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I am writing this final entry *tear* on my flight home from London Heathrow to Philadelphia International. I can’t believe it’s all over. This trip has been incredible and I have so many fond memories…I grew attached to so many different kebab stands. However, I’m pretty exhausted and looking forward to showering, shaving, and once again maintaining my personal hygiene after five weeks of living out of a suitcase, constantly being on the move, and jumping from hostel to hostel.
Although we traveled to London basically out of necessity, as the cheapest flight we could find home was from Heathrow, we had some pretty great experiences while in England. Although we vowed to not spend much money (impossible in London) by living off Shawarma and taking it easy, we hardly stuck to this plan and kept going intensely.
This guy was actually one of the more intelligent and rational of the bunch, despite the tighty-whiteys and swim goggles. Plus, I love the slogan on his shirt taken right from Tun’s room: “God is too big to fit into any one religion.”
Some noteworthy touristy activities included a trip to Buckingham Palace, a tour through the London Tower, and a Sunday at “Speaker’s Corner” in Hyde Park, to listen to the crazies on their soapboxes (left).
Another fun activity was a “Prom” at the Royal Albert Hall…not what you think… we weren’t on a quest to pick up high school girls, believe it or not. It was actually a BBC Symphony Orchestra performance of a bizarre, one movement Oboe Concerto by Eliot Carter, which the composer described as “the soloist accompanied in its widely varying, mercurial moods by a percussionist and four violas,” (whatever that means…it was pretty out) written twenty years ago and Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C minor, which was composed two-hundred years ago.
BBC Symphony Orchestra at Royal Albert Hall
What “Promming” means is that we had to show up a half an hour before the concert began to buy tickets for five pounds that allowed us to stand directly in front of the orchestra. We were literally three rows from the violins while people who paid upwards of sixty pounds got to sit behind us…suckers (I stole this picture off the internet, I confess). The Royal Albert Hall is an impressive concert venue both aesthetically and acoustically, and hearing Beethoven’s bombastic and tension-filled Fifth Symphony there, as performed by such a polished Orchestra like the BBC Symphony, was a pretty amazing experience.
Our final night (last night), after walking around the city all day and growing weary at around 5:30pm, we decided to rest on a bench near Hyde Park to kill some time by solving sudoku puzzles and reading before we planned to grab a quick bite and head off to a comedy show that came highly recommended by “Time Out” Magazine,” London’s (and other major cities’) trusty source for cultural, artistic, and nightlife activities. Because none of us were wearing watches, we had no idea that when we started to head back to our hostel it was pushing 8pm. By the time we finally arrived at the comedy club it was around 9:05, about twenty minutes into the comic’s one hour set. We decided to pay the cover and go in anyways, because we didn’t have a backup plan.
Scott Capurro
The comedian was Scott Capurro, a San Francisco-based comic whose bit was entitled “Goes Deeper,” and it was at Libertines bar as part of the Camden Fringe Festival. Capurro is known for his crude humor and equal opportunity offensiveness, as no religious, ethnic, regional, or racial group/person in his audience will escape his act unscathed. After ordering a drink at the bar, the three of us walked down to the basement where the show was going on. Right as we walked in, and before we could sit down, the comic stopped mid sentence to direct his attention to us and said: “who are these three idiots with beards and bad tee-shirts showing up late to my set? At this point, why bother? You missed the whole set-up.” He then proceeded to grill and rip on us for the next ten minutes by drawing on a bunch of U.S. stereotypes (several of the more specific of which the audience did not seem to follow), before moving on to his next victims. While his humor was often more about shock value than anything else, and at times came close to Michael Richards’ level of bigotry (but directed every which way), his act had its moments and, at times, he even provided interesting social commentary.
After the show we hit a bar close by the comedy club and spent a couple hours recollecting highlights from our trip over drinks.
I don’t know how to end this thing, but I’ve been rambling long enough and should get on with my life. I guess I’ll conclude this entry about our time in England with the coda to the Beatles’ final album Abbey Road, “Her Majesty” (it was either this or the penultimate track “The End”). For the sake of closure, however, I won’t use the version on the album which ends on the dominant unresolved, but rather an alternate take that goes to the tonic. This is one of my all time favorite Beatles tunes despite its simplicity and length (30 seconds), and I will leave you (hypothetical reader) with it. Enjoy.
Four days ago we arrived safely in Dublin after a night in the Marseilles airport and quickly found a great, inexpensive hostel called Isaacs. This hostel has many amenities not typically found in hostels, including four security doors requiring a swipe card before you can enter your room, a free sauna from 18:00 till 21:00, a game room including a pool table, black lights in the bathroom that make the tp glow (so awesome!), and a free breakfast (bread, jam, and coffee).
Our first full day we toured the city on our own, hitting the writers’ museum, the Guinness Storehouse and a couple of monuments.
That night, as recommended by the receptionist at our hostel, we probably ate the most delicious meal of the whole trip, at a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant right by the Spire (I’m blanking on the name right now, I’ll find it). We ate there again the next night because every dish was was sooo spicy, and flavorful, and the naan (pita bread) was so good.
