Mike’s Drumming Adventures

Picture an idealic sunny Sunday afternoon at the prestigious Wellesley Country Club just outside of Boston. Spending breaks walking around the beautifully landscaped grounds, enjoying a cold beer on the deck overlooking the golf course…. I thought it odd that all day long people were asking, “Is John going to play?” “Hey are you guys going to let John play?” Now, every professional musician will tell you that there are many possibilities that can occur as the result of letting someone sit in. The possibilities range from harmless fun to embarrassing. It can often ends up being the equivalent to what’s known in baseball as a “rally killer.” I kept redirecting ’sit in’ inquiries to other topics such as the Red Sox or the weather.

Finally it’s time to have dinner and standing next to me in line at the buffet is the bride’s mom. She asks, “Are you going to let my Johnny sit in?” It’s the bride’s mom so reluctantly I say, “Sure, what instrument does your Johnny play?” She raised her eyebrows and with an incredulous look said, “Guitar!” “Ok, geez… just have him come up right after dinner and introduce himself.”

With a smirk, I inform the band with an apology that some guy is gonna come up and sit in and play his guitar. With a typical roll of their collective eyes they mumble something like, “Mmmm yeah, ok,,,, whatever….” After the first song of the first set ends, a gentleman steps up to the band stand holding a crying baby… “Hey man, sorry about this, my mom and sister want me to sit in…but I’ve got to get out of here…my baby just won’t stop crying so I’m going to split like right now.” The entire band stands and stares like a pack of deer blinded by headlights…our mouths agape…finally I hear the bass player, a young kid studying at Berklee pipe up, …”Oh my God, Sco…that’s Sco… I can’t believe…it’s John Flipping Scofield.” With a wave of his hand, the monster guitarist known as John Scofield vanished as quickly as he had come. The band was humbled.

To me sometimes,  certain people seem bigger than life.  There is something special that separates them from the rest of the pack.  I’d bet that anyone who’s met or known Elvin Jones would say that about him.   I’m estimating it was around 1995, Jumpstreet was working a wedding at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge, MA.  Inside the Charles is a great jazz club called The Reggata Bar.   Members of Jumpstreet at the time included Peter Calo  on guitar and a wonderful saxophone player and friend from Boston,  Myanna.   Everyone was being stoic but my excitement was visibly boiling over because Elvin Jones was playing in the Reggata Bar!  I was chomping at the bit to get a chance to see Elvin live.  Knowing the staff at the Charles, we were allowed to sneak in and catch some of Elvin’s show.   I had never seen him play and it was so cool to hear and see those signature licks and a-bombs come to life (and that was with brushes) .  The band finished their first show and Ravi Coltrane turned to us and said, “Hey Myanna.”  I never asked Myanna how she knew Ravi.  They struck up a conversation.  Meanwhile,  I had stepped out into the elevator area where I knew Elvin would be heading.   Elvin came strolling over and it was just he and I.    A white towel wrapped around his neck and the steam coming off his body added to his giant aura.  I mean the guy had a presense about him.  I knew deep down that he was just a mortal like me,  but there was something, an energy,  almost like an invisible light around him.   I didn’t want to bug him with something so trivial,  but I knew I would never get a chance like that again to get a keepsake of that moment .   He was a big guy and I stood there like a little boy looking up at him.   He was smiling at me. I think he sensed that I was a little uncomfortable.  It was a welcoming smile. He was so unpretentious.      “Elvin would you sign this for me?”  I held out one of my business cards and a pen.   He took it from me, kept smiling and asked me my name.  “Mike” I told him.  Still with the big grin he wrote, “To Mike, Elvin Jones”.    What a treasure.  This coming Sunday (May 18th) will mark the fourth year since Elvin left us.   He had a long life and his contribution to jazz is unmeasurable.     Year’s later, I remember driving to Dave Mattacks’ house for a lesson.  During the 26 mile drive I was listening to something Coltrane… I think it may have been ” A Love Supreme”.  When I arrived at Dave’s I said (looking for some insight) , “I dunno man,  I’ve been listening to Elvin on the way down here and I can’t even visualize what’s going on…..I have no idea what the heck he’s doing… “  Dave just laughed and said,  “MIke, no one does.”