Casa Jonsson

Dave Brubeck came to town in December and I went to hear him. Great concert, and Congregation Beth Yeshurun’s sanctuary was not a bad venue. The first half was the Quartet (Bobby Militello, alto sax; Michael Moore, bass; Randy Jones, drums) playing a set of standards. The guys were all in fine form, Brubeck included. The second half was a performance of some of his sacred choral compositions that integrate classical and jazz elements; a chamber orchestra and choir shared the stage with the Quartet who improvised in long interludes. (The Houston Chamber Choir’s performance left nothing to be desired in any respect.) Brubeck’s wife Iola had written the words for all the pieces and was in attendance.

I hung out in the cold outside for half an hour after the concert and succeeded in getting backstage to meet the Brubecks. Brubeck is an amazing guy. He’s 86 and still pulling off three-hour-plus concerts. He lingered for over an hour afterward to greet fans. When it was my turn I thanked both of them for the music. Then I handed him my copy of Jazz at Oberlin, saying something about how much I treasure the record. His response was, “Oh! That’s one of my favorites, too.” I told him that my dad had seen him perform twice, the two appearances separated by half a century. Brubeck asked where it was that my dad had seen him 50 years ago. I guessed Long Beach. (My dad later told me it had been San Francisco.)

Over Christmas a few weeks ago we were in my hometown of Oberlin, Ohio. Although the historic Finney Chapel was undergoing some renovations we were able to get inside during our last day in Oberlin. Jazz at Oberlin was recorded in this hall in 1953. A fact usually overlooked by history books is that I received my high school diploma on the same stage in 1989. You can impress your friends by telling them the trivia item about how I proceeded to bore and bewilder the graduation audience by playing—while still dressed in my royal-blue cap and gown—a solo violin piece I had written for a girl earlier that year.