Month: January 2018

First Lady of Song

First Lady of Song

“That night in Berlin, we were in front of twelve thousand people and at the end of a midnight concert. We had played Brussels earlier, flown to Berlin and been up for twenty-two hours. We were all so tired we couldn’t hold our heads up, when Ella turns around and says, ‘Let’s do “Mack the Knife.”

“My heart sank. I was too tired. We were in front of too many people to try something crazy, and I knew Ella didn’t know the tune. I said, ‘Well, golly Ella…’ but before I could say anymore she had turned around and was announcing it.”

Wilfred Middlebrooks, Ella Fitzgerald’s bassist that night, describing the night Ella, my favorite singer and the best Jazz singer that ever lived, sang Mack the Knife live in front of 12,000 Germans, forgot the words, and got her 5th and 6th Grammy Awards.

April 25th would’ve been Ella’s 100th birthday. This summer proved to be the best summer I’ve had thus far in my life, and in my mind’s eye, it started that night. That night, I was sitting in a San Antonio hotel room eating chocolate Rice Krispie treats, writing the earliest draft of what eventually became this essay, and listening to Midnight Sun, probably my favorite Ella song from one of my favorite Ella albums, her recording of The Johnny Mercer Songbook. Continue reading “First Lady of Song”

Blanket

Blanket

On July 4th 2015, I went to Indianapolis Motor Speedway to see The Rolling Stones.

It was a wonderful concert, and a memorable day for many reasons. That day was the beginning of my current personal favorite tradition: roadtrips, especially for concerts or vacations, and at the time it was my longest drive to and from a single destination. Traffic close to the Speedway was ridiculous; I saw numerous people bail out of cars (that were admittedly not moving), run into buildings to either use the restroom or emerge with drinks and/or sandwiches, and run halfway down the block to catch their car. I’ll never forget getting lost when leaving the concert, getting lost in the Speedway, belatedly realizing I’d been driving progressively farther and farther from the lights for several minutes, that I was driving around in the infield, that I was likely on some security radar somewhere, and that I’d better turn around right now or they’d send someone to collect me.

I think of that concert more than any other concert than I’ve ever been to, but not for the reasons I ever expected to. Continue reading “Blanket”