The Natural Laws and Principles of Ye Jamme Session

Like all other slightly deviant activities in the  universe, or the back bar, whichever you happen to be in at the time, the Melbourne (*) Jam Sessions are subject to immutable laws, generally empirically derived, and only clarified by the third or fourth round of drinks.




ABILITY  The Inverse Law of competence: This states that the amount of time taken to set up and start playing your instrument is inversely proportional to the level of competence subsequently displayed.


IMPROVISATION: The Law of Improvisation states that the number of notes played per nano second is often a clear indication of the complete lack of creativity in any given solo. Or of a devotion to late stage middle age be-bop fixation, which is much the same thing.


SOUND LEVELS: This law states that the louder you play, the better it will sound. It is a crap law, but does appear to have widespread support.


COMPLEXITY: The Law of Complexity states that complex tunes and/or arrangements, must generally be attempted by people deeply unable to master them, and deeply unable to appreciate that they remain un-mastered.. This Law of Complexity is often enhanced by the attemptee indulging in long explanations to other players of the form, intro, outro, key, fifth page repeated three times etc. etc. This leads to the Law of Perplexity


THE LAW OF PERPLEXITY: This states that the extent to which any given musician could not give a rats posterior about the long winded explanation (see above) is exactly proportional to the relative ability of that player vis a vis the attemtptee (see above again...)


THE GADGETS PRINCIPLE: The Gadgets Principle is that the number of gadgets required by a musician multiplied by the number of minutes required to connect said gadgets, divided by the number of tunes that could have been played in the time taken to rummage around for all the gadgets in the first place, then added to the the number of musicians standing around waiting for gadget connecting sequence to be completed... is errmm... a very silly number indeed.


THE COOLNESS QUOTIENT: This quotient can be derived by dividing your age by the number of years spent in studying jazz,. If the answer is between 7 and infinity, you need to stay out of the sun, acquire black clothes, a pork pie hat, a supercilious sneer, thick rimmed spectacles and a goatee beard. If female, you can skip the pork pie hat.


If your answer is below 7, you rock, Dude, probably own at least one skivvy with no writing on it, prefer vinyl to CD, know someone who knows someone who has heard of you but never met, and have travelled extensively in third world countries such as Carlton North and Abbotsford.


Footnote
Melbourne (Australia) is not known as the cultural capital of the South for nothing. It is a city of around 3.5 million people,  who all wear black, know where the best coffee in Melbourne is, and voted for someone else at the last election, so cannot be held responsible...

Advertising the jam sessions: tits to that!

Advertising every session every week is as much of a challenge as describing every session every week. I have put ads on Melband, which is a blog related to all thing musical in Melbourne, Australia. God knows if the ads worked... some very weird people have turned up on occasion, but I am consoled by the thought  that quite a lot of equally weird people haven't... so here goes: 

You are not allowed to say “tits” on the website any more:" Drop in and blow the tits off your fave toon or three, in front of an audience that is house-trained, enthusiastic, confused and friendly."

Kylie Minogue! "The jazz jams are a great opportunity to meet other musos, do a little networking on the side, set up the Next Big Thing, or Medium Sized thing if you prefer, try out a toon or three, whatever. Kylie Minogue won't be there this week. Probably. I haven't checked with her management."

Where is it? "The Leinster Arms, Gold Street, Collingwood - its half a falafel North of Johnson Street if you are a quick eater..."

A Warm welcome: "The beer is cheap, the audience have absolutely no taste in music but like it just the same and a warm welcome is assured."

The week after a busy session...no-one is expected to be there at all. This is your opportunity to launch your gigging career, play to an empty house, monopolise a vacant stage, indulge your inner muse, polish up your ukulele, maybe even play in tune (with yourself perhaps?). There again, there could be any number of musos to meet, some of whom are alarmingly normal, not all of whom are on medication, and most of whom will be happy to jam on a toon or three..

 A Suitable Motto perhaps: "Enthusiasm essential, charts a bonus, performance anxiety optional and competence to be well concealed as a kindness to others"

Chops? This is an opportunity to try out new stuff, develop your chops, whatever they are, and network with other musos. Or just drink beer.

It's free!: "Jazz musos invited, everyone else just welcome..."

Questions:" Send an e-mail for more information. (Can I play Coltrane? What's a chart? Where's the effin' Royal Standard? Can I play excerpts from The Sound of Music? Can Coltrane play excerpts from The Sound of Music? Do I feel smug if I know the answer to that last question?..."