Also, that night we met up with two of Andres’ friends who are brothers and live in Dublin. Dre knew both of them from a summer camp in Minnesota they all attended, and hasn’t seen either one for several years. Nevertheless, we all hit it off, and Ben and Steve hung with us throughout our stay. Very cool dudes and great hosts.
Dre and Ben sharing a brew at a nightclub on our last night in Dublin.
They took us to all the best parts of town including the Temple Bar and Trinity College areas to experience “Publin,” as well as the best cheap restaurants, notably the excellent Kebab Chain Abrakebabra (right). They also recommended a gigantic movie theater called the Savoy to experience Batman: The Dark Knight, which was easily one of my favorite movies of the year. Plus, they kept buying us Cadbury chocolate (which is so much better than Hershey’s and I’m officially hooked) and drinks such as Bulmers, which is a tasty hard cider. We finally got them back by buying them some drinks the last night. They could not have been more hospitable and made our stay in Dublin amazing.
The next day, which may have been my favorite day of the whole trip, Ben and Steve graciously volunteered to take the day off work and drive us to various locations to hike, rock-climb, and observe throughout the Wicklow Mountains, an extraordinary rural, mountainous region that served as the filming site for blockbuster hits like Braveheart and Excalibur. It also served for blockbuster flops like PS I Love You.
The three of us with Andres' friends, who were excellent hosts, at the edge of a cliff next to a narrow waterfall overlooking the Wicklow Mountains.
Being natives, they knew of all the best spots and were able to use their crazy driving skills to get around in half as long as it should have taken. Ben even took a detour to show us a still-broken wooden fence where he had previously crashed his car that made us a bit uneasy. Plus, the roads were really windy and narrow, and we were driving through the mountains, all of which were a bit unsettling. Coming from a fast driver, Ben is a maniac behind the wheel, but Steve kept assuring us that he has great reflexes. Anyway, we made it back in one piece, so no complaints.
Our first main stop was at one of the oldest monasteries in Ireland. It was built in the 6th Century, and is called Glendalough, pronounced “Glen dal ::cough::”
After Glendalough, we drove up into the mountains a little ways, parked the car, and climbed along rocks covering a small stream to make our way down the mountain. This stream met a cliff about half way down the mountain and became a huge waterfall, which overlooked a deep valley surrounded by great green mountains. We jumped all the way along the rocks leading up to the waterfall so that we could stand on the edge of it and overlook the whole range. It was an incredible view.
The last place we visited was Guinness Lake, where Michael Jackson apparently stayed for several months when he was trying to lay low and avoid some controversy.
Andres busting out the glasses to enjoy the unbelievable view at Guinness Lake.
While we were at the top of a cliff overlooking the lake down below, there happened to be a film crew making a movie by the lakeside. We heard someone call out, “action!” and subsequently yelled as loud as we could in hopes of making it into whatever movie they were filming. Actually, we probably just ruined that take. All in all, it was an epic day.
Our last night in Clublin we met up with our new friends and did the late night dancing thing. It was an awesome night and we partied until dawn. Fun way to finish up with a great city.
From Holland we went to Marseille, which is an old port city in France. It is actually the oldest city in that country, dating back to 600 BC, and is filled with architecture from the 15th century. The second day there we were joined by our good friend Ivan, who traveled from Bulgaria (an exceedingly corrupt country, as we learned from the BBC in a highly dramatic news special) to meet us there. Since none of us spoke French, Ivan was our personal diplomat and translator. But, while he is a true bro for joining us on our journey, he is not yet free from the corrupt ways of his country, as for before leaving the hotel and parting ways he “accidentally” stole Danny’s pants.
The first day, before Ivan arrived, we slept from 2pm till 10pm. Later on, we slept again. From midnight till noon. (We were very tired after spending the previous night in the Eindhoven airport.) For Dre, however this sleep schedule is not out of the ordinary.
The second day, after failing to do ANYTHING touristy (we even ate dinner at McDonalds the night before), we met up with Ivan and headed for the beaches. We walked around the port area, where in some places the sailboat masts were so dense that you couldn’t see past them.
Dre's map was too big to fit in this picture.
After four hours at the beach we decided we were hungry. Thanks to the trusty Let’s Go Europe guidebook, we found a diamond in the ruff, a North African restaurant called “Ivoire.” It was a small hole-in-the-wall place in a kind of sketchy part of town, but the wild starburst of flavors we experienced was mind-blowing. We ate family style, ordering a fish (we emphasize “a fish,” because it came whole, with head and tail intact), chicken with rice, and beef with fried banana and couscous. The woman who took our order and owns the restaurant, and who refers to herself as “Mama Africa,” was extremely motherly, and is the only person on this trip to ask us for a picture. Much of her act was clearly a tourist gimmick,
The four of us with "Mama Africa," after eating our delicious African meal at Ivoire Restaurant.
but she was a doll nonetheless.
The third day in Marseille we took a boat trip to an island twenty minutes off the coast called L’ Chateau de If, which houses the Marseille version of Alcatraz. The old jail was built entirely from a sand-colored stone and was converted from a castle. Apparently, it was a military stronghold for many years, and legend (i.e. the tourist brochure) has it that fathers would send their sons to the prison for behavioral reform, and, in some cases, for making no plans after graduating college. (Yikes!)
