The phone rang. It was Myra, my agent.
''I've got a gig for you, a well paying one, are you interested?''
''Sure, who is it with and where and when?'' I asked.
''It's in two weeks, it's at some kind of ball here in Birmingham, and it's with Jordan Gray
(not his real name) and his quartet.''
''When do they want to start rehearsing?''
''I haven't got all the details yet, but I'll fax them through as soon as I get them.''
''Is there a play list so that I can prepare?''
''Not yet, but usually it's ''Real Book'' stuff (The ''Bible'' of jazz tunes).''
''Okay, I guess I can handle that, but I would really like to get a play list as soon as possible.''
''Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Bye.''
Myra hung up.
Since arriving in the US, I had done a few gigs, and Myra was right, most of them
involved using the Real Book.
The Real Book consists of hundreds of standard jazz tunes used
by most jazz musicians. If one was to call oneself a jazz musician
one was expected to be able to play all the tunes by heart,
and in the keys as noted in the Real Book.
Knowing this to be the case not only in the US, but here
in Australia as well, I spent the year before I went to the US
memorizing hundreds of tunes by heart. But, nonetheless,
I always brought my Real Book with me to any jazz gigs
that I did, just in case....
Days passed. No word from either Myra or Jordan Gray.
The date for the gig was creeping closer and closer.
I decided to call Myra.
''Have you talked to Jordan, Myra? I haven't got a play list yet.''
''I'll call him now and remind him to fax you the list.''
Two hours later a fax arrives with the sheet music for three
tunes written by Jordan Gray, but no play list, and no
date for a rehearsal. Jazz is all about improvising,
but......really? Not even one rehearsal?
Before I left for the US, Anders, a jazz guitarist and my best friend,
told me that I would be ''tested''.
Tested? What do you mean? I asked.
''They'll throw you curve balls just to see if you really know
your stuff. They'll change key, tempo, intro's and outro's
just to see if you can handle it.'' Bearing those words in mind,
I decided to learn Jordan's tunes off by heart. Just in case.
Days pass, no play list.
The day of the gig arrives.
It's a sweltering summers evening in Birmingham.
As I arrive at the gig, I realize just how big of a deal
it is.
The building in which we are performing is very impressive.
As I step into the foyer, I feel as if I have stepped back in time
and into a page of Gone with the Wind.
Sparkling chandeliers, marbled staircases, golden ornaments,
elegantly dressed men and women speaking in hushed voices,
with waiters and waitresses gliding smoothly across the black and
white tiled floor.
Except, for every now and then, when they stopped to pour some
golden liquid into glistening crystal glasses.
Half way up the right side staircase, I see a stage of sorts being set-up
by some musicians. Trying to catch their attention, I wave.
One of them sees me and hurries down the stairs.
''Hey, I'm Jordan, let me help you with your gear.''
So this is Jordan Gray. Hm, he looks a lot like Chet Baker,
hope he plays as well.
With the help of some of the others we carry my keyboard,
amp, and other bags up the stairs.
I introduce myself and then proceed to set up my gear.
I try out some chords on the keyboard to make sure everything is
working.
''Okay, let's start with one of my tunes. Let's do ''Lost'', says Jordan
then turns around, looks at me and says ''set it up''.
He counts in the tempo: ''one, two, one, two, three, four.''
This was The Test.
Though the fax with the sheet music he had sent me a few days
earlier was barely legible, I had still been able to work
out a nice little intro to his tune.
As I moved through the chords of the intro, Jordan, standing
in front of the band, turned and looked at me.
Then with a smile on his face, he said: ''Play that again.''
I had passed the test.
''Ahhh, ..... Those Jazz guys are just makin that stuff up.''
(Homer Simpson)
about the image: ink on paper
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