Oh what a tangled web I have woven. Back in my one semester at Berklee I was hanging out with a crew from San Juan Puerto Rico that had a band together. Somehow we started messing with the legendary Ouija board. I recall not letting anybody keep it under my bed, that wasn't funny man. One day during a Ouija session a spirit started directing the pointer with a lot of focus. At one point I stopped touching it and it still moved. Everybody claimed they were not pushing it.
The spirit said he knew me. He informed me that he was my long lost grandfather on my fathers side. A man that no person, including my very own father, had ever seen a picture of. All we knew was that he died before my dad was born and that his mom destroyed every known photo in a rage filled grief.
This led to the the kicker as my lost grandfather informed me that their was something I needed to know.
That he was black.
HAH! I called my father right away and informed him of my experience. He was baffled but left the door to possibility open. To this very day I often laugh thinking back at the sheer madness of the event and that somewhere in there was the truth about me. I have at times had a hard time making sense of myself. People that hear my voice and then meet me in person have accused me trying to run down a scam.
"There is no way you can be Matt Lavelle."
It has been suggested that I'm just living a life long fantasy to not be white but my music at times tells a different story. The other day we had Hugh Masekela playing on Spotify at the store. Time and time again I kept freaking out hearing my sound in His tone. Not just the sound,but the ideas and energy to! I have never really sat down with his music but the connection was undeniable. I understood that what Roy Campbell said about me was true. Sound doesn't lie. It cant. I'm seeing more evidence that the lines between all people are getting thinner and thinner by the day these days. I see interracial relationships going down everywhere and for me that's a beautiful thing. But enough. Speaking of my trumpet big brothers New York City Trumpet Nemesis returns this Sunday at The Bohemian Caverns in Washington DC. Michelle Obama is on the guest list. Join us why don't you? This Sunday 12/1 at 7pm.
Back at Fat Eb the interviews have gone great. Catherine Sikora is next. I have at great pains had to become honest with myself about what I call my writing. The truth is I have much to learn as many of my readers I'm sure know. I have slowly gotten better but I need real training. I'm in fact going back to school to tighten it up with a plan to pursue a masters in Jazz History at Rutgers with my friend Dr. Lewis Porter. I'll never stop playing but 20 years of retail is a LOT of retail you dig. My first book is insane, it's free jazz improv fuck the rules and all that but I can do better. My short story that just came out needs fleshing out but I like it. Thing is that to get it you have to be deep into Jazz AND Tarot Cards.
Meanwhile I'll keep finding books on the street that I'm meant to read like the George Carlin autobiography and a biography about Renoir. Unseen Rain is recording my quartet and Harmelodic Monk in January. I'll keep my tilted cap on to deflect all hustle with a pre-hustle. I'll keep running down my plunger cornet blues with my man Karl Berger. I'll continue to roll with brother Giuseppi Logan as long as he's able. Brother G just played Tenor at a big ESP event. The ESP event could be a whole blog in itself but I'm not going there. The fire is to hot, I might burn my own ass. I actually got offered a writing gig at Jazz inside to rock more in depth interviews. First up is Bern Nix. FAT Eb DOES NOT DO RECORD REVIEWS AT THIS TIME (For all those folks trying to get me to cross the line). Chris Kelsey convinced me to chill. Hang out with me at Sam Ash with my Spotify machine and we can talk records all day son.
Oh yeah, there is one thing I will be easing up on. Think I'll pull back on that Ouija Board action..
Or will I?
12 HOUSES 1/11/14 FIREHOUSE SPACE.
Brother GL on Tenor in the Kitchen!
(My Mom painted by my grandfather in 1972!)
This blog entry written for Gerard Faroux . . . .