Just because you're not a drummer. . .

. . . doesn't mean that you don't have to KEEP TIME.

(from T. Monk's advice. . . )
Pat your foot and sing the melody in your head when you play.

Stop playing all (that bullshit) those wierd (sic) notes, PLAY THE MELODY!

Make the drummer sound GOOD.

Discrimination is important.

You've got to dig it to DIG IT. YOU DIG?

All Reet!

It must be always NIGHT, otherwise they wouldn't need the LIGHTS.

Let's lift the bandstand!!

Avoid the HECKLERS.

Don't play the PIANO PART. I'm playing that. Don't listen to me. I'm supposed to be accompanying YOU.

The inside of the tune (the bridge) is the part that makes the outside sound good.

Don't play EVERYTHING (or EVERYTIME); let some things go by. Some music (is) just imagined. What you don't play can be more important than what you DO.

A note can be small as a pin or as big as the world. It depends on your IMAGINATION.

Stay in SHAPE! Sometimes a musician waits for a gig and when it comes, he's out of shape and can't make it.

When you're SWINGING, swing some MORE!

Always leave them wanting MORE.

Don't sound ANYBODY for a gig, just be on the scene. Those pieces were written so as to have something to play and to get cats INTERESTED enough to come to rehearsal.

You've got it! If you don;'t want to play, tell a joke or dance, but in any case YOU GOT IT! (to a drummer who didn't want to solo)

Whatever you think CAN'T be done, somebody will come along and DO IT. A genius is the one MOST LIKE HIMSELF!

They tried to get me to hate white people, but someone would always come along and spoil it.





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My juvenile, novelty displays. . .

. . . of musical ability and my family entertainment concerts and recitals finally led me into the BIG TIME. Well, I do exaggerate. By BIG TIME, I simply mean that I was ready to play some REAL music with some REAL musicians in a REAL band at a REAL venue in front of a REAL audience. . . and all this for some REAL MONEY. I use the term audience loosely since it was not the concert hall for which I was bound. Nor was it a 'listening' room nightclub complete with dim lights and smoky air. No my BIG TIME was the old Harbor Inn (in Baltimore) with two guys from my high school and immediate neighborhood, a mere stone's throw away from our house. The name upon which we (now that think about it, more probably THEY) decided was REFLECTION. Our repertoire included 'Playground in my Mind' (a 'gem' from the 70s); 'Ebb Tide' (a standard by Robert Maxwell from 1953); 'Proud Mary' (quite contemporary yet still overplayed, even at the time); 'Bad, Bad Leroy Brown' (ditto); 'Colour My World' (the Chicago tune that was overplayed but, HEY it's Chicago); 'Taking Care of Business' (rocker by Bachman Turner Overdrive); and, well you get the picture. Our band uniform was a beige, flower patterned, loose, blousey-fitting shirt with 'puffy' sleeves (a la Seinfeld); Bright Yellow 'elephant' pants with cuffs and (dig this)- chocolate brown shoes with three-inch heels. I remember the Mother of our guitarist taking photos before we departed for our first gig but I do not know if they survive and in whose possession they now would be. Would that be a blessing or a curse?





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