Mr. P.C.'s Guide to Jazz Etiquette and Bandstand Decorum

ICYMI

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 “𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵.” 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨?

—𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘺

Dear TT:

The problem isn’t that you’re going to die, much as you might want to. Your last note is the note you just played, right? So if you play every note like it’s your last, you’ll be stuck playing the same note over and over again for the rest of your monotonous life, no matter how long you live.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦? 𝘖𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?

—𝘗𝘶𝘵 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘦

Dear PWNYWH:

If you play songs the audience members recognize, they’re more likely to notice all your mistakes. But if you play originals, how can they possibly tell? Needless to say, that takes all the fun out of it for them. Before long they’ll leave—the party’s over—and that’s a good thing! You’re free to play whatever you want, even standards, safe from criticism.

Originals are essentially a form of crowd control; artists who don’t write their own material place themselves at the audience’s mercy.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴?

—𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘢

Dear Confused:

Once targeted consumers have spent their life savings on the most expensive cars and booze, they have no money for things like personal hygiene and upkeep. Jazz is all they have left, and it continues to humiliate them.

That’s why you’ll find them in dingy clubs, downing second-hand beer and scraps of food from mugs and plates left behind by wealthier, healthier people who headed home as soon as they heard what jazz actually sounds like. For those who made that quick escape, their maiden live jazz experience will serve as an inoculation, both protecting them from the future lure of jazz advertising and keeping them at a safe distance from those who have already succumbed.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭? —𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳

Dear DD:

You always have two choices: play with musicians worse than you and elevate their music, or play with musicians better than you and drag them down. From a moral perspective the choice is obvious.

Musicians are often advised to surround themselves with the best players available, but that’s utterly selfish, using “personal growth” as an excuse to degrade the music.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 “𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥” 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘰 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵? —𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘳

Dear Landlubber:

What is a “desert island”? Aren’t islands supposed to be surrounded by water? Don’t deserts by definition have no water? The hard truth is that an island in the desert is nothing but more desert. No food, water or shelter, and certainly no audio system.

Your “friends” are mocking you, Landlubber. There are no desert islands, and you have no real friends. Your life, as you know it, is simply a mirage. I’m so sorry.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢 “𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦” 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦? —𝘑𝘦𝘧𝘧

Dear Jeff:

That will work exactly once, after which they’ll do the math, make the adjustment, and get right back to showing up late. From there all you can do is keep moving the “start time” forward another hour for each new gig. But at a certain point, you’ll be telling them to show up the day before your gig, and that’s where you run into trouble: What if they’re already booked that day?

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩? —𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘈𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘵

Dear PARIS:

How could they possibly understand you if you s**t in English? Find recordings of good French s**t solos and transcribe them—that’s the best way to internalize the language.

If that doesn’t work for you, you 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 get away with s**tting in English as long as you use your best French accent.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭. 𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?

—𝘝𝘶𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘤

Dear VV:

Don’t be so hard on yourself—it’s not that people don’t value you as a person, they just don’t like you as a musician. And while it’s true that music—even when it’s as unlikable as yours—reveals the deepest parts of one’s soul, you apparently have superficial personality traits that people don’t mind at all.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴: 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴! 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯? —𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘓𝘰𝘶, 𝘓𝘰𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢

Dear LLL:

If the guests were really that loud, being right up against you was the only way they could possibly hear you. You were there to provide background music, and it wouldn’t really be background music if they couldn’t hear it, would it? Nor would it be background music if they were quietly listening! The guests did 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 what it took to make the gig 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 what it was supposed to be, even over the objections of three employees with delusions of grandeur.

𝗛𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘈 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 “𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.” “𝘈𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦” 𝘪𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺.

𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘴—𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨?

—𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘉𝘺 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴

Dear Shaken:

I don’t need to explain the spiritual power of the drum circle; we’ve all basked in its magic glow. But you know who never gets to feel those healing vibes? Rich old people! Burning Man, tie-dye, hippie culture—rich old people may diss those at their corporate retreats, but they’re secretly jealous. To them, it’s all part of a distant and exotic sphere far beyond their reach, a rare place where money can’t buy access.

You know what else these rich old people had never done? Made music! Now they finally got their chance, all because your percussionist somehow reached across the cultural divide and brought them over. Consider the miracle of it: suddenly you were making joyful sounds with these musical magnates, and for the first time ever they treated you almost as an equal!

