An Evening of Jazz

Friday I got together with Urban Melissa and our two Romanian friends, Grandpa and Waffle, for an evening at a wine bar and a chance to hear Urban Melissa's boyfriend play the saxophone in a jazz duet.

Grandpa is an engineer, about 50, with a strip of white hair on the back of his head. He recently shaved his beard. A few years ago, he got a divorce and still carries the sadness. He's one of those guys who could be so money, but he doesn't see it yet. Give him some nice clothes and put him in the bar of any hotel on Michigan Avenue (and get him to smile once in awhile) and his old-school European charm would make him the hit of the 40-something wealthy divorcees (they are legion in Chicago) who frequent such establishments. Sophisticated, traveled, fluent in French, well-mannered, fuhgitaboutit....instead, he complains about how hard it is to meet people after a certain age. I met attending a film class.

Waffle is his female sidekick. Their relationship is ambiguous---they travel together and dine out, but both have mentioned other people they have dated. Maybe they're friends with benefits. Waffle is about 40, a red-headed theatre-goer and overall aesthete who runs her own business. She is very sarcastic and has a gift for perfectly timed quips.

Urban Melissa told me before the outing that she had a talk with her boyfriend (referred to hereafter as UMB) and straightened him out on the jealousy issue, explaining again that she and I are just friends. She asked me not to mention it to him. She also updated me on the threesome situation---she approached UMB a while back about a threesome but he felt that it might screw up their relationship. Apparently, he's had a change of heart and now they just need to find an attractive woman who won't get emotionally attached. She had thought about approaching Mar, but is unsure about her mental state. I happen to know that UMB can't stand Mar, so that probably takes her off the short list.

The danger, of course, is that someone always feels left out in a threesome. My hunch tells me that this could end very badly.

Anyway, UMB was terriffic on the saxophone. He plays with a silky smooth tone, along the lines of Lester Young and Stan Getz. He concentrated mostly on standards such as Gee, Baby, Ain't I Good to You and The Sunny Side of the Street. The din of the conversation was deafening, even at our own table. I'm a jazz fanatic but it was hard to give the playing my full attention, as Urban Melissa and everyone else kept talking over the music. I was torn between giving my full attention to the music and being sociable. Eventually, I compromised---listening attentively to one song, conversing with my companions during the next.

Afterward, UMB very graciously apologized for running out the previous week, explaining that he was feeling the effects of the alcohol. I said no problem, he bought me a shot and we chatted for a bit.

I couldn't help wondering how UMB felt about the fact that his girlfriend was talking the whole time he was playing. This never happens to any of the rock musicians I know. It's symptomatic of the lack of respect shown to jazz that it's relegated to background music for patrons who frequent jazz establishments for their sophisticated iconography but have no idea what they're listening to. Nor do they care to learn. They just keep talking and talking and talking. And it makes going to jazz clubs a real pain in the ass sometimes.

That reminds me of an experiment conducted by the Washington Post. They sent Joshua Bell, one of the top violinists in the world, to play his Stradivarius in a D.C. subway station for commuters. There's even a time-lapse video. Joshua Bell playing the Chaconne, everyone rushing past. Fucking Amazing.

Or maybe I'm just becoming a crank in my old age.

On another front, I've started getting text messages from Mar again. I'd really rather not hang out with her socially, but I don't want to be rude to her either. What to do, what to do....