Later that night, while walking through the streets, we heard in the distance the agonizing wail of a Joshua Redman saxophone impersonator. We immediately followed the sound, ran up a long set of stairs and found ourselves in an outdoor patio watching an authentic French jazz trio perform. There was a picket-fence-like roof covered with ivy and bubble lights, and the patio was built out of old brick. It overlooked a small narrow street where we had been walking, and the rest of the night was cool and very relaxing. We tried the local beer and sat there for about an hour while listening to the band play jazz standards. The music was great, and we even requested a song, “Beautiful Love,” which they played… beautifully.
The jazz trio, consisting of bass, piano, and saxophone, playing our request, "Bel Amor."
After the set finished, we supped at a very French restaurant, where we had another excellent meal of fresh Atlantic Salmon and pink wine. Then we got a bottle of local Marseilles wine, as recommended by Matt Penman (we’re not worthy!), and enjoyed it in a park in front of the Port Vieux. It was very romantic, yet again. At least this time Ivan was here so Dre wasn’t the third wheel.
The last cool thing we’ll mention was our hike (basically up a mountain) to the Basilica of Notre Dame de la Garde, which is the highest point in Marseilles and is unquestionably the best view of the city and port.
View from the Notre Dame Basilica
After Rotterdam, we took a train ride to Amsterdam to meet Dre at the hostel we reserved. Based on price and user comments on the Hostel World website, we settled on what proved to be a great, clean, inexpensive hostel with nice amenities called Shelter City, located in the heart of the Red Light District. The catch? Oddly enough, the hostel is an Evangelical Christian one that offers daily church prayer and bible studies sessions, as well as pamphlets on the gospels and huge signs reading “Jesus is Lord” and the likes.
A mildly offensive picture taken of me at the Hostel...influenced by the Exorcist (read on)
Although I have been raised in a Jewish household (information that I did not divulge upon my arrival!), I was more bewildered and awestruck that such a hostel could exist in the heart of Sin City than uncomfortable in this habitat where we lived for five days. We had an ongoing joke that after people came home to the hostel from their drug, sex, and alcohol binges, the receptionists would throw holy water on them and act out a similar ritual as is performed at the end of the movie The Exorcist, where the two priests, in an attempt to save the young girl’s soul, pray for her, repeatedly yelling “the power of Christ compels you!” to try to exorcise her demons. Pretty culturally insensitive I realize, but try to forgive my sins! Check it out:
I did actually hear of a situation when a guy came back drunk and was sat down by one of the staff members to talk about how what he did was wrong and that he should reform (in so many words). Nonetheless, the staff members were very friendly and were even willing to play a card game that suits us well called “asshole.”
Otherwise in Amsterdam, we biked all around the city (in true Dutch fashion) including through the beautiful Vondelpark where we also climbed trees, ate amazing Dutch Pancakes (left), 
saw a cool free break dancing performance (right),
went to Europe’s largest Public library, as well as to the Vincent Van Gogh museum. We also went to the Sex Museum, which was a total waste of the three euro entrance fee, as I guess we were expecting a nuanced and entertaining museum on human sexuality, and basically got a bunch of big stone phalluses instead. This was disappointing as essentially everywhere you turn in Europe you can see big stone phallic monuments that are all free to view.
Great view from top floor of Amsterdam Public Library, overlooking the entire cityscape.
On the third and final day, Me and Danny were exhausted. We eventually woke up at 14:00, ate “breakfast” at Subway, and headed right over to the Ahoy Concert Venue.
At 16:00, we saw a condensed Preservation Hall Jazz Band, featuring: Clint Maedgen (vocals, tenor sax); Mark Braud (vocals, trumpet); Walter Payton (vocals, bass); Elliott “Stackman” Callier (sax); Freddie Lonzo (trombone); Ben Jaffe (tuba); Rickie Monie (piano); Shannon Powell (drums).
Preservation Hall Jazz Band
These guys embody the origins of jazz history. They play traditional early “N’awlins” jazz with authentic stop time, street beats, and collective improvisation to boot. This band is like an ancient relic recently awoken from cryogenic freezing… or “Preservation,” (I realize I’m not funny but it entertains me). Most of the other concert-goers were as ancient as band. The Preservation Hall Band was interesting to view as a historical artifact, but our desires for modern jazz overtook our willingness to tolerate a history lesson and we bolted early.
At 17:30, we left the Preservation concert to see Phil Woods and Friends: Phil Woods, Jesse Davis (alto sax); Donald Vega (piano); Daryll Hall (double bass); Leon Parker (drums). Very crisp and flawlessly executed Bruce Diehl jazz (in reference to our college jazz coach who idolizes Phil Woods’ playing).
