I went down to the basement to find a case for an old King Zephyr Tenor sax today. Coming back upstairs Brother Diaz shouted at me saying "Hey man, your friend is here!" I rounded the bend and there he was. Brother G was embroiled in a new piano creation. He was playing those wide dark and ominous chords he enjoys so much. His running buddy and hustle partner Jimmy wasn't with him so I knew something was up. G had a ginger ale and a 7 Eleven danish in a wrapper on the floor. I picked up his food. The danish was still warm. As it usually goes with G, music had taken over the need for food. He stopped playing and gave me a hug. After a little prodding I learned the situation. No reeds and no neck strap had his music for nickels and dimes program at a standstill. It was like that time in the 70's during the gas strike when we waited in line for two hours and then a sign was placed on the back of the car in front of us. NO MORE GAS. No reeds means no sound. That's why at the Ash I'm the connection for notables such as Sonny Fortune, Paquito D' Rivera, and James Carter. Everyone knows I'm the guy to see for reeds at that special price.
G was out of cash. My wallet had nothing but dust in the wind. I told G to get back into his music while I stepped out to remedy the situation. I returned with my friend Andrew Jackson, who promptly made sure Giuseppi's needs were met. G then asked me to show him beginning violin and guitar books, in case he found any music students. Then we listened to some tracks from the great Monk record Underground. The swing on the song Green Chimney's really perked G up as was evidenced by his body language. Eventually I walked him to the bus headed back to Avenue D for destruction. G is walking slower and slower these days. I have witnessed age tighten it's grip on him. I'm truly worried about him. The doctors notes in his room are written with urgency. On the way to his last gig for ESP he caught violent shakes on the subway and really scared me. As I tried to help him calm down I told him in my mind "Not like this man. Don't end your life here." As usual, tenacious G made the gig. A door gig of course. And maybe his last.
Giuseppi doesn't trend on Twitter you see. He has no social media presence. He's been charged with not being able to play anymore by the musical community at large. He can't defend himself without any gigs. Ever since this article in the New York Times ran called Giuseppi Logan's Second Chance, I have witnessed a steady decline in interest in his music. Despite my best efforts, the well has run dry. All those people that book the Stone don't care about an old man that created a free jazz masterpiece before they were born. It's all about them now, or their friends. Nobody from any scene will offer him a gig. Mostly because he doesn't give them any political power or support their agenda. Can he still play? Giuseppi's music comes out in short bursts now. He might be wiped out in 25 minutes, but he's in there. Trust me on that. At a piano he could play a full long set. Doesn't matter now. The NYC he knew back then is a far cry from NYC today. The NYC of 2014 has turned it's back on brother G. They treat him as a relic, simply watching the world go by from his self-assigned busking bench in Tompkins Square Park. The cute little old guy with the sax. What a great way to decorate your NYC experience in a city that has cast aside it's own culture in pursuit of the holy cash.
We went down swinging though. Believe that. I tried to get G a grant from New Music USA. We went down in the first round. I reached out to Music Cares from VH1. The response was bleak as hell. They chose not to even write me back an email about it. Judgement has been served. Brother G, you are guilty of trying to live your final days out as an artist!
The only time the late great master Roy Campbell got mad at me was when that New York Times article came out. Roy said that the article validated the stereotype of the down and out Jazz musician. I was surprised that Roy got mad but have come to see just how right he was. There is a part of the media that expects and wants us to fail. The down and out Jazz man. Perfect for their distorted perspective of the kind of life you lead if you actually dare to let your art lead the way. People like to see that their choice to lead a safer life is validated when they see an older musician living his life out in a super busted little room. The recent New Yorker and Washington Post articles prove that our adversity is actually funny to them. Ha ha.
I get it. Life is all about choices. If you choose to be a cop then you might choose to kill an unarmed teenager. If you choose to be a cop then you might choose to choke hold somebody to death for selling a few loose cigarettes. If you choose to be a soldier then you choose to possibly scar your soul by killing someone in the name of freedom only to then end up homeless in the country you fought for.
Brother Giuseppi Logan chose to be a musician. Yes. He also chose a life of self-destruction. All of that is over now. He's just a man with a song to sing. No one is listening however, too busy with Facebook.
I'm still listening though. I'll keep listening and fighting for you man.
Every human being on Earth deserves a final chorus.