It was the last weekend of summer for the kids. All weekend long we talked about the history of music with Al. He regaled us with stories about his history of music, playing sax, drums, and clarinet, working with bands, meeting musicians, Woodstock, and the Concert for Bangladesh. He told us about his favorite symphonies, by Bartok, and questions about the relevance of Stay tuned for more of the history of jazz with Al.
In the meantime, we enjoyed a little actual live music on Sunday night.
Number one and I played banjo.
Smith Street was pulsing with music. So we dropped by a Ugly Duckling for some tunes, blaring out their window.
Big Wrench Piano Care on Hoyt Street organized a benefit for post Harvey relief efforts.
This Sunday! Sounds! Originally planned as a Planned Parenthood benefit, we'll be doubling down by splitting the proceeds to also benefit the flood victims of Hurricane Harvey in Houston. Please spread the word, share the post and attend the show! If you can't make it, please consider a donation to either charity (links below). Jazz for a Cause continues this Sunday with the Andy Bianco trio at 7:30. $20 suggested donation; any amount is welcome. Support live music!
#SundaySounds #Jazzforacause #LiveJazz #PlannedParenthood #HurricaneHarvey #Houston
Stay tuned for Sunday sounds the first Sunday of every month. October 1st will feature a celebration of the Monk Centennial.
Labor Day we took a final trip our favorite bookstore and then to Coney Island to swim and enjoy a few final scenes of the end of summer.
Number two played at muscle beach. I swam. Birds flew above. Dominican music filled the air. It must have been our tenth trip to the holy beach for the summer.
And it always feels good to be there.
Even when the world gets me down, Coney Island reminds me of the promise of New York, its crazy people, ideas, vibes, sharing a space.
Covered in sand, number one and I read the John Ashbery obit on the way home.
His poetry points to a quiet space as summer ends.
I’ve told you before how afraid this makes me,
but I think we can handle it together,
and this is as good a place as any
to unseal my last surprise: you, as you go,
diffident, indifferent, but with the sky for an awning
for as many days as it pleases it to cover you.
That’s what I meant by “get a handle,” and as I say it,
both surface and subtext subside quintessentially
and the dead-letter office dissolves in the blue acquiescence of spring.