At 19:00, we switched venues to see the Brad Mehldau Trio: Brad Mehldau (piano); Larry Grenadier (double bass); Jeff Ballard (drums) boo…Bring back Jorge Rossi on traps. Not the band at their best, to say the least. Mehldau has been Danny’s favorite pianist for quite some time, but we both left the concert feeling quite underwhelmed. Jeff Ballard is atrocious. I don’t know how he plays with all of the phenomenal musicians who hire him. At one point during the concert, Ballard got up from the drums and hit his head on the boom microphone above him, making a loud thump. What an idiot. Plus, when he was in Amherst playing with Miguel Zenon and Matt Penman (great musicians), some of the UMASS jazz guys told Danny that after the show Ballard asked them if they could get him high, which they graciously did…Just a funny anecdote… But seriously, this band did not concern itself with dynamics or interesting arrangements. They only relied on Mehldau’s amazing touch and great (but sparse) lines to breath a bit of life into the music. They also only played songs off their new album which isn’t that great, and didn’t play the two cool ones, both 90s alt rock covers, “Wonderwall” by Oasis and “Black Hole Sun” by Soundgarden. Here’s a video of the Brad Mehldau trio (with Jorge Rossi) when they sounded good, performing a cover of “Exit Music (For a Film),” written by Radiohead.
Thereafter, at 20:30, we saw the Antonio Sanchez Group, featuring Miguel Zenon (alto sax); David Sanchez (tenor sax); Scott Colley (double bass); and Antonio Sanchez (drums). All the music they played was written by A. Sanchez, and despite the perception about drummers not having the harmonic background to compose tunes well, dude has keyboard and songwriting chops and came up with some really interesting and drummer-friendly arrangements, proving the naysayers wrong.
To end the festival, at 23:00, we saw a group that Danny and Zlatan were surprised I had never heard of, a suprisingly good 80s jazz/world fusion band called Oregon. The band featured Paul McCandless (winds, every different kind of horn imaginable); Ralph Towner (piano, keyboards, synths and guitar); Glen Moore (bass, including upright electric…that’s one instrument); and Mark Walker (drums and a million different percussion chotchkies). Solid performance to cap off a good day and phenomenal festival.
Oregon
Today we started with the Kenny Werner Lawn chair Society at 17:30 (I’m officially on the 24 hour clock now), featuring David Sanchez (tenor sax); Randy Brecker (trumpet); Kenny Werner (piano); Scott Colley (bass); and the great Brian Blade (drums). Kenny Werner is a technical phenom and was great to see him live with such a great band.
Kenny Werner Lawnchair Society sans Brian Blade.
They played Werner’s music exclusively and he had some really nice charts. This also was the first time I’ve seen one of my heroes, Brian Blade, live, who was incredibly tasteful and really added to the music. Incidentally, despite not ever seeing Brian Blade live before, I was a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Ari Hoenig, who usually plays in Kenny Werner’s group, and who is my favorite drummer at the moment.
I was lucky enough to have seen Ari perform around 5 or 6 weeks ago at Smalls Jazz Club in Harlem, playing an incredible set with his partner-in-crime, the exciting French pianist, Jean Michel Pilc. I’ll take this opportunity to talk a bit about that Jean Michel Pilc Trio concert, as it was one of the most enjoyable jazz performances I’ve ever witnessed and want to document it. Forgive my self-indulgence, but this is blogging, and self-indulgence is the name of the game! I’ll preface this by saying that, to my ears, the Hoenig Pilc Project is one of the most creative and inventive jazz collaborations in existence, and I recommend their music to anyone interested in hearing cutting edge modern jazz. Check out the youtube video below and you’ll hear what I’m talking about, I hope.
After spending the day in NYC hanging with my former college bandmates YP and Jake, we met up with some other college/jazz buddies: Dave, Jack, and Austin and headed over to the club. We got there late into the set of the opening band and watched the last ten minutes or so of their set. After they finished, we walked outside to get some air. Outside of the club, the bouncer who we’d been chatting with told us that Ari was standing on the corner, ostensibly talking over the set list with J.M. Pilc on his cell phone. After feeling star-struck by a guy who walks around the street and is rarely recognized outside of the relatively small jazz community, YP and I waited for him to get off the phone and then went over to chat. I approached him by asking if he has a minute to speak with a fellow drummer from his rival high school, as he went to Germantown Friends and I went to Friends’ Central. After that, I told him how much his music means to me and then YP asked him if he takes requests. At first hesitantly, he responded “well, what did you have in mind.” We then told him that our band transcribed and performed his composition, the title track from his album “The Painter” last semester, and he told us he would see what he could do. We parted ways telling him we were looking forward to the concert.
Once the show was about to begin, Ari got up from his throne, walked over to Jean Michel, and said to him, “The Painter, first alright?” Thereafter, they played a highly energized rendition of the tune, similar to this version with Matt Penman on bass (an amazing player who I will talk more about later). This is part one of the three part youtube video (it’s worth watching the whole thing as this quartet has great chemistry.) The whole concert was just amazing and I can’t wait to hear this band again!
Sorry about the detour, back to where I left off. After Kenny Warner’s Lawnchair Society band, at 19:30, we saw another wizard on the keyboard, Michel Camilo, playing with a trio: Michel Camilo (piano); Charles Flores (bass); Dafnis Prieto (drums). This concert was some of the most intense and burning jazz I’ve ever seen. Michel was so forceful that during the show he even broke his piano bench and had to sit on a stool for the remainder of the set. To get a taste of Michel Camilo’s playing, check out this video of him performing Calle 54 with probably the best Latin Jazz drumset player in the world (whom we also saw perform at the festival, but not together unfortunately), Horacio “El Negro” Hernandez.
