The Record Connection, Waterville, Maine

Tom writes:

We decided to learn more about the state of vinyl in the state of Maine, and made a pilgrimage to the city of Waterville where we found The Record Connection.  The store is a used book and record shop, located a few miles off I95, and a good 50 miles or so from where we live, but, as we discovered, well worth the trip.  It does not hurt that there is a fine brew pub at about the midway point where Bethany loves getting her ass kicked in Rummy.

Digging through the stacks, we quickly uncovered 7 nice finds, at least half of which are not, and will not, be released on CD, which is one of the really great things about getting vinyl. There is a whole garden of music out there that would otherwise be inaccessible because some record company nimrod didn't think it would sell. He/she/it should probably talk to Bob, the owner of Record Connection, (in the photo to your left) for some insight into the market and possibly a good plastic surgeon to remove his/her/its head from his/her/its ass. But I digress......

Two rekkids in this recent haul were by pianist/composer Ahmad Jamal, one of the most overlooked and under-appreciated artists alive today(Ahmad is pushing 81 and still on the road).  Those who know him, or at least of him, associate the tune "Poinciana" with him. It is not one of his compositions, but it might as well be, since he is one of these musicians who can own a tune, regardless of the performance practices of other artists (even the composers) . Not to say that he is disrespectful, far from it. He brings the music into himself and breathes a piece of his life back out, like the way plants take in CO2 and give back oxygen (one other artist who is very, very good at this is Richie Havens) .

One rekkid that we got, "Poinciana", illustrates not only this highly original approach, but also Ahmad's equally impressive command of texture and shape. Listening to a performance of Ahmad Jamal is not like listening to a grand soliloquy like Charlie Parker, or like a revival sermon like Monk. It is more like listening to a great-Uncle tell you stories of his childhood, punctuated by belly laughs, sighs, groans, and overflowing with the joy of having just barely missed that homerun and not quite getting the homecoming queen.

Ahmad's phrases flow along, and occasionally burst into blossoms of sound and color, yet never overwhelming or overstating. In no tune is this more clear than in his performance of "Autumn Leaves", from the "Poinciana" album. He so carefully uses texture to create shapes within the structure of the tune, and is very conscious of meaning and context.  Ideas develop and return, as in the best "composed" music (I know a few composers, myself among them, who would give their eye-teeth to write with that kind of acuity, much less improvise).

For me, the blossoms that fly from Ahmad's hands are the same blossoms that we found in the stacks at Record Connection, which in turn is yet another blossom we found on a side street in Waterville.