There Stands the Glass

A nurse asked an anesthetist about her trip to New Orleans as I lay in a hospital bed with a tube in my nose and an IV in my arm last week.

“How was Jazz Fest?”
“We had so much fun!”
“Did you listen to a lot of jazz?”
“No. I hate jazz!”
“I hate jazz too!”

My heart broke as the coworkers bonded over their mutual loathing of music I love. Knowing we were within shouting distance of the site of Charlie Parker’s elementary school made me wish I was slated to receive morphine rather than propofol during my minor medical procedure.

I chatted with the otherwise charming anesthetist about the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival upon awakening. Her favorite band was billed in the topline of this year’s event. Allowing myself to be upset about the commonplace dismissal of an entire genre would be hypocritical.

Until recently, I’d been indifferent to The Modern Jazz Quartet. Hearing The John Lewis Piano for the first time in April lifted the veil. The music by Martha Argerich, Sviatoslav Richter and András Schiff I’ve mainlined in the past couple years allow me to finally appreciate the classical inclinations of MJQ leader John Lewis.

An approach that previously struck me as precious now seems wonderfully weird on the 1958 recording. The awkward title and dodgy sound correspond with the outlandishly unconventional chamber jazz featuring members of MJQ and an aggressive cricket. My new favorite band is 73 years old.