Jazz it up!

What with all that sharing the harbour with the yachty crowd, and trying to keep up with Pensioner...
It was bond to happen. 
Mrs Raheny and I went to a jazz concert tonight. 

Me, mostly because it was free. As in, the sort of jazz that you don't have to pay for. As opposed to that free jazz shite. Too many bad memories of my student days, listening to Ornette Coleman with my mates while smoking funny cigarettes. I still shudder at the thought of it. Archie Shepp's Blasé represents the upper limit of what I can withstand in terms of shrieking saxophones. 
But I am partial to a type of jazz that actually has an identifiable melodic line. And no saxophone. 

In Mrs Raheny's case, it was more about discovering a passion for live jazz on the night when she should have been taking the minutes of yet another PTA meeting. I think that she is all PTA-ed out. 

I even donned the aul corduroy jacketm the good one, the one from the better charity shop. Who knows, I may even invest in a pair of Raybans if I really try to emulate the "Pensioner cool". 

Tonight's musical delight was provided (free of charge, did I mention?!), in my favourite library of all times, by the very  talented On/Off quartet. Which conveniently does not include a strident saxophonist. 

Great guitar. Played by a talented guitarist. I am quite sure it was not a ukulele. See, I can tell the difference in size between the two. And it was a good guitar. With six strings, I kid you not. And none of that nylon shite either. Six steel strings. And four fiddly button things for tweaking stuff, and the guy closed his eyes while playing, and I reckon that you have to keep your eyes open when playing a shite, cheap guitar (in case there are bits flying off, or nylon strings breaking). And his was definitely expensive, and his eyes were definitely closed when he played the fiddly bits. 

Great piano. Played by a talented pianist. Well, not exactly a piano. More like a keyboard thingy. But that produced a very very convincing piano sound. A good one too. A Roland. I am told that Rolands are the dog's bollix. Especially the RD-700NX, which is light years ahead of the RD-700 full stop. There was even some pedal thingy action going on underneath, so imagine! 

Great bass. Played by a talented bassist. The bass was mega. Well, maybe not mega, I'm exaggerating. But at least double! That's it. I bet it was a double bass. And the guy closed his eyes when playing the double bass. And you wouldn't get away with that sort of thing with a single bass. It had to be a double. I should have double-checked with another jazz aficionado. There were many. With a lot of nodding. And even polo neck jumpers. Black polo neck jumpers. Niiiiiiice. 

And greats drums. Played by a talented drummer. And I know a thing or two about drums, now that we have transformed the attic room into the Drum Kit Suite. And I could tell that this drummer was good. Very good in fact. His ding-ding-dinging on the cymbals was spot on, and the ding-ding-dings of a rare clarity. His high-hatting was superb. And I realise now that Finn's high-hats sound like two cheap wok lids clashing together... But best of all, the drummer swapped his drum sticks for brushes at one stage. I kid you not! And best of best of all, when he resumed playing with drum sticks, he pulled a stunning trick whereby he was playing on the snare with the fat end of the left stick! 
But he did not close his eyes while doing the fiddly drummy bits, which was a bit of a disappointment. 

All in all, a great evening, in the company of other jazz connoisseurs.