Entry Point 3: A Doorway into Jazz

As if there is only one doorway...

Marching band practice began every morning at 7:00 a.m. I typically got dropped off at the school at 6:30, and took refuge in the band room until practice started. Our director, Mr. Upsahl, would put one of his records on the big speakers, and I got to hear a lot of stuff that I would have never heard, otherwise.

One morning, I recognized the theme song to a popular show starring Tom Hanks. It wasn’t a show I was allowed to watch, but I could still hear it from the other room when my parents sent me off to bed: “Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone!”

It was neat hearing the whole album that morning before school, but one moment stood out - at exactly the 3-minute mark of this song:

I had heard jazz before - I wasn’t completely sheltered. Jazz is everywhere - as the joke goes, “What’s water?” said the second fish.

But that trumpet solo by Freddie Hubbard changed me. After all, I was a trumpet player, and had been since fourth grade! Six years of listening to kids around me fart their way through morning scales, and it never occurred to me until that moment that the horn I held could do… THAT.

I never got that good at trumpet, but I could sing, and while I had some catching up to do, I made the 1990 Arizona All-State Jazz Choir my senior year.

left: Billy Joel on the cover of 52nd Street; right, Arizona All-State Jazz Festival, 1990: Director Tom Dustman, me, and my classmate, Adrian Blanco

Of course, those who knew me then saw the way I dived into Billy Joel’s enormous discography, and they probably assumed that was my takeaway from Mr. Upsahl’s record collection. But in reality, “Zanzibar” and its two Hubbard solos sent me on a journey I’m still savoring today.

I started out tracking down Freddie’s Red Clay through the public library, and learned the meaning of the name Herbie Hancock.

Later, two of my classmates attempted “Not Ethiopia” by the Brecker Brothers - which, sadly, did not sound like this:

And of course, I found the odd-meter and slick style of Dave Brubeck at some point -

I didn’t love everything called jazz. The 1990s were awash with smooth jazz, and the soul and R&B singers who most of my friends associated with “jazz” didn’t resonate with me - Luther Vandross, Teddy Pendergrass, Toni Braxton, Anita Baker. I could appreciate their art, but that wasn’t what excited me.

For years, I chased that elusive element that did excite me. I dabbled and scraped my favorites into a semblance of a collection. I never really knew what kind of jazz was my favorite until I went back to school in 2017 and took a course on the history of music in the U.S. At one point, the slide presentation went through many notable albums from each era of jazz, and I already had several in my collection: Blue Train and Giant Steps by John Coltrane; Moanin’ by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers; Mercy Mercy Mercy by Cannonball Adderly.

It turns out my favorite flavor of jazz is hard bop.

I would like to think I would have found my way to these albums somehow, but it took an effort, especially in the pre-Internet days. And I only spent time putting that effort in because of what I heard in “Zanzibar.”

So, thank you Billy Joel for including Freddie Hubbard on your 1978 rock album, and thank you to Freddie Hubbard for agreeing to do it!

Here he is, tearing it up with the Jazz Messengers Big Band in Japan on “Moanin’” (with Stanley Jordan on guitar!):