Sometimes music can be so much more than mere notes. Hats off to the manager for recognizing what you apparently missed: a metaphysical, cultural, sociological, and socioeconomic breakthrough.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘔𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘤𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘭?

—𝘉𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘐𝘯 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯

Dear BIB:

Let’s be fair. Not knowing anything about music shouldn’t disqualify that guy unless it disqualifies your drummer too. Conversely, if the guy 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 disqualified, his opinion stands and the drummer gets the boot; the drummer’s out either way.

This no-win situation beautifully illustrates the futility of a life spent hitting things.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰:

1) 𝘚𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰?

2) 𝘎𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨?

3) 𝘎𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯?

4) 𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵? —𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯

Dear Middleman:

Their time issues are symptomatic of a dysfunctional and potentially abusive relationship. The bassist is desperately trying to get away from the drummer, while the drummer insistently pulls him back. So before you take action, you need to thoroughly assess the situation. If you bring them together, will the bassist be safe? Will you, along with any other musicians in the group, be capable of subduing the drummer if necessary? And would you, in essence, be normalizing behavior that instead needs to be radically modified?

Taking the drummer’s side could be catastrophic, and this is no time for compromise or half measures either; you need to join the bassist. As the two of you speed away, treat yourself to the occasional glance back. You’ll see the drummer struggling furiously, getting smaller and quieter until he no longer poses a threat to anyone but himself.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 “𝘜𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘔𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱.” 𝘈𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘜𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘔𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘹 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 "𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳.” 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦:

"𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘴. 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘹𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳.

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘺𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘮𝘪𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦.”

𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘞𝘛𝘍? —𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘎𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱

Dear Stopped:

This is fantastic! Although some saxophonists might resent the NIH equating sax playing with “straining during defecation,” we now know, for the first time, that both can improve heart health. This, in turn, explains “altissimo,” an unpleasant squeaky sound favored by only the most health-conscious players. It’s the product of simultaneously tightening their embouchures and straining to defecate, and sounds just like that!

Extra health rewards go to those straining hard enough to turn purple; that’s a common sight among practitioners of altissimo, henceforth known as “the sound of a puckered butt.”

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘉𝘪𝘨 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵: 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦? —𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘤

Dear Quizzical:

You make it sound as if being nice compromises a jazz musician’s playing—and you’re absolutely right. Like it or not, the best musicians just don’t have time to concern themselves with interpersonal niceties. They may be gruff, ignore or even offend you, but you know why? So they can make your life better with their music!

The less they concern themselves with your feelings, the more time they have to practice altered dominant licks. And you should know by now—as they do—that there’s nothing more uplifting to a listener than the sound of advanced harmonic theory.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵? —𝘔𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘈𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘒𝘦𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dear MASK:

Don’t you play better knowing you’re looking your best? Put the music first, and don’t even 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 showing your flawed face!

And there’s no reason to stop with the mask. You can take your looks and playing to the next level with face paint, mummy tape, camouflage or even vantablack--whatever you can do to hide as much of yourself as possible. You’ll look better, you’ll sound better, and for once the audience will actually notice the difference!

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨? —𝘑.𝘗., 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢

Dear J.P.:

On the surface, at least, this is pretty obvious. Right now I’m in a writing state, so I’m writing. Tonight I’ll be in a reading state, so I’ll read. If I were in a swing state, would I play swing? You bet! When else would I swing better? And for the same reason, if I were in a blue state I’d play the blues.

What’s interesting is that there are actual parts of our country known as” swing states,” and of course if you were living there, you’d always try to swing, whether you were in a mental swing state or not. You could still play other kinds of music; they’d just wind up swing-inflected, and that’s not always a good thing. Take “swing state” Wisconsin, for example: When oom-pah-pah meets chang-chanka-chang, is it polka with a swing feel, swing with a polka feel, or some ungodly hybrid of the two?

It’s cultural clashes like this that have brought “swing states” to the attention of political analysts. They’ve even co-opted the term, using it to describe any state where opposing factions are in an unhealthy and precarious balance.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘉𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘗𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 “𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴” 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 “𝘐𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘜𝘳𝘨𝘦” 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘴𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 “𝘝𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘨𝘦.” 𝘔𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥? —𝘛𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘖𝘶𝘵

Dear Tuned:

Instead of dragging your family from one state to another, wouldn’t it be easier to just learn the “extra” tune where you’re living? No matter where you are, “Satin Doll” and “Take the A Train” won’t be enough, but that’s no reason to pack up and leave.

