Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Now That’s Entertainment

By Sheena Montoya Napoleon Green

Ever found yourself (accidentally or otherwise) watching one of MTV’s more hilarious inadvertent comedies, Making the Band 3? I’m not gonna lie; I have. Actually, anytime I’m channel surfing for background noise and I find that it’s on, I stop there. Up until a week or so ago I couldn’t tell if I was losing my edge and actually appreciating the show for reasons unknown or if it was simply one of those train wreck scenarios. I got my answer ten or so days ago in the form of the best live show I’ve seen all summer, the jazz jam at Maximedia Studios.

The jazz jam is Maximedia’s weekly midnight-jazz-slash-hip-hoppish-improvisational-free-for-all-party at which the list of performers consists of any audience member sufficiently talented and brave enough to take the stage with total strangers. From what I could discern from the proceedings, the rules, if there are any, are as follows: 1) If you take the stage, don’t suck. 2) Even if you don’t suck, don’t be a d-bag (no pre-madonnaing, madonnaing, or otherwise diva-esque behavior); everyone’s got to be heard, or as the dude with the Quincy Jones Newsboy and the Cool Cat speecherisms put it, “We can’t all talk at once.” And 3) Don’t drink all the beer.

Everyone played nice, but the high points of the show were actually the moments of friendly musical jousting between the artists; there’s nothing that thrills in quite the same way as watching a trumpeter and a saxophonist clashing on stage a they attempt to improvise in concert and then observing as each let’s his individual machinations play out and they find their way – together. The show reached it’s zenith musically when a rapper, Big Ben, took the stage and exploded freestyle all over the mic and the loose jazz progression of which the ensemble was in the throws, proving that not only could they all speak at once, they didn’t even have to speak the same dialect. It was a performance unique to this sort of show and probably the closest to experiencing the A Tribe Called Quest vibe anyone under twenty-five is going to get.

Nearly all of the shows performances were of similar caliber. Standards from Miles Davis, Coltrane, and an impressive take on Brubeck’s “Take Five” delighted, but a greater wave of arousal washed over the crowd, whose enthusiasm even at its least dense moments was contagious, once the improvisations began. The level of talent was immense (there was by turns an insane saxophonist, at least three outrageous drummers, a trumpeter who after several turns on stage turned out to be a worthy vocalist as well, and one apparently timid saxophonist who could barely get a word in edgewise but impressed each time he did), only outdone, perhaps, by the approbation of the crowd. It’s the sort of event at which the music acts like a mild intoxicant; audience members appear to feel a faint euphoria, inhibitions are lowered slightly, and people are actually compelled to converse about the music, the wolrd, and the interrelation of the two (no, none of that hands-in-pockets-anonymity here).

It’s during one of these impromptu chats that it is brought to my attention by an enthusiastic intern at Maximedia that it is a train wreck scenario, a fascination with watching what is essentially an amalgamation of image, mimicry, sexploitation, production, and rampant PR serving as surrogates to art in place of creativity, expression and genuine passionate effort. I know the sentiment has been passe since the New Kids on the Block, but jazz jam is sort of a rejuvenating musical experience, an antidote to the creatively nihilistic landscape of much of popular music – and answer to those of us who wonder sometimes if it means anything anymore. To the musicians at jazz jam, it matters; some had obviously been playing for decades, and for them it’s clear that fame isn’t even a consideration as their talent is a forgone conclusion. The younger kids were so obviously happy just to have the opportunity to do what they love in communion with a crowd. Other than the general buzz of an all around good freakin’ time, that’s the overwhelming sensation one takes away from jazz jam: a sense of community, a bond between musician and enthusiast. Jazz jam feels like an organic reaction to the commodification of music, a subtle reminder that it isn’t sterile, technical perfection or soulless production that makes for affecting music. The “mistakes” at the show were some of its most exhilarating moments; watching faithfully as the constantly fluctuating ensembles sometimes lost tempo or momentarily slipped out of key was rewarded by craziest musicianship I’ve ever experienced live. Imagine someone putting you on stage at random and demanding that you “Play something.” Now imagine being able to do it.

Speaking to any one of the minds behind the jazz jam (who inform me that the event as of now is on indefinite hiatus, so I guess demanding that you “Go!! Go!! Next week!!” is somewhat premature) I got a distinct sense of the enthusiasm and excitement everyone involved with it feels for not only the music that they’re making, but what they’re doing. The most appreciable aspect of jazz jam is that there is no such hierarchy as artist and fan; everyone appreciates the art just as much as they are a part of it.

This story was submitted by a member of the TexasGigs community

See more stories in:

Comments