The Era I Almost Missed - An Autobiography

The Era I Almost Missed -An Autobiography
Ron Aprea
245 Pages
ISBN: # 978-1-6678015-0-6
Self Published
2021

Jazz musicians are an oral bunch. Freud, although he despised music, would have had a field day studying them. Their autobiographies tend to fall into a handful of categories. Some read as if you're reading the phone book—a litany of names and places ad nauseam. Others tend to become more personally revealing as they detail the trials and tribulations of the "Jazz Life." Among the most noteworthy and best written autobiographies are works such as Art Pepper's Straight Life (Schirmer Books, 1979), Quincy Jones' Q (Broadway Books, 2002), and Hampton Hawes' Rise Up Off Me (Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, 1974). Each of these provides canyon-deep insights into the men, their psyches, loves and loves lost, and, of paramount importance, their music.

Jazz saxophonist, arranger, and producer, Ron Aprea's The Era I Almost Missed is an involving, and at times, quite touching examination of the man's illustrious jazz life. All of the various experiences of his celebrated three-plus score career are written in a highly communicative and engaging style. It reads as if Aprea is speaking to you as an old, trusted friend. And, by book's end, you might just feel that way.

Aprea comes across as an honest and open soul. He speaks with genuineness of his career highs and lows, his confidence and bouts of diffidence. Perhaps the most noteworthy element that threads through the book is the way he presents things in a most human and sincere way. No braggadocio here, Aprea opens up on all the good, the great, the humorous, and the quirky aspects of his career. He's a jazz Everyman for whom you can't help cheering through times good and those not so.

Aprea's was somewhat of a nomadic life working from gig to gig, with some—like his stints with Lionel Hampton—longer than others, and some being the quickest of quick hits. His interactions with well-known leaders—situations positive, otherwise, and a couple even dangerous!—as well as interactions with band mates, make for terrific reading. Artists such as Count Basie saxophone stalwart, Frank Foster, Lionel Hampton, Pat Rizzo, Steve Madaio, and many others play pivotal roles along Aprea's journey. Further, his work with Foster and Hampton—each of whom became long-term close friends—as well as Aprea's Gospel work validates that both they and Ron Aprea were men who were invoking the absolute best of the "Brotherhood of Man."

The book is written in chronological order with Aprea's's early life in Queens, New York detailed. That period, heavily family-oriented, sets Aprea on a vector where hard work, core values to family, dedication to one's art, and personal integrity would lead to his successes down the road. The brevity of the book's chapters—actually anecdotes with helpful brief bios—might well lead readers to eagerly inquire "Who and what's coming next in this guy's great adventure?"

All of the stops on the jazzer's train are here in spades—Birdland, the New York studios, the Apollo, Broadway, L.A., the road, "day gigs," and all the late and later nights in clubs large and small; performing with great leaders and some less so and, dealing with shysters out to use, abuse, and generally screw. Aprea's writing has an involving "You Are There" feel to it (the most noteworthy example is his description of recording with and getting a souvenir from John Lennon). You feel his joy and his pain—just as you'd expect Aprea, as the great jazz soloist he is, to express.

The Era I Almost Missed is a great jazz read that hooks hard. Musicians will certainly relate to and enjoy it. Those not in the game will get an inside peek and a layperson's understanding of why these artists do what they do, why they sacrifice so much, and, if good fortune allows, reap the artistic and other benefits. The era might have almost been missed, but this is one book definitely not to be.

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