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THERE ARE DAYS....Review of 4 September 22 Jam Session

...when the jam sessions run sublimely, when the saxophones never play a bum note, the basses drive the music along from behind, the trumpets soar, the guitars sing, the piano never drops a bar, and the singers draw on their emotional depths in ways we could not have heard before.

Such music making elevates the soul, soothes the troubled mind, distracts the stressed from their worries. The audience, deeply somnolent, lightly medicated, listens transfixed.

Last Sunday's jam, at the Victorian Wine Centre, deep in the cultural wastelands of Middle Park, was, mercifully, none of those things - or we wouldn't have a damn thing to look forward to next week and beyond...

There are days, but last Sunday was not one of them...

It was, in truth, a fun, noisy affair, so much so that several attendees wore ear plugs. The eight or so Friday night regulars looked on with glee - they had been warned, but turned up anyway, and swore they enjoyed every minute. Schadenfreude, anyone?

The sound wasn't great, although it did seem to improve the further away you were.

So... in the midst of such travails, rather a lot of people had fun - the wine bar stayed open to 8.00pm. unheard of on a Sunday; and Steve and Penny, exhausted new parents, asked us back.

Props to Michael Holt, sax, to Jeff Harris and Tim, clarinet, Graeme on trumpet, to Pete, newcomer Steven and Anton on bass, to Mike, Neville and Fermin on guitar, to singers Aneta, Anthony, Jane and Deborah, to Martin, Jim and then, good grief!, Annie on drums, Gentleman John Curtis struggling to be heard on piano, and the Good Captain running the show with aplomb (not sure what that is, but he didn't have his usual notepad).

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