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I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.

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Saturday, April 5   >>

I'm a fermata. Hold me.

Happy Birthday, Mum :) We celebrate hard. Like Andrew W.K.

Today, Fullerton College held their annual Jazz Festival Competition. The first thing I did when I arrived was steer straight toward a piano master clinic, which Si Getz hosted. Half of his lecture was hardcore theory, then I did the class a favor of asking for requests for him to perform.

The man did 'body and soul'...except this was his own transcription. Absolutely spectacular. He ripped. The guy has major chops. Chops like a 'muddafuka'. I want to hear this man play more.

Our performance went...SOOO much better than we had all expected (even Hugo didnt fuck up his solo!) Word on the campus was we got 2 superior ratings, and one high excellent rating. How that goes in placing, we'll see on Monday. For those not familiar and hear these ratings on your daily announcements at school, I'll make it easier for you to understand.

Superior: Abso-fucking-lutely incredible, gimme more, I want another eargasm, bring it on horny style.
Excellent: Dude...that rocked. Good stuff going on.
Good: Hm. At least you guys stayed together on time.
Fair: Holy shit, are you serious? (this is where the judge just throws his point papers in the air in despair) Get the hell off our legendary stage.

There was another clinic I attended, which was jazz comp(liment)ing for the rhythm section. Not only was it comical, but I learned a LOT about communication and finally found a group of people who find the guitar to be profoundly annoying to our section. Thanks, RobC. Oh, and bass guitars with more than 4 strings are just "stupid". Word up.

Comping is actually the funnest thing about jazz music (in performance, really). Comping is background rhythm/sound which adds the salt to the spotlight soloist. Right in front of me every third period is a guy named Thomas (an EXCELLENT drummer). Whenever some really bitchin' soloist is...um...soloing during rehearsal, the comping is a great opportunity for Thomas and I to have total musical freedom. It's crazy, I believe we carry the same jazz ear. I can just look at him and I'll know what he's going to do next, and vice versa. It's like ESP, but...not. The funny part is we don't even know it. I think this is what jazz is all about. Communicating with syncopation and fitting awkard time meters in common time meters. That Thomas...he's fucking great. He makes creating jazz music a VERY fun thing for our rhythm section. Without him, I honestly believe I wouldn't be where I am in jazz today. I should thank him for being such a great cat. [tear]

So many people leaving ... I'm going to miss them all so dearly.

How will Senior life hold up? I despise most of the underclassmen, really. They're all so...fucking loud and obnoxious. ...and they can't hold back the terrible urge to use "like" and "you know" in every other sentence. You do not know how annoying this is.

-jooce by jooce.

p.s. today in the mail I received "essential kabalevsky" sheet music. no return address. just a note which says "This is for you." People, no more anonymous crap. either identify yourself or just don't say or send anything to me at all. it looks like an excellent book (this man is a great 20th century russian composer who wrote very beautiful nature music) and i will play with it tomorrow. if you read this blog, thank you, ive never owned any kabalevsky. how do you know i like kabalevsky? this is actually quite spooky, now that i think of it...