When Johnny Blew That High White Note
Jazz was, is, a late addition to my musical corral. Late not because I did not appreciate jazz as great American art form, something that speaks both to the freedom and slavery mix that has dominated our cultural outlook until this very day. Late not because I was so caught up in the beat of rhythm and blues, blues straight up, and rockabilly that drove the music of my coming of age, rock and roll. Late not because I caught that last breathe of the “beat” beat and the importance of the jazz high and did not appreciate that effort it was after all the last breathe and not key to my coming of age back in the edgy early 1960s. No, late because I came late to my appreciation of the high white note, the high white in music anyway although I think I had the concept down for other things like books, films, politic and stuff like that. The holy grail search for the sublime.
Then one day I was listening to some talk show, some brow talk show where they were “celebrating” the 100th anniversary of Duke Ellington birthday and I caught the show somewhere in the middle of a piece of Duke’s music where some guy, some guy I did not know Johnny Hodge’s name at the time, blowing a big sexy sax, blowing like something out of homeland mother Africa all breathe and pause, breathe and pause improvising like crazy you could tell, building off the last riff. That was just the come-on though, come-on for me because after that piece ended I went about my business while I was listening to the rest of the show, intrigued but not hooked by any means. They did some talking about Duke’s place in the pantheon, the jazz and American songbook, about his mood pieces and then, who knows what version they were using, how would I have known then, Johnny blew the high white note, scaled the wall, on Jeep’s Blues. I thought he was going to come and back it up on that one but he didn’t, or at least not on that version. I have been searching for the jazz high white notes ever since whenever I can.
Jazz was, is, a late addition to my musical corral. Late not because I did not appreciate jazz as great American art form, something that speaks both to the freedom and slavery mix that has dominated our cultural outlook until this very day. Late not because I was so caught up in the beat of rhythm and blues, blues straight up, and rockabilly that drove the music of my coming of age, rock and roll. Late not because I caught that last breathe of the “beat” beat and the importance of the jazz high and did not appreciate that effort it was after all the last breathe and not key to my coming of age back in the edgy early 1960s. No, late because I came late to my appreciation of the high white note, the high white in music anyway although I think I had the concept down for other things like books, films, politic and stuff like that. The holy grail search for the sublime.
Then one day I was listening to some talk show, some brow talk show where they were “celebrating” the 100th anniversary of Duke Ellington birthday and I caught the show somewhere in the middle of a piece of Duke’s music where some guy, some guy I did not know Johnny Hodge’s name at the time, blowing a big sexy sax, blowing like something out of homeland mother Africa all breathe and pause, breathe and pause improvising like crazy you could tell, building off the last riff. That was just the come-on though, come-on for me because after that piece ended I went about my business while I was listening to the rest of the show, intrigued but not hooked by any means. They did some talking about Duke’s place in the pantheon, the jazz and American songbook, about his mood pieces and then, who knows what version they were using, how would I have known then, Johnny blew the high white note, scaled the wall, on Jeep’s Blues. I thought he was going to come and back it up on that one but he didn’t, or at least not on that version. I have been searching for the jazz high white notes ever since whenever I can.
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