Competence: "Jazz musos of all levels of incompetence (from the profound through stupefyingly to slightly) are respectfully requested to front up, deny everything and then blow the tits off their favourite tune - or just sit back and get in the groove. Hortense likes that....  "

Golf

Golf

A pleasant walk in the countryside, ruined. The golfer Gary Player once chipped a ball from a near unplayable lie to within inches of the pin. A spectator  was heard to comment - Wow, that was a lucky shot! Gary agreed that it certainly was, but, observed that the more he practiced, the luckier he got...

Not much luck at  the Sunday Arvo Leinster Jam De Luxe, then. . Strewth, but  they all turned up - some even played music. As fine an afternoon of ballad mangling as I can remember, so props to Frank the Finger, Keef (in fine form, kept playing the Captain's faves before Col could get to them) Paul drums 'n bass, Don, Jacin, John (a diverse selection of guitaristes this week), Agus (piano) accompanying Sir Roger who blew up a storm on alto sax, Noriyo (late starter, piano) , I think Ali and Peter played sax, but I can't remember either , Jack on  Trombone, whose singing is no idle threat, all directed, as ever by Captain Chaos who had stops, fours, rhythm changes, medication changes, and another beer at the bar for me please, all down to a fine art. Glen (landlord) got a fine round of applause for his drumming, and, come to think of it, so did Alan, when he stopped.

Jam sessions: a pleasant romp through the standards, ruined. And no one got within cooee of the pin. Tells ya something, but I am not sure what...


Melbourne Australia: the jam session capital of the free world, or this part of it anyway. The Leinster Arms Hotel, Gold Street Collingwood, Sunday afternoon from 4.00pm onwards. If you are passing by this part of the world (which you probably won't be unless you start somewhere North of the Equator and need to get to Antarctica,) feel free to drop in,  blow up a storm, preferably on your own violin, tell exaggerated stories about your musical or golfing career, and buy us all a drink. We'd love to see you. Really.

On Jam Sessions:

I have been thinking about the nature of Jam Sessions. In New York, jams are dominated by professionals, as perhaps they should be.  In London, apparently, there is a jam every night of the week, mainly for professionals, but with amateur sit ins; some with a cover charge for the audience and musos in for free; others where they pass a bucket round and everyone tosses in a coin. Here in Melbourne, deep south capital of culture (not),  jam sessions seem to come and go, and vary between the deadly serious rendition of (normally) bebop,  and the entirely light hearted mangling of whatever tune springs to mind. No prizes for guessing where the Melbourne Jazz Jammers sit.


We have no jam sessions for professionals, for the simple reason that those few professionals that survive on Melbourne gigs are way too busy trying to earn a living and/or claw their way to the top. It shouldn't take long, as the top is remarkably close to the bottom.


It is a pity really, as jam sessions, free or not, are an easy entry point for people interested in listening to, or playing, jazz. I feel that they really help promote the jazz scene, and build an audience for up and coming musos.


The MJJ sessions are squarely aimed at the enthusiastic amateur. This invites disaster as there are always a few whose self esteem runs way ahead of their ability(*) . But in between the train wrecks, are moments of ballad mangling delight - a bunch of incompetents having fun is always entertaining, and the Jammers often have the audience numbers to prove it.


(*) It is often said that to be a good jazz piano player, you need a very high opinion of your own ability. True enough, and as they say, in my case, entirely justified...
. 

Sunday Arvo at the Lunatic Soup Kitchen

Sunday Arvo at the Lunatic Soup Kitchen, mouldering pile and watering hole of distinction in the grubby backstreets of Melbourne, Australia .  Glen the Landlord was giving away free beer, but that was yesterday.


Ah yes, the jam, now let's see. Started well enough with the usual suspects Col, Frank and Brian, joined shortly thereafter by meself, Al The Jazz (drums) and Jack the Lad (trombone).  Ali (tenor sax) joined the Captain, and then Keef sauntered in, as he does. Very good sauntering from Keef, we all thought.


The music ranged from Naima (Coltrane) to When My Baby Walks Down the Street (tin pan alley). Ali's friend/sister/complete bluddy stranger got up and sang My Funny Valentine followed by the Eva Cassidy arrangement of Autumn Leaves.. McCue played well until  he fell for the old make-it-hard-for-the-piano-player trick, and got lumbered with You Don't Know What Love Is, played in entirely the wrong tempo by all concerned. You Don't Know What the Tune Is, played by all unconcerned,  more like. Rob retired to the bar to contemplate the sight of four sets of feet tapping away, to four different beats..


