10 Signs That A Jazz Fan Is Getting Old....

I am not getting old, I am getting wise :)

1. When you go to a jazz festival and you've never heard of any of the participating musicians,
but you can name the entire personnel of Woody Herman's First Herd, plus the guys in the 1938 Basie band.
(Uh, oh, how about if you can name the 1978 and 1998 Basie bands?)

2. When you can't whistle the first four bars of the latest chart hit,
but you can sing the complete version of Annie Ross's "Twisted".
(This is my favorite song - shouldn't you know the lyrics of your favorite song????)

3. When you can differentiate between the sound of the clarinets of Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw,
but you can't tell what instrument's taking a solo on the new CD by the latest band the critics are raving about.
(I always ask the name of the instrument and try to provide information on my website about all those cool newly integrated types from Australia and Africa, usually not newly created.)

4. When you listen to a recent recording by Anita O'Day,
you still visualize the woman in the cartwheel hat at Newport almost 50 years ago.
(Well, I just listened to an LP autographed in late 70's, so it is a vision of Anita 25 years ago.)

5. When you look at a list of reissues on CD,
and find that you’ve got them all on the LPs you bought to replace your 78s (which you still have in the attic).
Most of my LPs are autographed - never had the 78s.

6. When you look through your collection of CDs,
and find several you don't remember buying, and several more you can't remember ever playing.
This is a devoted fan - young and old

7. When as far as you are concerned,
avant-garde jazz is anything after 1960.
Hmmmm - this is an interesting concept indeed - and one that I want to address as a historian.

8. When you hear a tune on the radio, and you know it's the Ellington band,
but you can't remember the title. (It turns out to be 'Take the 'A' Train').
It would have to be an incredible disguise or your memory would have to be temporarily blocked. 

9. You don't go to the local jazz club anymore,
because it's too far and the music doesn't start until 10:30.
Will this ever happen to me?  I doubt it - maybe if I ever found that partner in life that would entice me to stay home with him instead...like I said I have my doubts, but I never say never, and my middle name is Hope!

10. When you realize that the national newspapers, which for almost a century ignored jazz,
now regularly print feature articles on some of your heroes - in the obituary column.
Ouch, this one really hurts - yes this is another problem, yet a motivation of the jazz historian, as I have had to write a few obituaries lately---these are balanced by the rave reviews of the living jazz musicians that hopefully will survive.