Make you holler loudly that you’re glad enough to be a man…

I got to see Kurt Elling last night. It was a late night – didn’t get in the door until about midnight last night butWOW what a good time. The opening band was very good led by Fred Herschwho is apparently quite some composer (I don’t know my jazz). That wasabout an hour. Then, after a break we came back in and it was Kurt’s turn. Before I goany further let me tell you – I had the best seat in the house. Nobodywas closer to the stage. Five feet away tops. If he knocked his mic overit would have hit me on the head.

Anyway, remember his lament about the Musikfest audience? And how sad he was when we talked to him afterward and told him how much we had enjoyed the concert? Well, he musthave thought he didn’t have that audience here because he was FANTASTIC.I had no idea, but he isn’t just a vocalist, he’s an entertainer in thespirit of the 40s jazz singers. Hysterically funny and having so muchfun himself it’s hard not to get sucked in. And the audience did. Somefunny moments:

He introduces “Freddie’s Yen for Jen” (the one about her kisses: they’renever ficticious, always lubricious, make you holler loudly that you’reglad to be a man…) Anyway, apparently that song is vocalese – where youtake an instrumental solo from a jazz song you like and then build lyricsfor it. Well, he didn’t know this when he wrote the lyrics but apparentlythe person who wrote the original instrumental version wrote the song forhis MOTHER. Which of course led to lots of subtly funny cringing at hisown lyrics.

He theatrically recited a hipster translation of the Julius Ceasar speechthat begins “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” which had the audienceabsolutely dying laughing.

So seriously – our disappointment at how reserved the concert was inBethlehem? We had no IDEA how disappointed we should have been. With agood audience he becomes the funniest, coolest person you ever met. Whichsort of gave me something of a grand unification theory of style.

Perhaps, on his deathbed, Frank Sinatra, possibly estranged from his son,changed his will, sending all of his style to Kurt and leaving his son outtotally. Sure, Sinatra’s son has style and can entertainbut it’s the swagger that ruins it all.

Kurt can swagger and pull itoff – swagger and look pleased with himself, not like a smug asshole.

His band was his usual one. Laurence Hobgood was on piano, one person onupright bass and a third on drums. The band was absolutly flawless.

At 7:00 PM when I got to Santa Fe I was considering finding a hotelbecause I was so tired. Then he first band was kind of quiet and dreamyand I considered it even more seriously kind of zoning out pleasantly ontheir music. But after Kurt I was wired and able to drive all the wayhome at 11:30. I didn’t stay after to talk to him though I could have.

There was a line and frankly I’m not worthy.

Anyway – I am really glad I was encouraged by everone to go. It was such a good time and an excellent break even though I lost sleep over it.

Mmmmoooooowaaaaah…

I went to a meditation meeting last night. It was…odd. I got there a bit early – it turns out to be the house of a late 30s early 40s couple, Dennis and Tara. The house was much like our Ozarks house – sweet little cottage in that nice neighborhood near the co-op.

I hang out in the living room with Tara and Dennis and one of their three kitties. They Seem like fairly cool people.

Before long, Creek arrives. Creek belongs at the East Wind commune. Sweet hippie boy with wild hair and moustache. Just back from a year studying abroad in England and suffering from culture shock upon returning.

Then came Gregory, Gregory makes his money making jewelery and sort of reminds one of Donald Fagen meets Rick Moranis.

These folks are all Tibetan Buddhists – same lineage, as I said, of Pema Chodron, and their meditation is not what I’m used to. What I’m used to is following the breath – focusing on it and gently coming back to it when I forget and go away. This particular lineage is very much into visualizations. visualize this image, and chant over and over the same thing while counting prayer beads. I’m sure it is legitimate and all, and it was an interesting experience that I might well do again, but it was really odd.

At one point it occurred to me that it felt much like if there were such thing as pentecostal buddhists or something. With all due respect and all that, like I said – I tend to believe what they say way more than I believe what any Christian says. At the beginning of the chant, Tara started and it sounded just like Ellen DeGeneres talking to whales in “Finding Nemo”.

ANYway. We’re all sitting, everyone’s chanting, in a pentecostal way when the cats, upset at having had the cat door moved start banging on the outside metal door. FINALLY they figure out they can leap in the window and so one of them – a sweet black and white boy named Zebra walks to the middle of the floor and starts yelling at his mom for not making the door accessible and screeching about how humiliating it was.

Then in about thirty minutes, it was over. Poof.

We have a conversation about Rinzai-school zen. That’s the really severe one I went to in New York City. Tara had been raised a Catholic like me and I mention that they have something in common – they both have a big stick in the corner to hit you with.

Dennis brings out the TV and VCR, plugs in some speakers and a DVD of Prince (as in Purple Rain) Live is on, beers are offered (Only Dennis and Creek accepted) and then pizza arrives and we watch a buddhist documentary.

And then we all played Paper Mario and indoor mini golf.