There have been around 1,100 jam sessions since the Dizzy’s days. We ought to get it right soon. One might surmise that several peeps turned up for this week’s Jam, played several toons quite well, murdered a coupla standards as you do, in honour of the lugubrious Belgian’s 100th birthday, and then left with that sinking feeling that betokens another Monday fast approaching. One might be right, but as I wasn’t there, I could not say..
Brussel’s answer to the sprout, Adolphe Saxe did indeed turn a hundred this week. He has much to answer for, but has done very little of late, on account of being dead.. He could have had the decency to stuff Eric Dolphy’s soprano sax with pate de foie gras before he shuffled off the mortal coil, but singularly failed to do so. Amongst his many achievements, he managed to send Belgium’s first hearing aid company broke, by practising on his soprano sax. Sales plummeted, as most customers preferred to be deaf.
Little has been heard from Mme Hortense of late, although she may have hovered briefly in the back bar of the Gold Street Gossip Shop last Sunday. She has recently broken it off with Rotten Ronnie Junior, whose second saxaphone harmonies at Madame Trixie La Belle’s Altona West Academie de Danse have taken on a consequently rather joyful tone, much to Hortense’s chagrin. The Stuffed Parrot remains deathly silent, hardly surprising since in burnt down in 1963, and will not re-open until the West Altona Progress Association consents to its new rooftop terrace, or learns the meaning of irony, whichever comes first.