I am part of a community that most people don’t even know exists.
Jazz, voted the least popular genre of music in a poll done in Santa Cruz (really, we came in after polka!), is alive and well in our little edge of the universe. I am on the board of our local Jazz Society, which has a weekly newsletter, puts on jams, and offers a well-attended monthly lecture series.
Until this month.
This coming weekend brings the regular jam date, but the brewery where our jam takes place will be silent. We have entered The Great Pause.
There are so many ways that this is going to hurt our fragile little enterprise. First, our large group brought in a good amount of money to support a locally owned business. Second, we paid professional musicians to come in and provide a solid backing band for musicians from beginner to professional. Third, we exchanged information and ideas in a thriving corner of a musical discipline that is threatened with extinction.
It occurs to me that this pause is harming community on all sorts of levels. It’s financial, it’s musical, it’s emotional.
But let me take a moment to describe our jam as it was rather than focusing on what might or might not be:
The band arrives early and sets up. Our drummer, bass player, and pianist are professionals who have had long careers. It’s such a thrill that our Jazz Society members can pay them for their hard work.
Next, our fearless jam coordinator arrives with the all-important clipboard. Already several avid players who want to get the first slots are there, poised to sign up. Other players and audience members arrive as the music starts. This is a tight community: The band members wave and sometimes pause their playing to give hugs.
The bar and nearby restaurant do an unusually good amount of business on these Sunday afternoons. Participants buy beer brewed on site, soft drinks, and barbecue from next door.
We have all the instruments you’d expect…and more. We regularly have singers, from beginners to pros, horn players of all varieties, woodwinds, guitarists, and an occasional violinist, harmonica player, and once we even got a recorder player from Sweden. We also get lots of pianists, drummers, and bass players who spell the band and take their turn.
Each musician gets to call two tunes and invite other soloists up with them. Sometimes we get full horn sections playing well-known standards. Sometimes we get songwriters sharing their own tunes. The mood ranges from maudlin to magic, and it’s all in good fun.
Perhaps what I’m describing doesn’t seem that amazing until you consider the fact that we are an isolated county of 250,000, hemmed in on side by the Monterey Bay and the other by mountains. We don’t seem like a likely place for a thriving jazz community.
Yet it thrives. In part it thrives because of the hard work for over 20 years of a group of dedicated board members. In part it thrives because Santa Cruz has a long tradition of art for art’s sake, with pros and amateurs finding a comfortable home here. But mostly it thrives because we all value the camaraderie and learning that happens on those Sunday afternoons.
For now, we have gone silent. Until we meet again, you can check out our rather new Youtube channel, which has some moments from our jams and a few of our lectures available. If you’re a player who wants to be part of our community, you can subscribe to our newsletter and join our Facebook Group.
Like everyone during this Great Pause, the Jazz Society board is in wait-and-see mode. There will be a lot of work that will have to be done to pick up the pieces when life gets back to normal.
But the music will go on!