Before Michel Camilo’s set began, a guy randomly flagged us down to save the seat next to us for him as the place was filling up quickly. While he was walking over, another guy came up asking for the seat and we told him that it was taken. It turns out that the guy who we reserved the seat for was one of the chief designers of the Ahoy venue for the Festival, a Dutch guy named Hans. We chatted with him before the show.
It happened that the concert had great personal significance to Hans. He told us a story of how his mother used to take him to the North Sea Jazz Festival every year when he was younger, and that a few years ago when his mother was sick in the hospital and unable to attend the festival, he went without her and saw Michel Camilo perform. While the band was playing, he called his mom and held up the phone for over ten minutes so that she could share the festival with him one more time. She passed away a few days later. By the time he finished telling us the story, Hans was near tears. As a result of us accidentally saving him a great seat in the fifth row and center of the venue, Hans told us he felt indebted to us and that he wanted to return the favor. After the great concert, he said he would try to get us tickets to the VIP performers’ jam session at the hotel where all the musicians were staying, the Hilton Rotterdam.
Me and Danny hangin with Hans after the music had ended on Saturday Night.He bought both of us a beer and gave us the tickets at the end of the night. More on the jam session in a bit.
Thereafter, at 21:00, we saw the Randal Corsen Quintet (piano); Roy Hargrove (trumpet); Scott Colley (bass); Horacio “El Negro” Hernández (drums); Pernell Saturnino (percussion), a solid concert, but one that I won’t say more about.
Then, at 22:00, we left Hudson to go to a smaller stage and caught the tail end of the Christian McBride clinic. At the very end, when the legendary bassist was fielding questions, Danny raised his hand, and, noticing his bright orange shirt, McBride said, “I’m gonna take a question from my man in the striped shirt” – the infamous orange American eagle shirt in the photo to the right. Danny asked what he does harmonically when the soloist strays from the form. He responded that it is really a case-by-case determination; when he plays with someone like Joshua Redman, he explained, he strictly follows the form because that’s what Redman wants, but other times he will try to follow the soloist. Good question, Danny. After the talk, we approached McBride and he asked us if we were in the band that played before him based on our red Mafkees hostel wristbands (which looked like the performers’ wristbands). We should have lied. We also meant to ask him about the “bad night” he had six months ago that he mentioned at his concert at UMASS Amherst, but didn’t get around to that either.
At 23:00, we saw what was, in my opinion, the best concert of the festival (even though it was at a relatively smaller stage.) It was Joris Roelofs (clarinet, alto sax); Aaron Goldberg (piano); Matt Penman (bass); and Eric Harland (drums).
from left Aaron Goldberg, Matt Penman, Eric Harland, and some random Dutch sax player named Roeloffs.
Aaron Goldberg, Eric Harland, and Matt Penman are some of the best modern players on the scene. They were forced to play with a guy Eric Harland described to us as “some dude,” a dutch saxophonist who didn’t fit in with the band. Killer concert anyway. After the concert, we hung with Matt and Eric backstage. I told Eric: “I’ve seen you play 4 or 5 times now and every time I’ve been blown away by you.” We also had a brief exchange with Aaron Goldberg who is a great dude who is kinda dorky, but very down to earth considering his success. He is an amazing pianist and was very nice to us.
Also, we talked to Matt Penman for a long time and even got someone to take a picture of us with him. He’s a total bro. We asked him where he’s going after this, and he said he was off to Prague and then Nice. He also asked us where we were going from the festival. When we mentioned Marseilles, he told us to come see him play with the San Fransisco Jazz Collective (an all star group, with the likes of Miguel Zenon, Joe Lovano, and Eric Harland) in Nice at the Jazz festival that was about to happen there. He also told us to be sure to drink the local wine in Marseilles (we took him up on that). Unfortunately,our prior arrangements made it impossible to get to the Nice Jazz Festival, as we had a non-refundable flight scheduled to Dublin two days before the Nice festival started (otherwise we totally would have done it).
By this point, our heads were spinning, as, in the period of two hours we had talked to several of our idols and, undoubtedly some of the best jazz musicians on the scene, Christian McBride, Eric Harland, Aaron Goldberg, Matt Penman. But that’s not all…
Me and Danny with Matt Penman after his performance with Eric Harland and Aaron Goldberg.
At 2am we attended the VIP North Sea Jam Session at the Hilton Hotel and stayed out until 5am and walked back to the hostel as the sun was rising (yet another romantic moment, Danny).
At the jam, we saw such celebrity musicians as Horatio “El Negro” Hernandez, Matt Penman (who left right as we entered, a big shame as we had talked with him earlier and had hoped to touch based with him again, left), and Aaron Goldberg. We watched Aaron Goldberg jam and hit on some women at the Jam Session and, once he was done with that, we exchanged a few words. Danny worked up the courage to try to sit in, but too many vocalists ruined this possibility (friggin’ vocalists! I kid, I kid:). Still, it was an awesome experience and capped off an epic, inspiring, and overwhelming day of music.
