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Published: April 6th 2012
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After a little break we continue our trip like we planned. Via Reikjavik we fly with Icelandair to JFK airport in New York. Our hotel (Chelsea International Hostel) sits in 20th street in the middle of Chelsea. It is a nice area strategically located in between the icons of New York. It is beautiful weather and we take the opportunity to do what everyone is doing.That means visit Liberty Island with the Liberty statue, Ellis Island where immigrants were checked before they could enter the country, enjoying the architecture of the massive buildings, Wallstreet, the Stock exchange, Brooklyn bridge, the incredible Flatiron building, Paramount building, Chrysler building, Grand Central Terminal. And at night Empire State Building and Time Square. We get pain in our feet of all that walking. But we enjoy it here. People are very gentle. The atmosphere is open.
Inspite of all this we came here foremost to experience the jazz. We start at the 52nd street, where once the jazzclubs were. Nothing is left. The only jazzclub of the past which is still alife is Village Vanguard. It is in an other area and I have been there allready some years ago. Not for the music,
but just to inhale the times when it all happened. The time that John Coltrane still lived. Birdland still exists, but it is not the original one, where Charlie Parker used to play and where he was not allowed to come in anymore. But in 52nd street there is nothing left but some restaurants. The only thing what reminds of jazz are the names of some streets: Swingstreet, W.C. Handy square. Better to go elsewhere. To Harlem, where the Apollo Theater is at the 125th street. Years long at Wednesday evenings they organized concerts with upcoming musicians. Here stars were born. And legends. Ella Fitzgerald, Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson and so many more started their careers on this very spot. The wednesday evening concerts are still going on, but it is said that quality has gone down.
We walk the long way to the National Jazz Museum at 104 E, 126th street deeper in Harlem. It is a little museum, but very charming. We talk with Burt, who guides us around. 'Why is the museum so small?', we ask,'jazz is the national legacy of the US.' 'There are not so many people who like jazz here', says Burt. 'Maybe
a meager 1 procent.' With a lot of new information and plenty of brochures we leave the museum. Up to the Jazz at the Lincoln Center at Broadway W 60th street. It is the very center of jazz in the world. Trumpetplayer Wynton Marsalis is the art director. It is a beautiful new building. We take the lift to the 5th stock. Musicians walk in and out with their instruments. Around every corner we hear jazzmusic. No one aks something what we are doing here. We are free to go whereever we want. Finally we find a lady who seems to have some authority. If we can attend a concert, we ask. 'Oh yes, sure' she says. 'What do you want, a concert at the Jazz at the Lincoln Center or at Dizzy's Club?' We choose for the last one. She jots down our names.'We do not need to pay?' "Oh no, you can pay later, after the concert. Maybe you want to drink and eat.'
At 15 to 9 that night we stand at the entrance of Dizyy's club. There is no one. It cannot be good, we think But after a while more and more people join
in. When we enter we see a beautiful hall. Behind the stage is a enormous window with a view on the lights of Manhattan. We have got the best place, a little tabel near the band. In between us a bottel of Riesling in a cooler. The line up consists of singer Sachal Vasandani, Jeb Patton on piano, David Wong on bass and Clarence Penn on drums. The last one is announced as one the leading drummers at the moment in the world. And indeed he stirs the tension up to unbearable levels, so that the soloists cannot take a second of rest. Later Jon Hendricks joins in. Once he was the great innovator on vocals in bebop. In my imagination he was a big man with a big voice. But now I see a little man, skinny and bony. He is 90 years old by now. His voice is not that good anymore. But it is all emotion what he brings about. He is visibly enjoying the concert and is almost asking for recognition from his far younger colleagues. After the concert the Adison Evans Quintet plays in the after hours. In spite of highheeled girl in miniskirt who
plays an enormous baritonsax wonderful well we leave, because we are fully satisfied by the first concert. In the metro to our hotel we meet David Wong, the bassplayer. He tells he played several times in the Netherlands, two times on the North Sea Jazz Festival, once in Lantaarn/Venster in Rotterdam and the last time in Eindhoven. We tell him how impressed we were by his band and charmed by Jon Hendricks. 'It is nice to play with the old ones', he says. 'Last time I played with drummer Roy Haynes. He is almost 80 now and still going strong.' Better than to sit in a senior house indeed, though we saw in the magazin 'Jazz inside' a plea directed to clubs as Village Vanguard and Blue Note to support the older jazzmusicians, who are not able to play anymore and hardly have an income.
The next day we undertook the long trip to Louis Armstong's house in Queens. It is the house where Armstrong used to live during tens of years. His wife Lucille purchased it while he was on tour somewhere in the world, tells our guide. It is just an ordinary house in an ordinary area.
In his diary we writes how he loved to live here. How he loved the people in this neighbourhood. The wife of his direct neighbour joined him on his tours to assist him. She washed his clothes, tells our guide. Specially his white handkerchiefs, which he used to wipe off the sweat. 150 handkerchiefs a day, knows our guide. We see the beautiful kitchen and bathroom, things he could not afford himself when he was young. We see his desk where used to compose. In the shop you can buy pills he used for his intestines. Everyone could get them from him. He offered them even during a dinner to the British Royal family without saying what it was good for. We ask our guide, himself a saxophoneplayer, what he thinks of Armstrongs commercial escapades with songs like 'Hello Dolly'. For jazz he was lost since then. 'It does not matter for me', says our guide, 'you can still hear the genious in songs like that.' Armstrong died in his sleep with a smile on his face. He was a lucky man, who did not behave like a star. He was politically involved. Did not play in New Orleans, his
homeland, for 9 years because of the segregation. Went to the USSR in spite of all criticism, pointing out that there was still racism in his own country.
The afternoon we went back to Manhattan and strolled around in Central Park. That evening we ate in the Chinese area.
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Jaap van Elst
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Ja hoor, maak me maar jaloers....
Leuk om te zien dat de blog weer "in de lucht " is ! Alleen een beetje jammer dat je me nu gelijk de ogen gast uitsteken met die dingen die ik ook zo graag wil.. (:-)) Ja, jazzz.. Veel plezier julli twee