Started quiet, ended up one of the very best sessions of recent years.
So… 24 musos and singers turned up for a jam session dominated by the six saxophones in attendance. What a terrible racket they made, each drowning out the elegant Curtis in turn. The Captain decided it was all too loud so he turned down the PA, the piano, the drums, Bob’s tie and probably everything else that was too loud, and wasn’t an invention of that dreadful Belgian. Ah well, we all thought (didn’t know we could do that, did you?) that at least it wouldn’t last. Which, of course, it did, without respite until way past my bedtime.
We also had four bassists (Anton, Stan, Mr T, Bill) and a European selection of drummers (Danilo (Italia) and Sebastien (Fr) trying to put everyone else off, and generally succeeding.
Highlight of the session, other than Milestones, Foot Prints, Little Bleedin’ Sunflower, Mercy Mercy Mercy and probably Blah Blah Blah, was Chelly Parisi singing Sugar, and a cameo from the Debster (see What’s On, she is, this Friday, be there!) with Bob.
One supposes that the saxophones (*) should be thanked for their efforts: Aaron, (welcome back, the Bari sounds great!) Ali (always welcome), Brent (great show last Friday at the Grand) The Captain (he can count past four, but does not care to) and Brodie – precocious young newcomer who got better and better without starting too badly either…
The Blazer played some hot solos on his geetar, ducked a couple of others to show he has lost none of his cunning, as did Yassin, and Ann blew them all away with her jazz floot.
The Divine Miss Smith, who may have been drinking spiked pina coladas as an uninvited guest of the East Brighton Gentlewomen’s Bowls and Antisocial Club all afternoon (**), then took over for a little bit of swing; without falling over.
All in all (what does that mean?) a great session by The End aka Richard, the late night pianist.
We are all going to do it again next Sunday, except me because I am going to Castlemaine. So I won’t see you there, but if everyone else could turn up wearing a green eyepatch, three gloves and a stupid grin, clutching a copy of the jazz version of Das Kapital (in 5/4 time of course) at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing who takes these sessions far too seriously, whilst rumbling up the Calder…
* If God really wanted to listen to that many saxophones, he wouldn’t have invented sound proof rooms somewhere else, with locks on their doors.
** This may not be true, but I think she said she was doing pennants after a big Saturday night, so one can’t be sure..