Telling the Story

It’s a phrase musicians use frequently, and it happens on many levels (or not at all), depending on the night, their band mates, the mood, the rapport with the audience, or a je ne sais quoi. I have heard it happen live and on recording, but one night stands out in my mind as the ultimate example. The storyteller was my friend, Clifford Jordan.

I now know the week during which this occurred, it was the week of May 13-20, 1990. The night in particular was Friday, May 18. The band was led by Harry ‘Sweets’ Edison, and included Clifford on tenor, Connie Kay on drums, George Mraz on bass, Walter Davis Jr on piano. (Wow!) Allow me to preface with this line from the review by Peter Watrous, which appeared in the Sunday New York Times afterwards: “Solos followed the melody of each piece, just like they do and have in countless jazz clubs across the country. But the audience was transfixed: enough music was played during the first set to last the month.” (Italics mine.)

I can’t recall the song, but not far into the first set on Friday night, Clifford took his solo. I was transported, and at the same time, rooted to my seat. I was absorbing something rare, unquantifiable. As if I were suddenly able to spontaneously translate a foreign language. But what Clifford was articulating was not foreign to me at all, it was central. It was like the blood coursing through my veins. I was astonished that someone could put this into music. I got it. I know I was staring. When the solo ended, I’m not sure if I applauded, but I was still staring, and Clifford stared right back at me and nodded. He knew what he’d done. He knew I understood.

I have written about Clifford before and I know I’ll be writing about him again, because the stories are endless. One time I was sitting with him at the bar at Condon’s, and a friend of his came in. He introduced me thus: “This here’s Karen Bentivenga. She’s from Philly. Her Daddy was a boxer. She knows the lyrics to all the songs.”

He will never cease to amaze me! Even in memory.

(Thanks to my dear friend Sandy Jordan, and Noal Cohen for helping me to nail down the specifics of this gig.)