What Do I Know? The Band

There's not a lot of live jazz on radio, and having worked with John and Jeff all these years I now know why. Oh, I'm very fond of them, and they're both great guys, but, let's face it, they belong to the species Homo musicus (musical man) a slightly gnarly branch of the evolutionary tree. Having known a lot of them over the years, the thing that continues to startle me about your typical musician is his superiority complex. I mean, with surgeons you could understand it, but these are guys who don't have your life in their hands, they have your sister. They live off nurses, legal assistants and other working women and take perverse pride in not holding a job. Speaking strictly of the male of the species, he went into music in the first place as a way to meet women and, much to the rest of our chagrin(s), it works.

Every musician has a vein of women in love with his instrument; their job -- mine it. There are women who love drummers, women who love keyboard players!, even (shudder) women who love bass players. Although I haven't met one, I am sure there are women who love timpanists. Since music is the universal language, it works on women everywhere.

Let it also be said that musicians also attract those who would like to reap the benefits of the profession without the inconvenience of learning to play, and I'm not just saying this because I've shlepped an amp or two in my day. This generally doesn't work; you're better off trying to make a lot of money, which is also a biological advantage, times being what they are (then you will have the additional artistic opportunity to loan money to a musician; see debts, uncollectible).

Despite this (or because of it) there is the music, which, in the case of John and Jeff (and Brother Clyde on the road) is certainly good if you like that kind of thing. And a lot of people do. Every time I toy with the idea of changing to a folk or champagne music format, they come out of the woodwork in legions.

I myself enjoy the spontaneous nature of jazz, and, even after hearing the same songs dozens of times, I still feel that way. Bass solos I can live without, but it's better than having the guy talk. John and Jeff (or Mutt and . . . as we affectionately call them among ourselves) are kind of like a couple, squabbling, making up, squabbling again. But when they get together something magical happens; someday, I predict, this will happen in the music, too.