By the time we went back to the hostel, we decided that we might as well stay up and eat the free breakfast that started at 7am before going to sleep. When we woke up at 14:00, we ate lunch and then directly headed off to see to go see another 8 hours of jazz, as the festival ran from approximately 16:00 to midnight each of the three days.
After Spain, Danny and me split off from Dre for a few days (while he frantically tried to finish his finals for his courses that he had been neglecting for five weeks) and headed to Rotterdam, Netherlands to spend three days at the North Sea Jazz Festival, the largest indoor jazz festival in the world. Over thirty thousand people fed into the huge Ahoy concert venue each of the three days, and it was unlike any music festival I’ve ever been to. An amazing experience.
Where's Danny? At the massive Ahoy Concert Venue
During our stay in Rotterdam, we lived at a huge, packed hostel called Mafkees, right next to Rotterdam central station. The giant, dilapidated building had fifty person rooms, cost ten euros a night plus free breakfast of coffee, tea, bread, pb, and jam. Each morning, we loaded up on sandwiches (incidentally one day we woke up for breakfast at 9, quickly ate three peanut butter sandwiches and fell back asleep until 2 in the afternoon). Mafkees proved to be a surprisingly pleasant and safe hostel considering the enormous dorm rooms and lack of aesthetic appeal. Most of the people staying there were also going to the North Sea Jazz Festival and we made quite a few friends whom we went to the festival with, particularly Zlatan, a German dude who Studies in Siberia, and who has an encyclopedic knowledge about modern jazz. We talked with him for hours on end about the stuff any time the music wasn’t on. Great dude who we hope to stay in touch with. We also spent time with Leo and Chaz, two jazzers from London who seemed content to booze, smoke weed and listen to jazz all day (stereotypical jazz musicians), very cool dudes, as well.
Me and Danny with Zlatan at Mafkees on the last morning of the Festival.
Friday, July 11, 2008 marked our first full day, which we spent almost exclusively at the enormous Hudson Stage. As a result of our loyalty to this stage, we sat in the second to fifth rows in the center for all of the concerts.
At 17:30, we started with Maria Schneider and her great Orchestra. While I’m not too into big band music, her ensemble’s great modern arrangements, flawless execution and good solos kept me interested throughout.
Maria Schneider, Sky Blue Cover.
This was the second time I’ve seen them (first was at UMASS) and I was very impressed. Plus, She’s a babe (right).
Thereafter, at 19:30, we saw a great group called the Charles Lloyd Quartet: Charles Lloyd (Alto Flute, Tenor Sax); Jason Moran (Piano); Reuben Rogers (Bass); and the great Eric Harland (Drums). Unfortunately, We could hardly hear Jason Moran (who is a baller). The acoustics were bad in the second row (as bizarre as that sounds) as the speakers were basically behind us and the sound crew was struggling with the levels throughout. Nevertheless, and per usual, Eric Harland stole the show with his active and endlessly creative drumming.
Then, at 21:00, still at Hudson, we saw the Hank Jones 90th Birthday Concert. Unfortunately, Hank Jones was absent (sick). The group featured Roy Hargrove, a total goof (judging by how he acted on stage) and killer modern player, who stuck out like a sore thumb with this traditional group. Not a great band, but Roy Hargrove was highly entertaining.
The RH Factor
At one point, after taking a great solo over an otherwise hokie version of “The Sunny Side of the Street,” RH grabbed the mic and delivered a hilarious scat/vocal chorus that appeared to be on a whim and made the concert worthwhile.
22:45 Herbie Hancock Quintet (not a traditional or particularly functional group).
Herbie Hancock (Piano, Keyboards, Keytar man!); Chris Potter (Sax); Lionel Loueke (guitar); Dave Holland (bass); and Vinnie Colaiuta (drum machine), actually drum set, but he might as well have been a machine.
Although Dave Holland and Chris Potter were in this group, and are some of the finest and most respectable jazz musicians on the planet, this group did not work, and they should not have subjected themselves to this form of debasement. Several times thoughout the gig, either when Herbie played the Keytar or was doodling with his stupid keyboards too much and getting in the way of their attempts to make real music out of his trash, they would exchange a glance that said “This is awful, get me out of here.” While Herbie used to be a respectable and great musician, he has gone completely commercial and his chops are almost nonexistent at this point. Several times throughout the performance I saw him check his watch and I even have a great picture of him looking at his watch while playing some stupid gimmicky crap on the keytar (below, right).
Herbie playing Keytar and checking his watch, clearly he was bored.
His concern for the time is quite ironic as his time was pretty poor. During the tune they played in 13 (that sounded awful), it was very clear that he was unable to hold it together and looked to his guitarist on several occasions to find the downbeat. Dave Holland was reserved to a basic timekeeping function (which is very uncharacteristic for him), and he even was forced to play electric (which he never does) and repeat the stupid “Chameleon” vamp 8 thousand times. Entertaining stuff nonetheless. Plus, when you could actually hear Chris Potter over Herbie’s gimmicks, he played some incredible stuff. I had never seen him live before so I was happy to see him in any capacity, as he is a rare talent.
