As I am recovering from the end of my relationship with Barb, music has had a heightened importance in my emotional life. I buy a cassette tape of John Coltrane’s 1961 Live at the Village Vanguard and I listen to it endlessly in my room on Pinewood.
We are drawn to the Village Vanguard by its reputation but it is incredible good fortune to discover that Pharoah Sanders is performing.
I have the same table that we had the last time I was here. Esperanza Spalding is unable to play her bass because of some sort of wrist injury.
I wheel Bill into his office where we scan his CD collection. He always picks out a few tracks he wants me to hear. Today he plays a song by Kenny Barron explaining that when the MS finally takes his life, he wants that song played repeatedly at his funeral.
Bill’s funeral is tomorrow. I play for Dee the song Bill had requested, explaining that he wanted it played continuously. She refuses to permit it. She always hated Bill’s jazz and hearing the same song over-and-over would be too much for her. As a compromise I make up a tape of assorted Kenny Barron songs, slipping Bill’s requested track in as every fourth one.