117 miles from home, one of my "new" tires came completely apart on The Lonesome Road!
I could see the circular tire tread rolling along the freeway in my rear view mirror, as Ella hobbled over to the side of the road. Fortunately my spare was in good repair and I made it home safely.
Having all the tires checked today, just in case.
#VanLife
Finished the tour in Ashland, only a 375-mile drive from home, and the rain began to fall, as if on cue, just as I crossed into Oregon.
The Old Siskiyou Barn is neither old nor a barn. It’s a hidden jewel of a recital hall, tucked into the canopied woods in the hills just south of Ashland. It boasts exemplary acoustics, a terrific piano, the earthy fragrance of ancient wood, and a metal roof that sings when it rains. It’s perfect.
Darrell and I first performed here back when Starlight Cafe was released in 1998, and we’ve been fortunate to return many times over the years with our duo.
This weekend we played a few favorites from the old repertoire, some new selections from our current recordings, and a brand new piece dedicated to the beautiful souls who created this place. Our friend Ed, concert producer and guitarist, joined us for a couple of songs including the premiere.
It occurs to me that I’ve worked this same circuit, up and down the left coast, for decades now, yet this trip felt different. Emotions are heightened. Everything carries a patina of significance.
For one thing, audiences are just so delighted to finally be out of isolation, enthusiastic about returning to live events, and eager to connect with the performers. The pandemic is far from over, however, so that enthusiasm is tempered with an awkwardness about intimacy and proximity. Every post-concert meet-and-greet now has this oddly nervous “first date” energy.
Also, there is a weird apocalyptic undertone to everything now. The steady drumbeat of negative news over the climate crisis, wildfires, disease, war, economic hardship, political extremism and more, is creating an atmosphere of fear that these may be the end times. I exaggerate, but only a little. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear doomsday language sprinkled into even the most mundane of verbal exchanges. People don’t feel safe anymore, all situations seem tenuous, so we’d better get serious and make sure whatever we’re doing matters. Admit it, you feel it too.
But what really made this trip emotionally rewarding was all the reconnections with important people from my past.
Someone once said “the best mirror is an old friend.” Many of us have reached an age at which we’re reassessing the past and rethinking our place in the world. Some of us are even starting to question long held beliefs. There's nothing like a conversation with an old friend to help you find your way.
I really needed these reunions. It felt to me, on this tour, as if we were drawn together magnetically. Our conversations felt somehow predestined, or guided by the divine, if such a force exists.
My heart is full.
Traveled 300 miles today from Arden-Arcade to Ashland.
California, I miss you already, but I’ll be back again in the spring. Try not to burn up or fall into the ocean before then, m’kay?
Paused for the cause in the resilient town of Weed. Happy to report that both the Mill and Mountain wildfires have been contained, power is restored, and our friends at the Hi-Lo are back in business, serving up the very best pie a la road!
Crossing into Oregon I swear I could feel the seasons change from summer to fall!
Found a sweet parking spot (#MattFoleyForever) and spent some time with Darrell Grant’s tunes in preparation for tomorrow’s show in Ashland.
Nice work if you can get it.
Traveled 225 miles from Santa Cruz to Seaside to Sacramento.
Deja Blue, the Monterey jazz + soulfood venue where my friend Leon Joyce (“The People’s Choice”) leads the house band, is my kind of place!
Convivial atmosphere, lots of laughter with friends old and new (you're a jewel, Barbara), and I’m not sure which was tastier, the music or the catfish!
The RV park by the Steinbeck House in Salinas didn’t work out, so I traveled north and spent the night in Gilroy, California.
If you haven’t been to Gilroy, you’re missing out. The very air you breathe carries the mouthwatering scent of the little farm town’s most famous crop!
How could I resist? Before skipping town I hit one of the roadside tourist traps and tried a little garlic ice cream.
It was delightful! But it would be even better with bacon. Don’t judge.
Now back in Sac looking for fresh vegetables.
Said goodbye to Sunset Beach this morning and headed down to Monterey.
Listening to NPR on the drive, I heard the news that Ramsey Lewis has died.
It seems like we lose another hero every few days, but this one hits hard.
30 years ago in May of ’84, Ramsey Lewis came to Interlochen Arts Academy for a performance with our studio orchestra. I was a senior in high school and he was the first “big name” jazz musician I’d ever met.
He made a huge impression. I was blown away by his infectiously joyful performance and his extreme generosity toward me and the other student soloists.
It couldn’t have been very rewarding for him, sharing the stage with a bunch of teenage amateurs, but I can still see his thousand-watt smile, still hear his howls of approval, as we launched into “The ’In’ Crowd” and “Hang On Sloopy” — big Ramsey Lewis hits from the year we were all born!
After the concert Mr. Lewis took the time to speak with each of us individually, encouraging us to pursue our dreams. Yes, he did. And we did.
After that I began checking out his discography in the listening library, beginning with Upendo Ni Pamoja, the album recommended by my classmate Frayne Lewis, Ramsey’s son.
Later I discovered Mr. Lewis' collaborations with Maurice White and members of Earth, Wind & Fire, one of my all time favorite bands, and I was hooked.
I suppose it’s no coincidence that tonight it will be my privilege to work with Leon Joyce, Jr., a longtime member of the Ramsey Lewis Trio.
Or that this weekend in Ashland, Oregon, Darrell Grant and I will play Mr. Lewis’ theme song, the spiritual “Wade In The Water” — a staple of our repertoire for 25 years.
Ramsey Lewis was far more than a Grammy-winning, chart-topping jazz and pop star. He was a true Gentleman of Jazz, the kind of Great Man that Kipling wrote about, who walked with kings but never lost the common touch.
Mr. Lewis proved you can be both a serious artist and a crowd-pleasing entertainer. His worldwide reach and influence as a performer, educator, broadcaster, and recording artist, is profound, deep and lasting.
He was called, he served, he counted.
His legacy is secure.