Daily Archives: December 6, 2014


The National Weather Service noted a discernable increase in MOONGLOW around 10:15 PM in Southern California.  The reason is clear.

When this group took the stand on Saturday night, November 29, at the 35th San Diego Jazz Fest, we knew that celestial events were going to happen.

The leader, pianist / singer / composer Ray Skjelbred, is known to transcend the earthly realm, and he had colleagues of the same mind with him: Marc Caparone, cornet; Jim Buchmann, clarinet and saxello; Katie Cavera, rhythm guitar; Beau Sample, string bass; Hal Smith, drums.

Together they made the room glow:

Was it their evocation of the Ellingtonian roots (with some Basie-Stacy touches) of this song?  Or a fond dream of some vanished Fifty-Second Street?  Or their unspoken assertion that jazz music must be “sweet, soft, plenty rhythm”?  Or were they simply delighting in the music and sharing that delight with us?  I can’t pinpoint the origins of this remarkable phenomenon — clouds of romance floating by in swingtime, the musicians making old stories new without a cliche anywhere.  But this performance lifts me up to the celestial realm.  I hope you enjoy it, too.

This group doesn’t have its own CD, a record contract, a concert tour — all evidence of this century’s slight attention to beauty.  But there will be more videos.  You can depend on it.

May your happiness increase!


In my childhood, my parents were towering figures — ever-present, vocal, impossible to ignore.  I was so busy interacting with them that daily routines drove out the possibility for deeper introspection about them.  I had only to venture out of my room and there they were.  Even if they were not physically present, they were my interior soundtrack — approving or disapproving, lecturing, reminding, explaining.

But they are now physically absent, although spiritually present.  As I age, I wish I could speak candidly with them, to ask the questions my younger self was unable to phrase and they might have been unwilling to answer.  My parents now seem characters in an unwritten novel, unpredictable, complicated beings I muse over. They have taken their secrets with them, but I imagine their spirits approving of my efforts to understand, my willingness to keep them alive in my thoughts.

I believe that other adult children feel as I do.

I have always been especially interested by the children of jazz musicians, whose parents must have been equally fascinating but perhaps more inscrutable, because of atypical nocturnal lives. So I am particularly intrigued to learn of a new documentary in the making, WARNE MARSH: AN IMPROVISED LIFE — not only because I admire the music that saxophonist Marsh created, but because the documentary is being made by his adult son, K.C. Marsh.

Details (and a short video) here.

I have some ambivalence about putting appeals-for-money into this blog, but I applaud K.C.’s efforts to make this film — both as a tribute to a musician who should be known more widely, and as his own effort to find out who his father was and is.  (So, yes, I have sent a little money of my own.)

Here is a sample of Warne’s music — he, Paul Chambers, string bass; Philly Joe Jones, drums, playing JUST SQUEEZE ME in 1958:

I look forward to K.C. Marsh’s attempt to understand both that floating sound and the man who made it.  Perhaps, as he comes to comprehend his father, it will help others of us unlock the lives of our parents as well. For their sake and for ours.

May your happiness increase!