JAM SESSION OF MODEST PROPORTIONS...


... and rather cold outside, perhaps a disincentive for the warblers, of whom none turned up other than Buddy and Anthony... We started with a few of Mike Powell's charts, as for the previous week, then Tim on clari. Jeff Harris played up a storm, and we thought he might have gone all modal on us, but it turned out he was either experimental or lost, you decide which; but it did sound good. Then Calamatta his usual honey toned self. All Mighty fine...

And followed by the pick of the day: Buddy's take on Georgia, with Mr Michael howling on sax, and Sydneyside reprobate Ray the Lounge Lizard Hood smashing it on guitar, (*) followed by Anthony reprising Blame it on My Youth, and, as the Good Captain observed, getting better all the time.

Mr Steve Martin turned up and played double bass, possibly enthused after his fine set for Katerina at the Wine Centre on Thursday; or perhaps encouraged by his lively bass at the Challis Street Fandango for Aneta on Saturday, and playing as elegantly as ever, although after that lot he must have been knackered... as was the pianist (moi) what done the same.

So, the singers of the F persuasion stayed away in droves and missed a chance to shine. Steve Bray and Martin Clifton good on drums, as was the other drummer, who may have been called Dave, probably wasn't, and played well.

We knocked off early, with the Good Captain desperately trying to string it out further past my bedtime than was necessary.

Definitely not the greatest Jam Session of All Time, or all week for that matter, but I rather hope a few peeps had fun. Just thirteen musos played. Jesus, you can get that many for a good supper. Undeterred, we will tickle the carbs and fire it up again this Sunday (3rd July)

* Footnote: Mike Powell, did you lend out that mighty fine guitar of yours - and if you did, does the Hood know how honoured he was?



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​ One of the smallest jams in memory, but a marvellous session from pianist Dan Ossher, Double bassist Dave Taylor, and (drum roll...) Martin Clifton playing out of his skin. When the rest of us shut

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