The Jazz was so good on the sticks, we had a struggle persuading Hirsh to take over, but eventually he conquered his nerves (hah!) and positively ripped through Bernie's Tune, One For My Father, and a coupla others. Somewhere in the middle of all that, a young lady aged about 10 got up and played some solo piano. Precocious brat, disgustingly confident, quite good. Shouldn't be allowed. Then Noriyo from Kyoto stepped up and played keys for fine renditions of Ipanema and Satin Doll, and will hopefully do so again.

An entertaining afternoon, with an audience that stayed, drank and gossiped as they should. It  ended with the usual riotous assembly ripping out a fine version of  Doxy then comprehensively murdering Route 66, We'll probably do it all again next week, only better, or worse, or backwards.

My Funny Valentine , by the way, is no laughing matter. Autumn Leaves, but it keeps coming back. We didn't play Summertime., and most of the other tunes weren't much better. There is nothing wrong with a jazz waltz chart that a box of matches couldn't fix. Captain Chaos could organise fours without total confusion resulting, but he prefers not to, and from an entertainment value standpoint, I think he is on to something.

Sunday at the Leinster: A Jam Session perhaps

Sunday at the Leinster: All chips and nonsense really. What had started as a quiet afternoon with Frank, Brian and Col performing the opening stanza for the benefit of Don and meself, turned out to be one of those typically chaotic ballad mangling sessions with the likes of Maria, Deb, and Kay taking it in turns on the tonsils, whilst the rest of us (that is once Keef, Jack, and Jim had joined in)  had a quick loop through the Captain Chaos book of songswhatcolknows, some young drummer turned up , turfed the world's 4,578th worst drummer off the skins, tweaked the tempo and entirely disconcerted the string section toasting by the fire. Then a casual passer by got up to sing Summertime as casual passers by occasionally do, only she really could sing.

Frank the indefatigable played Route 66 without resorting to his Melways, Debbie sang One Note Samba so fast it sound like half a note samba, and the evening ended in style, with Maria, Deb, Kay and POCKOTL taking turns round Bye Bye Blackbird. A wonderful song sung with such vigour that by the end of it, there was not a single blackbird left in the Leinster Arms Lounge Bar and Lunatic Soup Kitchen, and not many paying customers either... so we all rolled out into the gathering dusk, reflecting on the fact that some jazz tunes might sound better with a bossa, swing and country feel all emanating from different corners of the pit orchestra, only we don't know which ones.. and nor, given the afternoon's entertainments, which proved many and varied, should we care....

For the benefit of casual readers from somewhere other than Melbourne , Australia, I append some helpful explanatory notes:

The Leinster:: this is a pub styled in the manner of a 1950's recreation of a midland counties 1923 hotel gone to seed.
" Frank the Indefatigable played Route 66 without resorting to his Melways" The Melways is a locally produced book of maps, whereby one can tell exactly where one is lost in Melbourne, which is a sprawling city of some 3 million souls, all of whom wear black.
And Frank got lost, by the way.

POCKOTL: Princess of Cool and Keeper of the List: she who has the e-mail list for the jammers newsletter. Has been known to dance on the tables with an inverted salad bowl on her head, and swearing like a trooper in Greek. Most of this is completely untrue.

Jazz v Blues, Corporate Gigs and 27

Jazz v Blues

I read the other day that the difference between jazz musicians and blues is that blues musicians play three chords in front of thousands of people, whilst jazz musicians play thousands of chords in front of three people.

Three people! Jazz audiences must be getting bigger....

Corporate gigs

I keep getting asked to do corporate gigs. (Well, if you count once in a blue moon as keep getting asked). I have always liked corporate gigs because they pay well, but I have never been quite sure what "corporate" means. Body or something, I guess. Whatever, these are gigs attended by people with cloth ears and high disposable income. They have the high disposable income because someone else is paying for it. I don't know where they get the cloth ears from, but I am not complaining.

27

All that stuff about musicians dropping off the perch at 27.  I can't help feeling that it is not the music that kills them, but the management. Amy Winehouse is going to be a very profitable industry judging by the record sales. She was a real person before she became a pop icon with a habit. Thankfully, most jazz musicians do an absolutely marvellous job in avoiding the pitfalls of making too much money.