Once, at the Pori Jazz Festival in Finland, about 1974 this would have been, I watched Max Roach enthrall a sophisticated audience with nothing but a high-hat and a kick-drum. For, like, ten minutes, those were the only things he hit. Regular downbeats on the kick, and just mindbending stick-work on the hat.
It was utterly spellbinding.
I'm so glad I got to see him live. I'll always treasure that memory.
6 comments:
amazing drummer !!
so sad that he is gone
When I lived along the Great Lakes I used to listen to radio station CJBC out of Canada in its pre-French language days. 'Swhere I first heard of Max Roach. Today, in sunny south Florida, we get a smattering of Clear Channel Country and Trinity Broadcasting, and little else. But a few months ago while driving past Hamburg, NY, I happened on a jazz station which was featuring Max, Art Blakey, et al., from a sorely missed past. In the morning, mind you. Not the late night fusion playlist that often passes for jazz these days. The Hamburg station faded much too quickly.
Never had the pleasure of seeing Max live. Wish I had.
Nice tribute, Neddie.
Nice little obit for Max here.
Look at that jazzer, playing with a matched grip. Gotta love it.
And wot's a "matched grip" when it's at 'ome, X?
Well-matched?
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