The way he could engage the audience, make us feel welcome, and continually play his ass off was a marvel. No fear. All love. I realize that so many musician, myself included, just don’t allow ourselves to be everything we are all the time.

Old Havana

Fri, 08 Oct 2010 22:42:27 +0000

After rehearsal today, going over some of the music for tonight’s concert, our first here in Cuba, Victor Goines and I jumped in a taxi and headed to Old Havana, something we both have been wanting to do since arriving here. After walking around a bit, and looking unsuccessfully for the spot it was well-known that Ernest Hemmingway hung out at, we sat down for lunch at a place called the Havana Club Bar. Havana Club is the most popular maker of Rum, the national drink here. We ordered appetizers and fish, and two cervezas. The waitress quickly said “no cerveza, only rum here.” So we ordered mohitios. There was a Cuban band playing - guitar, flute, percussion, bass and a singer. They sounded great. Vic and I sipped our drinks and enjoyed the vibe, savoring the mushrooms cooked in, what else - rum.
At one point the flute player from band inquired where we were from, and when we answered “New York,” he asked if we were musicians. We said yes and the immediately asked if we were with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. We smiled. There were so excited. Vic and I ended up sitting in, jamming on Oye Como Va, and Summertime. The whole restaurant felt something happening. People came from the other room and stood in the doorway, smiling. When we had finished there were mucho handshakes and hugs all around. I handed back the man’s flute and Vic and I returned to the table to tear into our grilled fish (which was by far the best I had yet here in Cuba). The manager approached us, explaining that the Havana Club Bar was also a museum and would like to give us a free tour. They also took care of our lunch and drinks. Vic and I bought a round for the band, and went on the tour, which showed the whole process of making rum - the distillation, aging, packaging (and tasting!).It was actually pretty interesting. I know a lot about rum now (both intellectually and viscerally). In fact, I plan on getting to know a little more about the stuff during the rest of our stay here...
On the way out we stopped in the museum store and each purchased a bottle of their Barrel Proof, made by a process using older barrels. Special stuff. They also gave us each a bottle of their 7 year old. A beautiful gift.
The musicians had returned from their break and brought from home some CDs of important Cuban music. Vic and I bought a few and headed down the street, feeling good about the connection with the local people, the excellent food, and the rum. A warm glow, on two counts...
We found a small gallery, and we each bought a painting done by local artists. Mine was small, a street scene - very impressionistic. Vic got one done in a typically Cuban style - very colorful, almost cubist.
It was time to get back to the hotel and get ready for the gig, so we hopped in a tiny taxi, also known as a “coconut” because of it’s small, round shape. The motor in this thing couldn’t have been much bigger than the lawn mower I bought the other day at Home Depot.

First concert tonight...

Magic Moment in Cuba

Mon, 04 Oct 2010 14:44:55 +0000

I am in Havana with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. We are here for a week doing concerts and educational events.

Yesterday I had a great, great experience. One of those gems, a meant-to-be which has left me feeling a renewed. Night before last (our first day in Cuba) after hearing a well-known rhumba band at the Palicia Rhumba, some of the cats were hanging at the bar in the hotel. There was a duo playing, piano and sax. They sounded nice - not striating much, but playing very musically. between tunes I introduced myself and the woman playing sax invited me to sit in using her flute, and jumped in, playing two or three tunes. She told me she wanted to learn more about jazz (classically trained), and that her husband is a percussionist. I invited both of them to drop by the hotel the next day, if she wanted a lesson. She said she had a 2-year old baby. I said hey bring the baby.

The next morning they called and came by. Both such nice people, and very cute baby. They weren't allowed to come up to room (hotel policy - guests only) so a woman working with the hotel found a conference room that was no occupado. Mary Fiance Fuss, the press director with Jazz at Lincoln Center saw us heading up the escalator, with saxes in hand, ran up to me and asked what we were doing. I said were having a little lessen. The 60 Minutes film crew, who are here covering out visit to Cuba, just happen to be in the lobby, getting ready to shoot some local street stuff. So Morley Safer, David Browning the producer, and two cameramen along with Mary followed us up and shot the whole thing. The young woman’'s English wasn't that good, so her husband was translating, baby in arms. The girl had prepared a list of questions: how to growl, how to bend notes, how to get a sub tone, how to play high harmonics, how to get a sound that is jazzy and bluesy. We worked through all her questions, cameras capturing everything, Morley standing aside grinning.

At one point she was struggling to get the high A harmonic (a good starting point). I made suggestions for her embouchure and then all of a sudden she had the note clear and strong, and then I showed her a set of fingerings up to high D, and she did it perfectly. She couldn't believe it, and was laughing and so excited, her husband smiling, so happy for her, baby squirming to get down and run around. The husband told me everyone encourages her, tells her she has potential, but that she doesn't believe it herself. He looked at me and said that last night they were touched by God, at having met us, and having this experience. I of course got all teary-eyed.

Then I brought them (the whole crew) down to the lobby bar where we could use the piano, and we continued. Victor Goines joined us and at one point was at the piano, and we played Misty, the three of us. When we finished, there was an outburst of applause. People had gathered in the bar, and the bartenders had put down their serving trays. I sat with David and Morley in the bar a for a few minutes afterwards. They were so excited - it was just the kind of impromptu things they were hoping to capture.

More to come...

Ted Nash Official News Feed

What is Improvisation?

Sittin’ in with Sutton on Saturday

Hippie Mobile, Part II (to catch up, see previous blog)

Hippie Mobile, Part I

Bringin’ in the New Year Right!

Christmas Memories, Part III

Christmas Memories, Part II

Christmas Memories, Part I

Christmas Memories, Part I

Oh, Man...Oman

Weekend in LA

Constella Festival

Basic Update

Video Series Posted - Part I

Hey All! Just posted Part I of a video series on my Youtube channel. Please check it out if you get a chance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7G7W8KXbHs&feature=channel_video_title

Out Here

New Record, New Insight

Camp 2-5-1

Let Freedon Swing

Ted Nash's "Inspired by Ornette" at The Kitano August 12 and 13

Sold!

Home Stretch

Tour de France, Spain and Italy

Loss of Innocence

Reunions, Week 2

A Week of Reunions

The Eloquent Benny Golson

Puerto Rico

Chaography: Movie Shoot, Part II

Chaography: Movie Shoot, Part I

Jam for Charity

Goodbye Uncle Ted

Nursery Rhymes and Thelonious Monk

Mark Soskin Group at Kitano

Scranton: New Music, Fresh Sounds

Good time at the Savannah Music Festival

Dialogue with Slide Hampton

Playing with my father, and other gifts...

New Video uploaded

Japan relief

Disconnect to Connect

Playing with Chick Corea

60 Minutes program available on line

60 Minutes feature to air January 2nd

Some "Best of" articles

Birthday

Grammy Nomination - it's official

Grammy Nominations

Et Tu, César?

Old Havana

Magic Moment in Cuba

Hey All! Just posted Part I of a video series on my Youtube channel. Please check it out if you get a chance:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7G7W8KXbHs&feature=channel_video_title