The
other day I saw a Jazz trio—Soprano Sax, Banjo and Bass, playing
near Le Bon Marche. They were under an overhang and it was raining
and many of us crowded under the overhang. No one wanted to be wet.
These were all young men, student age or less, full of spirit and
passion and full of the blues and they were like nothing I'd heard
except maybe on a Sidney Bechet recording. They played the
West End Blues beautifully, so beautiful that if Louis Armstrong was
alive and was listening he would have had a smile from here to China.
My eyes welled up from the beauty of it. Then they played Out of
Nowhere. The Bird I thought had played that the best but these street
musicians played good enough that the Bird would have accompanied
them. They played maybe an hour maybe two hours because I lost track
of time and I kept throwing francs in the Sax case. On the 6th
day here, all that suffering of travel and feeling uptight was worth
it just to hear these guys play. My spirits were raised beyond
buoyancy.
It
was unreal. Was I in New Orleans? Chicago? Was it the 1930's? No I'm
in Paris, it's 1977 and these are very impressive players. The
Soprano sax player was diminutive, no more than 5'3”, thin with
short dark hair that hung like bangs on his forehead, black intense
eyes and he knew his instrument like he knew his body. When he
played he crouched then walked back and forth in time to the music.
He was the main soloist. In between solos he sat on a small low ledge
and shouted out in a French accent, “yeah, OK!' many times. And
he'd clap his hands or he'd growl out words of some sort with a deep
guttural sound. Sometimes he'd puff on a cigarette. Sometimes he
bantered with the other players and the banjo and bass player
wouldn't miss a beat even as they all laughed. The banjo player and
the bass player each got solos. It was Jazz in the raw. It could
have been completely free. They probably wanted the money but they
loved playing, it was obvious, and seemed solely to live for that.
The
crowds kept gathering and some were out there in the rain cheering
them on and clapping in time to the music. Oh it was an event
suddenly, a moment in time to never forget, to be fully human and be
able to comprehend all that was going on. All the ugliness of life
disappeared as a tune that was probably a Sidney Bechet tune echoed
under that overhang and even the Gendarmes who were probably called
to break it up stood there with the crowd and clapped. At some point
une jeune fille ran up and kissed all the players when they had
stopped between songs. And everyone applauded.
