Last night I dreamt that Hargrove died. A man I had never met, a voice I had barely listened to, had caused the moon to drop from the sky. The screams that were produced in me were an all encompassing wind. The sky began to change color, a bleeding red in the clouds and an inconsistent yellow in the trees. A majestic and delicate family member had slipped into darkness.
I love jazz because next to my kids, it's the love of my life.
I was first exposed to jazz by Joe Rico from a tiny station in Niagara Falls in 1954 when I was 13.
The best show I ever attended was Maynard Ferguson who blew the roof off Massey Hall in the late 50s.
My advice to new listeners is to listen to everything you can and then listen again.