An Evening at the Blackstone
1999; Antioch College; Volume: 57; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês
10.2307/4613890
ISSN2326-9707
Autores Tópico(s)Theater, Performance, and Music History
ResumoI noticed that Joe Segal had added a huge picture of Dizzy to the walls of the Jazz Showcase in the old Blackstone Hotel, a giant Gap ad. It was jarring in a way. A black and white poster of Coltrane dominated one wall near the new Diz. It was a portrait I often fell into while staring at it; Coltrane in sweet Sufi ecstasy, in serene pain at the soprano. On stage now were Clark Terry and Louie Bellson, Red Holloway. Bellson had a beatific grin and Terry was sitting on a stool, slapping the inside of his thigh, yelling, Yeah, do it, and Play you horn, baby, to the saxman' s sassy lines. Then Terry started singing the bass player's solo's notes back to him-eye to eye, both of them grinning-till the bassist strummed a thumb-thick chord and Terry fell back on his stool, laughing. Later, he quoted Salt Peanuts in the thick of Green Dolphin Street. Segal had greeted Brad Goode and me at the door with an odd little dance, purely happy. The place was packed with that same happiness. It was the music that made the room giddy. the end of the last set, Clark Terry was thanking everyone and said he thought he might even be back again before winter was over. Everyone applauded. At least, I think I'll be back this season, he added, 'cause I overheard Joe saying out in the lobby, 'It'll be a cold day before he plays here again.' Joe took the mike with his smoky chortle and launched a trademark closing monologue. Thanked the gents for playing through various flu bugs and the holidays. Said he'd love to have them back, of course, but they're all off for the far corners of the world to play for others and it's a good thing too, because others love them like we do, and besides,
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