As I entered Bailey, I thought that the jazz performance was going to be something really good because Bailey was set up in a nice way. After a few minutes of playing, I couldn’t really find harmony in the music/noises. Actually, even after the performance was over and I thought about what I just heard, I still couldn’t find any harmony in the music/ noises. It seemed that each musician was kind of playing independently from the others and none of the music/ noises really flowed well together. It’s possible that maybe I just didn’t understand the music because I’m not used to hearing jazz but I still believe that there was no harmony in what I heard on that night.  Despite the dissonance, I kind of thought that the guy that was playing the drums was better than the other musicians. It’s possible that I liked him the best  because his instrument wasn’t really making a sound that I disliked and it actually kind of had a beat to it.

Although my first jazz concert was not what I expected, I still think that I might try out another concert in the future. However, I don’t intend on listening to he same band I probably will not have really high expectations for the concert.

There was no denying that there were moments of auditory perfection during the Jazz Concert, but non-the-less it sucked. It felt like an argument with five different people at the same time – monolog-ish. Perhaps my untrained Jazz ears couldn’t fully appreciate the avant-garde Jazz band, but that still does not detract from the fact that it was unappealing if you were not a connoisseur of Jazz. If you did not grow up playing Jazz instruments, played in a Jazz band, had the money to go to several Jazz concerts and/or had the privilege to listen to the best this type of Jazz wouldn’t of been fitting to your cochlear tendencies. Jazz is a cultural phenomenon, an art grown from the poor (as most arts are) and, soon discovered, taken for the rich. Looking across Bailey’s Concert Hall, middle to upper class white men filled the seats and blurted out loud “WOWs” during the performance, where I, a low-income woman of color, am left with the “WHYs”. This specific concert was for the socially refined and culturally specific. It lacked social capital diversity and (to say the least) pompous in it’s attempts. I entered Bailey Hall hoping to reach further into my African Roots and love for New Orleans, and I left feeling more out of place at Cornell than I ever had.

Last night I attended Made in Chicago, a concert in Bailey Hall featuring prominent performers in the jazz world. Much to everyone’s surprise, the music was what would be considered “avant-garde jazz” instead of the mainstream variety. At least in my opinion, this was a great disappointment. It’s typically good to try new things, but in this case, the experience was less than enjoyable. Avant-garde jazz consists of long stretches of monotonous sounds punctured by frenzied noise in a blur of overpowering instrumentals. It also uses an experimental approach in creatively applying traditional instruments to make sounds that sound not-so-melodic. There were only brief moments when the band, comprised of a pianist, drummer, cellist, saxophonist, flute player, and others, resembled the upbeat tunes of a band that one could envision Swing dancing to. Perhaps avant-garde jazz, with its strange combination of tediousness and chaos, is an acquired taste, but it seems highly unlikely that I’ll ever catch on.

Here’s a sample:

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On Sunday, October 4th, Jack DeJohnette’s Made in Chicago, was a sonic reflection of my life. The avant-garde jazz music was not like great consonance to my ears. It was a feeling – one that was too familiar.

The great dissonance and chaos that pulled the music together reminded me of life. Alone, each sound was beautiful, but together it they were misunderstood. Yet they painted a picture, not easily seen or understood. The sounds never truly stopped. Continuous sounds that strung the audience along, indicating that there was more. With every selection, every featured instrument seemed to take the lead on transitioning into the next song, and back to the chaos. By the end of the show, it made sense. They had just told a beautiful story – one not quite understand or beautiful as other jazz stories.

In an odd way, my life is very similar. Every goal, opportunity, or person, in my life is beautiful. All together it can be hectic, frustrating and not easily understood. Even during the show I could not snap out of my reality to truly enjoy, as I had to engage with the many facets of my life at once – just like the music. Yet, living is a beautiful thing! One great opportunity, family event, or friendship experience, keeps me going from one part of life to the next – similar to the selections of the show. And when I’m old, with beautiful gray hair, in a state of life, I could have only dreamed of, like Made in Chicago, I will see a much bigger and more beautiful picture. One that might not be understood or seen by all, but one that reflects the intricacies and beauties of the life I have lived.

At the end of the day, life really seems to be an endless cycle of confusion and beauty.