A Tin Cup for Jazz: Why Aren't We Listening?

I've done it. I've become one of those people I hate: I went to Europe, came back and now every sentence begins with... "When I was in France." This, I hate to say, is going to be one of those moments. Here's a whole mess of sentences: When I was in France, I went to the Paris Jazz Festival; When I was at the Paris Jazz Festival, I was struck by how many Parisians were crowding the stage, how long the improvisations lasted, how avant-garde the performance, how eclectic the roster of musicians was. Now, everyone had told me, before I went to Europe, how different it would be. "We're rock stars in Europe," a jazz musician had told me, and I have to admit, I was skeptical. After all, how many nights had I sat in a club and listened to the quartet become background noise to the chattering of voices, the jubilant clanking of glasses? How many times had I heard someone say, "Jazz...I just don't get it," as if it were a foreign language? But there I was in the Parc Floral de Paris, where were thousands of Parisians laid out on blankets among Monet landscapes, sipping wine, listening intently, crowding the stage for a better look. And though there was not a single bra thrown, there was adoration.

When I returned home to tell this story, mostly people nodded, some were interested, and others were defensive. "There are dozens of big jazz festivals in the United States every where," one told me with a snarl. "Maybe you were just enchanted with France." Okay, admittedly, I'm at that stage where I begin every sentence with "When I was in..." and so I can admit there's some rose-colored enchantment going on, but-But, I was told by jazz musicians who have played in both countries before I left that they feel different playing in Europe. They feel like "rock stars," in Europe. Though it's true that there are dozens of jazz festivals in the US, many of them well attended, it's not true that the musicians feel equally appreciated in the US as they do overseas.