IF YOU’RE LOUD, YOU’RE LOVED
When Trombone Shorty played last month at Cain Park, in Cleveland Heights, he was loud. I didn’t take out a decibel reader but the show was ear-splitting. And I was wearing earplugs. Trombone Shorty frenetically ran around saying, “Let’s get crazy!” and “How you feeling? Feeling Good!” He played mostly super-loud funk and not much New Orleans brass-band music.
Trombone Shorty
Why did I go? Because I like the name “Trombone Shorty.” If Shorty had been Joe Smith, I probably wouldn’t have gone. [What’s Shorty’s real name? . . . Troy Andrews.] I like New Orleans brass-band jazz. I don’t like rock-level blasting. Two guitars, electric bass, loud drums, no sousaphone.
Eleven years ago I was in New Orleans on vacation, and I sat in with some pro musicians on Jackson Square. Trumpeter Kenny Terry had a slick ensemble which entertained tourists on the square. I went back to my hotel room, got my axe, and — heads-up, Kenny — here I am!
Terry said, “Where you from — Kansas?” Close enough. He announced to the crowd: “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest from Cleveland!”
Cleveland was good business for Terry; eyeballs focused on the white guy with the clarinet. Tip-jar activity increased. There were about 100 people.
We did a Bb blues. I didn’t project enough; I had a thin sound, at least for outdoors. Kenny said, “You got to play with some balls!” That hurt.
I said, “I have this cheap plastic reed!”
The word in New Orleans is “If you’re loud, you’re loved.” (Phil Frazier, of Rebirth, said that.)
Back home in Cleveland, I bought a new, louder clarinet barrel so I could played with “some balls.” Trombone Shorty, at Cain Park, played with a lot of balls. He should have stuck with two.
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I’ve disliked loud music for a long time — way before I became an old crank. My freshman roommate at college was into the MC5. I convinced him to move out of our room. Then I got a roommate who liked Jefferson Airplane. That didn’t work out well, either. Pure jazz — that was my thing. The blues, too. My third — and final — roommate was into nothing musically, and we got along fine.
So I had three roommates my freshman year. Does that say anything about me? Nothing! (Screeched at a high decibel.)
5 comments
You showed balls in turning up out of nowhere to busk with a local star. And I was an MC5 fan, but that was from seeing them live. Their first album (which I bought unknownst to you) was a disappointment. And, yes, I played it loud.
I had the nerve to sit in with the local star because I had seen a terrible tourist-drummer sit in. The bandleader loved the drummer — tip-wise. Made fun of him. Just like the bandleader did with me.
I went through a lot of roommates my freshman year, too. I was not a good person to live with in those days. But, I’ve never liked really loud music. And despite wanting to love them, never much liked MC5. Never saw them live. But the Airplane? They were great. Don’t you be dissing my band!
Last night I heard a really good bluegrass band that played really good klezmer as well. They were not loud. And the klezmer sounded like klezmer, and the bluegrass like bluegrass. I liked that.
Agree with above — Jefferson Airplane was great. Still great, as my vinyl collection reminds me.
Good piece, Bert.
For years now my favorite New Orleans band has been, probably always will be, Tuba Skinny. Search for them on YouTube to see what I mean.
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