What you’re missing is the big picture: Tunes are just a bunch of notes and chords, then there are scales and licks that go over the chords, then the starting notes happen again, in the same order, at the end. The songs may have different names, but take out the starting notes and the game is the same: there are only twelve scale degrees, and you just have to play them fast enough that no one knows which is which.

If that doesn’t work for you, you could do some research to find a city with an “extra” tune you happen to already know. But there’s always a danger the city will change its tune, sending you and your family back into the night; tuneless jazz refugees in perpetual flight from the unknown.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘵? 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘺𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘨 𝘐’𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘋𝘰 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵? —𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘐𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘯 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰

Dear Sated:

If they’re poor musicians, doesn’t it make sense no one hires them? And what does Wyoming have to do with jazz—is it even a swing state?

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢 “𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦” 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦? 𝘍𝘞𝘐𝘞, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. —𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦

Dear Anonymous:

Time is fluid and irrepressible. Time won’t start and stop at your urging any more than your attempts to misuse it will change your bassist’s behavior. And when you accuse him of having bad time—what arrogance! As if 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 time is somehow superior to another’s, when in reality it will be your ultimate downfall. The only thing you can know with certainty about your time is that when it comes, you’ll be dead.

Time doesn’t do anything, good or bad; time doesn’t care. Time just sits there, impassive, while mortals do their worst to it, showing up early or late for this gig or that, rushing or dragging in some part of a tune that’s part of a set that’s part of a concert crawling along for an audience restlessly waiting for the time to go home. These earthly concerns—so important to you and others like you—are no more than meaningless blips in time’s infinite existence.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮! 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨? —𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘓𝘢𝘴 𝘝𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘴

Dear Fear:

Actually, there is. It happened just a few months ago, outside Phoenix, when a local musician came home from a gig and gleefully told his wife “I killed it tonight!” Word of his buoyant spirit and inspirational self-confidence spread quickly through the jazz community until the other musicians figured out he really isn’t very good, though still probably better than they are.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘶𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 (𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺). 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘓𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤.

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵-𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘴 𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘰? —𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥

Dear BS:

I think the key lies in your description of your gigs as “a lot of fun.” There’s a time and place for fun, I suppose, but jazz isn’t it. Jazz is a serious music; that’s why jazz musicians practice so hard, study so diligently, and learn to be so harshly critical of their own playing and everyone else’s.

Your sidemen may even be having fun along with you, but at some point they’ll inevitably ask themselves “Is this still jazz?” And you know as well as I do that the answer is no.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦. 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳?

𝘈𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘊𝘋𝘴, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐’𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦?

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦? —𝘈.𝘑., 𝘈𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢

Dear A.J.:

Frankly, you seem awfully wrapped up in yourself. Would it be possible for you to despise some other musicians’ work too? Then at least you’d have community.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘢𝘻𝘻 𝘢𝘵 7:00 𝘢𝘮? 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵? — 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘖𝘯 𝘓𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴

Dear FOOL:

English is such a weird language, isn’t it? And yet we English-speaking people expect everyone else to come to us on our turf; hardly fair. I acknowledge the privilege English affords me. I acknowledge the narrow worldview it condemns me to. And I acknowledge that this podium I have as a columnist, and all the power it affords me, are built on a crumbling, unsustainable mono-linguistic foundation.

If life were fair, I’d be able to answer you in Italian. But life isn’t fair—not even remotely. That’s why you were offered, and accepted, a low-paying gig at 7:00 am by the river. But is it really a river, or is it a canal? I thought Italy was just canals.

𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘔𝘳. 𝘗.𝘊.:

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘐 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰, 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘚𝘰 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴? —𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘩

Dear NFT:

Of course they’re getting annoyed—when you’re tying up their phone, they can’t make calls to find out when 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 gigs are.

The good news is that some phones nowadays actually have calendars built in! It’s a complicated technology, though, and many questions remain. What happens if you’re trying to enter a date and you get a busy signal? Are there roaming charges for dates that are far away? If your battery dies, do you lose all your gigs?

Most confusing of all is when a bandleader calls and asks you to put a date on hold. Unfortunately, the closest you can come is to put the call itself on hold, until the caller eventually hangs up in disgust. On the positive side, once that happens with enough bandleaders you won’t need a datebook 𝘰𝘳 a phone.