If only Herbie could get back to his pre-80s self, before Miles’ “experiment” in jazz/rock fusion ruined him (and almost ruined the great Wayne Shorter, as well). One promising moment was in Herbie’s piano introduction to “Cantelope Island” when he quoted the melody to one of his great early compositions from his 1965 quintet album with Ron Carter, Tony Williams, Freddie Hubbard, and George Coleman, “Maiden Voyage” entitled “Dolphin Dance.” However, we were, yet again, severely disappointed when he opted for the commercial hit instead.
At Midnight, we finally left Hudson to see Jill Scott at Maas Stage; She completely redeemed the night after Herbie’s garbage. Jilly from Philly tore the roof off the concert hall. What an awesome performance, very tight rhythm section and brass. She was an amazing entertainer and motivational speaker and the energy level was incredible.
Jilly from Philly
Nearly all of the thousands of audience members were dancing to her hip, funky music. Also, her voice is so great. Note to self, I need to get more of her music pronto, and recommend others do as well.
We arrived in San Sebastian at 7am on a rainy, cold Sunday morning (on July 8th). We needed to kill time until our noon pickup at the surf shop by the “European Backpackers” aka “Smashed Travel” group. As no businesses or indoor public spaces were open between the hours of 7 am and 10 am, we were, for all intents and purposes, homeless. I took off my shorts to change into pants outside.
Me and Danny expressing our doubts about making it to surf camp.
We found a stoop outside of a bank and begged for money unsuccessfully from the few people who were awake. Finally, after feeling cold, wet, and hungry and not sure how much longer we would make it (a huge exaggeration obv.) we noticed that several of the passerbyers were carrying massive baguettes and found the one bread and coffee place in town where we could get food, warmth, and shelter. We spent two hours there, ate three loaves of bread and loaded ourselves up on lots of tea. We also paid in small change and were asked if we got the money by begging, kinda true and not surprising that the waitress would ask judging by our appearances. Thereafter, we walked into the surf shop that finally opened to kill even more time. We tried on clothing that Bret from Flight of the Concords would buy, tried out the skateboards and hackey-sacked (both inside the store, which definitely pissed off the dude who was working there.) Once we got bored and tired, we found another café to loiter in. We didn’t buy anything there and only slept for half an hour. Finally were picked up by Jules at noon, after trying to guess for nearly an hour who Toby with a van would be. We were pleasantly surprised when (s)he, Jules, arrived, as Smashed Travel seemed pretty disorganized up to this point.
Jules- a woman (perhaps), was truly androgynous. Tall, lean, powerful surf instructor with chiseled body and pronounced jaw line. “A true bro. More of a man than I will ever be. What a dude” (some of the jokes we made about her). We liked him a lot.
The “Smashed Travel Surfari” itself- This Surf camp was recommended by our good friend Kelsy (only to later find out that she never actually Surfed but recommended it because she had a romantic fling and loved the drinking culture). Nevertheless, good call, Kelsy, we had an awesome time, for some of the same and some different reasons. The camping site was right by the ocean and we enjoyed a three days/two nights all-inclusive Surfari experience. The delicious food was cooked by a former chef and current surfer bro named Tony. They provided unlimited drinks (beer and sangria) and no surf instruction whatsoever, a 10 minute “dry” lesson notwithstanding, despite the 10 foot waves crashing on our heads. Approximately 15 campers were there during our stay and almost all of them were women.
An interesting and not so funny (at the time anyway) story from the trip is that we were told we would be surfing in San Sebastian (in Northern Spain) as advertised on fliers, so we did not bring our passports with us. Turns out we ended up crossing the border into France to Surf in Biarritz, a beautiful coastal city with huge surf (so we weren’t complaining).
The view of the coastline at Biarritz
Not having our passports with us in a foreign country caused Danny and me much anxiety. But, in the end, we safely made it back to our passports in Barcelona as it didn’t even appear that there was any border security or checkpoint between Spain and France.
Back to surf camp. All of the instructors had crazy pseudonyms, such as Smacks, One and Cha Cha. For three days, Dre, Danny, and I were referred to as Bull, Chick’n, and Cheese, based on our respective hometowns, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Louisville (figure it out). Incidentally, when we weren’t Bull, Chick’n and Cheese and felt like using fake names throughout our stay in Europe, we were Andres, Rafael, and Giuseppe (as Andres is already an “exotic” name).
showin the guns on the beach with other campers...surf's up!
The surf itself- We surfed for two full days and mainly caught the white water waves (after the huge deep waves had already broken) to learn the technique, which was still pretty intimidating as the undertow and waves themselves were extremely powerful and the only instruction we were given was this 10 minute beach technique lesson.
This Cali surfer bro describes the surf better than I ever could. We got like sooo barrelled and sooo pitted, man! By the end of the second full day of surfing, I decided to swim out to where the waves were breaking and try to catch one of the enormous waves as they crashed. Once I got out to where the waves were crashing, I got in position and decided to try to take a huge one in. I caught it at just the right time to get to the top of the wave. Unfortunately, when I attempted to stand on the board I was too far forward and nosedived. The wave crashed down on me and I was submerged for about 20 seconds (which felt like a lifetime) and swallowed some water. After swimming to the surface, feeling very disoriented, and being off of the board at this point, successive waves kept coming down on me, pulling me under for up to 20 seconds at a time only for the next wave to come crashing down on me. To make matters worse, the undertow was strong, making it difficult to swim any closer to shore. Also, nobody knew that I was out there, which made it doubly scary. After panicking for several minutes, I got my senses together and was able to get on my board and body surf one of the waves in. I chilled on the beach for a while until I felt confident enough to get back in. Then, after calming down, I realized that surf time was waning and got back on the horse for the last hour of surf.
