Mon veritable pappa jazz qui reste sur mon coeur ... toute ma vie!
My dad loved jazz- the crooney - close your eyes and melt down -kind of jazz....Saturdaymornings he played records or he'd listen to the radio.
He just HAD to sing along with Peggy Lee and Shirley Horn- Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, big band bravoura... For sure, he would throw in all the licks and chops just right!
Ofcourse there was nothing at stake, smirky family members would sigh and pull a "here he goes again" face , but I heard my dad surrender to a song like a cantor to his prayer!
I was just a little girl then, so I could not understand the drift of his "dont smoke in bed" or " is that all there is' recitals -but I heard him! I understood to sing was to surrender.
I hope now, he can hear the echo of his voice in mine somewhere up there, in the other realm! The woman next to him is my mom. She loved classical music....During weekdays, after school, I would hear Purcell, Mendelssohn, Copland, Benjamin Britten, Sephardic and yiddishe songs, you name it. Mom gave me a true education in listening and anticipating:the game inside my head would always be- ; quickly ! what'll be the next note? Llke staying afloat on a wlldly moving river of sounds- quite fun! No time to think, just feel and anticipate! No less complex then modern jazz... stay afloat- ears open concentrate, be in the now.! To me, there were no better teachers then both parents. They each in their own way, gave me acces over a musical library and a love for all kinds of sounds, remaining through time, vast, rich and colourfull. I submit this page to my site as a means to thank them for this.