It’s been a funny old week…
Music-wise, at least.
And I suppose other-wise. Or, indeed, otherwise.
The other night I did something I’ve never done before: and asked the band if I could “have a quick word, please” in the second break.
(Btw, I realise I’ve never actually explained: but I do three, 30-minute sets a night, the trio kicking off each one with 15 minutes of instrumentals before I then come on to sing for those 30 minutes).
To put it bluntly: I’d had enough of mistakes on tunes which really should be known by now; and of faffing around in between numbers while they find their music for the next song. It was partly the point, after all, of them asking me to write a set list every night, so that precisely this wouldn’t happen.
And the event which had proved to be the final, spectacular, jazz straw was the playing of one tune in two entirely different keys. At the same time.
So I called a band pow-wow. Which is a polite way of saying: a telling-off.
Not that I actually told them off, of course. We’re all adults and I’m not going to get all angry and school marm-ish with them.
What I did do was tell them that when we’re good, we’re great; but that things like not having our music together made us look unprofessional, and I didn’t want that; and that really, we shouldn’t be hearing mistakes like the ones we’re still hearing. And that every night the music is left on the band stand, while these mistakes are still being made.
Please, take the music home and learn the tunes you’re not sure of, I said. Please take time to look at the set list when I give it to you, to get your music together in order, and to ask about any arrangements you’re uncertain about. Just ask.
I think what upsets me most is the idea that maybe they just don’t care enough. I realise that they have much busier lives than me, and so it’s harder to fit in practice - and I told them that I understood this - but for whatever reason, two-thirds of the trio seem happy enough with making mistakes regularly (one third doesn’t, I must add). Or rather: they don’t seem that bothered by it.
Maybe this gig means more to me than it does to them… In fact, I’m sure it does. Coming here, having my name and face on a poster, having expectations on me - I want to do a great job out here. I want to do the best job I possibly can, and to make great music for people every night. I’m not sayig that they don’t; but clearly I’m setting more store by this gig, and that’s understandable.
As L very sweetly put it, the night of the horrible incident:
“You very dedicated! You very hard-working! You don’t come here for hanky-panky!”
And well, erm, no indeed, I didn’t.
Instead, I seem to have come here and become the jazz police. And yes, this week I cautioned some offenders. Slapped a couple of jazz ASBOS on them. Threatened them with ‘Giant Steps’. That’ll learn ‘em…Well, that, and making them play ‘Take The A Train’ every night.
