(I am reposting this two-day-old piece as a political statement on populism. These fine young men, the best of the best in jazz music, musicians who could bring me to tears — along with their band leader, Rich — were out of work by the time they were 25 years of age. Why? Because they were smothered by cheap country — even younger men who blundered around musically about mama and prison and booze, "crooners" who could no more match the transcendent likes of a Sinatra or Damone than a wounded dying cat. Johnny Hodges, perhaps the finest, smoothest saxophonist ever, with Duke Ellington's orchestra, wound up having to work as a floor salesman at Sears. Because real music had been murdered by … country. I wasn't alone in my tearfulness. As the Duke wrote in his eulogy of Johnny, "Never the world's most highly animated showman or greatest stage personality, but a tone so beautiful it sometimes brought tears to the eyes—this was Johnny Hodges. This is Johnny Hodges." Turn on any contemporary FM music station today, and the tears will flow only because of populism's popular wretched taste — even worse than its taste in politicians.)
This motherfucker was inhumanly unmatchable. Just knowing that I could never be the greatest was, along with a near-death auto accident that permanently wrenched my left wrist at 17, caused, shall we say, my resignation from the drumming world. So I turned to politics, where I could … shine?
Here is God, a few years later at the Montreal Jazz Festival, leading a youthful band of the world's finest musicians, whom he could reduce to tears or send to hell if he heard even one sour note. I've heard his his after-performance "critiques" of his band's lesser efforts, and they were terrifying. As any god would be. Rich demanded perfection — period. And he got it in this performance, So strap on those headphones or plug in those ear-pod thingies and enjoy.