Remember when you were embarrassed to ask for something from, say, your old and sickly grandmother who barely had the energy to raise her hand and pat you on the head?
"I wish for world peace, Grammy," you’d respond, and leave it at that. I mean, the old gal couldn’t afford to get you a present. She was buying more drugs than Amy Winehouse on a tour of the Balkans.
Hanging out at Jardine’s Saturday night, I thought how nice a slice of that peace would be– peace between jazz musicians and club owners. It seems somebody told somebody something, and the next thing we jazz fans knew, part of the band at Jardine’s didn’t show up. The guys who did play worked their hands off; and Beena put a brave face on it.
But this was Saturday night at the best jazz club in town. We all deserved better (even without a cover).
This boycott Beena business is a dead end.
Musicians playing in their living rooms is the bop version of trees falling in the forest; who cares? Audiences need players; players need a place to play; and somebody’s got to do the not always pleasant job of staying up til 3am, making sure the place is clean, liquor is put away and the front door locked.
I don’t want to do it; does anyone know somebody who does?
Sure, you don’t always get the perfect person in the job (remember George W Bush)? But Jardine’s has been a great place to listen and be heard for too long to just turn your back on it now.
SO– you musicians who won’t play there. How about a little slice of peace?
Bury the hatchet, recognize that a somewhat wild and crazy club owner is better than a club owner who doesn’t care, and get back to what you love doing and we love hearing you do. Come on, people now, smile on your brother. Everybody get together, try to at least work with one another right now.