I can't believe that I almost missed this day, because it's ELVIN'S birthday. Elvin Jones would have been 82 today.
I mention that I can't believe it, because Elvin is probably my first real brush with a famous drummer - and the movie industry too.
For those of you who don't know who Elvin was, let's just say he was just tooooo cool. Elvin was that driving, yet understated beat behind John Coltrane.
I think this clip kind of sums up what I'm trying to say. It opens with the Elvin, but you see him only from behind. Throughout, you see his back, and his hands. Yet, he's there, and what he is doing is so amazing, and so effortless. Could anyone hold the sticks more loosely than Elvin?
Sure, Elvin could solo, and if you want to go looking, you will easily find those solos. In fact, I will be showing an Elvin Jones solo a little bit later, but to me, soloing wasn't what Elvin was about. Elvin was about that groove.
That groove just never stops. There's no such thing as a straight ahead beat with Elvin. Each one of his limbs has its own agenda, but all of them work together perfectly.
A while back, I wrote about Jim Chapin and 4-way independence. Elvin took the concept to a whole new level. It's one thing to be able to have your hands and feet play different things, but there's a big gap between simply being able to do it, and knowing what to do when you can.
Well, it's about 10:40 p.m here on the West Coast, so I still have some time to get this installment done before the day's gone, so I'm going to get to the other part of this story: my first brush with big time show biz.
My dad was thin (like me) and he hated the cold. He grew up in Kansas City, and spent WWII in the Himalayas, and then after attending Washington State College in the frozen mountains, he vowed never to be cold again. Consequently, I was born in Phoenix. As it turned out, Phoenix wasn't hot enough for my dad, so we ended up in the Armpit of the Universe, Imperial Valley, California.
Growing up anyplace probably isn't so bad when you're a kid, and the Armpit was o.k. too. You hardly ever needed a coat, and you could wear shorts or go swimming most of the year. But, that's about it. After age 10, the luster starts to wear off. You get tired of everything outside being so hot you can't touch it. The model car you spent so much time building melts as it sits in the window one day. You eventually realize you're in the Armpit of the Universe.
There just wasn't much to do, and the exciting moments were few and far between. One thing we could look forward to was location shooting for movies and TV shows. El Centro (the boil in the center of the Armpit) would often "come alive" with the buzz generated by the occasional visit from the fading A-list and "hot" B-list celebrities. We were simply ecstatic when Jimmy Stewart came to town to film the "Flight of the Phoenix" and the semi-regular visits from the cast of the Rat Patrol were a big deal too.
But then the REALLY big thing happened. My folks were part of the local Little Theater group, and very often, the movie producers would start there when looking for extras and small speaking parts for their film and TV projects. On this one particular day, these "hippies" came into town to shoot a movie. It was going to be a really avant-garde pic, loosely based on the story of Siddhartha. And, get this, it was going to feature ROCK MUSIC.
Now although I was not really a big fan of rock 'n' roll music (certainly not until the arrival of our last birthday celebrant, Ginger Baker), I did enjoy it (especially when I figured out that girls didn't care a thing about progressive jazz, but if you played in a rock band, they'd notice you), and we didn't get very much of it (at least live). Oh sure, I saw the Kingsmen at our local fair one year (they must have played "Louie Louie" 20 times during their show), and we had the Buffalo Springfield come to our local armory (well, sort of, since it turned out that the only original member was Dewey Martin, the drummer), but that was about it.
This time was different. I had heard through the "grapevine" (probably from someone who knew someone who read it in Variety or Crawdaddy) that the James Gang would be in the movie, and now my mom and dad were talking to the producers about it!
It only got better. The director came to town, and he simply fell in love with my dad's face. He wanted my dad in the movie as the bartender. My dad said no. He promised a speaking part. My dad said no. He said "I just want to do a close-up of your face - that's all." My dad, who enjoyed constructing complex sets, still said no. The director finally realized he was wasting his time (my dad taught math and English in the high school - when he said no, he meant it).
I was pretty disappointed, because I figured I wouldn't be seeing any part of the movie making. But as it turned out, my dad's friend, a 5th grade teacher at my mom's school), Harry Weisman, DID take the bartender part. And, we were all invited to the shooting. WOO HOO!
It was at this time that I learned what it's like to make movies. Here's my take on it: it's really boring. I spent two days out in the boonies watching the "magic" happen. What I saw was a lot of standing around and complaining about problems with the sound (it was probably the sand that gets in everything). Oh, and the women certainly weren't interested in any of the "townies."
However, there were "rock stars" there: Country Joe & the Fish. I couldn't have been much less impressed (I thought their music largely sucked and still do). But there was Harry, behind the bar, and a bunch of actors I didn't know. The director said we could all come back and watch any time, but after two days of this nonsense, I'd had enough. I passed.
You can see why for yourself. Here is a clip of the scene I watched get filmed. I don't know if I saw the actual takes they used, but I think so, because Harry was done on the second day, and he's in this clip for just a fleeting moment or two (you can see him for a few seconds starting at 1:14, and then at about 2:55)
Oh, and yes, that's Don Johnson with the itsy-bitsy pony tail.
I have to say I was quite underwhelmed. But, when the movie, "Zachariah," came out, I did go to see it, if for no other reason than just to see Harry. For most of the movie, that was about the only reason. It was pretty much a big steaming pile of incomprehensible drivel made by a bunch of people who were obviously very high.
But then came the shocker. Someone sitting next to me said "what's the big [black guy] doing there?" I wondered too, but my wonderment took the form of, "Hey, isn't that Elvin Jones? It sure looks like him." But it couldn't be, could it?
Yes it could.
So there I am, sitting in that dark, air-conditioned theater, and I realize that if I'd just stayed around on that boring set I MIGHT HAVE SEEN ELVIN JONES PLAY THAT SOLO!
I realize now that Elvin phoned in that solo, BUT I COULD HAVE SEEN IT, AND I MISSED IT!
Oh well, it's 11:53. Got to get it this up now. Happy Birthday, Elvin. I wish I could have been there.