Smashed Pub Crawl- One of the nights, our trip organizers offered a pub crawl to three different bars. At each one we were given free drinks. Our champ, Dre, participated in two different drinking competitions, winning one, and he would have won the other if Titus from Amsterdam didn’t blow the boat race. We’re proud of you nonetheless, Dre.
After surf camp, we came very close to planning a day trip to Pamplona, which is an hour from San Sebastian, and is where the world famous Running of the Bulls festivities occur each summer in early July. The week long celebration was taking place at the very time that we were there, but it got too complicated to get there and ultimately fell through…So in the end, we couldn’t quite live up to Hemingway, too bad.
During the past week and a half we’ve stayed at a really hip Hostel where they played good jazz and alt rock during the day, called Itaca, near Plaza Catalonia. At the hostel we met tons of cool people like the Cali girls Johanna and Chelsea. Dre fell in love with Johanna and plans to marry her. We also met–and I fell in love with–a German girl named Anissa Wolf, who we spent lots of time with, as well as an awesome German dude with a name we couldn’t pronounce, but called Harry.
Harry, Danny, Dre, and me.
We went clubbing with all of them as well as a bunch of the people in Dre’s program. On two different occasions we went to a huge and crazy two-floored nightclub called Otto Zutz. It’s a great club and we got free passes both times. We pregamed with people from Dre’s program so we never spent a cent at the club. We stayed out till 4 or 5 in the AM both times. Also, on the second Tuesday night, we went to a Jazz club/discothèque late with Anissa and the two Cali Girls called Jamboree, danced for hours and had a great time.
To make Barcelona that much cooler, during our stay, Spain was successfully making its bid for the Euro Cup Championship. We watched the final game against Germany from outside of a bar on an awesome strip called Las Ramblas. Las Ramblas is considered the tourist heart of the city, and is a cool place to see street performers (specifically the pantomimes which Dre loved…not). La Boqueria market on Las Ramblas is a really cool marketplace, voted “the world’s most important marketplace” by the International Association of City Markets. One of our last days, we ate a great fresh fish lunch with two girls from Texas from Dre’s program at one of the restaurants attached to the La Boqueria marketplace and walked around all of the venders.
Now, back to the Euro cup. On the night of June 29th, after Spain beat Germany 1-0, there were huge celebrations. We were videotaped by local news partaking in the victory chants (singing olay olay).
The view from Las Ramblas after the game.
Beer was sold on the street in Las Ramblas, fireworks went off everywhere, people were yelling “Viva Espana”, singing victory chants, and draping themselves in Spanish flags. Needless to say, it was an awesome experience and I felt great pride for my very temporary nation of residence.
Also, in Barcelona, we all developed our addictions to Schwarma kebabs. We ate this middle eastern delicacy almost every day for the week and a half because they satisfied all of our dietary needs. The food is inexpensive, filling, delicious and quick. By the end of our tour of the city, we were practically regulars at a few doner kabab joints and stands (and had many a stomach ache).
Some romantic/date-worthy tourist activities that Danny and me took part in while Dre was in school include: a trip to the chocolate factory. A trip to the aquarium that was noteworthy for the viewing tunnels to the shark tanks. We rented bikes and rode along the boardwalk on the coast at Barceloneta and through Cieutadella Park, befriending the alcoholic bike rental dude. This guy, after spending a full day of drinking wine and smoking in his shop (he was doing both when we rented bikes and when we came back several hours later), basically gave us a history lesson on state vs. national tensions in Spain, which was cool even though we didn’t ask for it.. We also swam out to and climbed onto a patch of rocks in the ocean and took long walks on the beach while holding hands (not exactly).
Checkin' out the fountain show.
Barcelona tourist activities that we shared with Dre (the third wheel) included: a walk through Park Guell, which I think I mentioned already. We went to the Sagrada Familia, which is the most famous spot in Barcelona, a huge, ridiculously ornate cathedral designed over a forty year period by Antoni Gaudi, which he was unable to finish in his lifetime. The Cathedral is still under construction 100 years later. You can climb or take elevator to the top for spectacular city views. We also toured the National Museum of Catalan Art, watched the night time fountain show from the steps of the Museum (overlooking the entire city) with some of the students from Dre’s program, and saw a modern European jazz performance (the group’s name is eluding me) at a venue at one of the highest points in the city, near the Olympic Stadium.
On the steps to the NMCA, overlooking the entire city, with people from Dre's program.
Additionally, we went to the Picasso Museum and took a guided tour of the Palau Musica Catalana. In sum: beautiful women, delicious kebabs (and tapas once or twice), great beaches, amazing public transportation, plus cool cultural events and nightlife, made for a most excellent time.
