Shirley Rafael
I entered Aaron Davis Hall, CCNY’s premier performance venue, feeling awkward since I'd never been there before and flushed in the face thanks to the climb across St. Nicholas Park. As I began to set up the registration table for the day, I found it ironic that I, a communications student with only one Introduction to Jazz class under my belt, would be the first face the performers would see as they entered the CUNY Jazz Festival on that rainy morning of Friday, May 9th.
Professor Michael Holober, organizer of the CUNY Jazz Festival, teamed up with Suzanne Pittson, Chair of the Music Department, to lead the event. This annual festival is a collaborative celebration of jazz and jazz education, bringing together jazz ensembles from multiple CUNY campuses. Alongside CCNY undergraduate, graduate, and faculty ensembles, ensembles from Hunter College, Lehman College, BMCC, LaGuardia Community College, and York College all performed. Special guest Helen Sung, a pianist and composer, performed and taught a master class to kick off the festival. Then this year’s featured performer, the world-renowned trumpeter, composer, and bandleader Randy Brecker, gave a master class and performed with his quintet for the festival finale.
The musicians began trickling and then streaming in bright-faced and hair stuck to their temples from the humid weather. They lugged in their instruments, hidden inside gig bags and worn covers, and gently set them down on the floor before they turned to fumble for their IDs. Aaron Davis Hall came alive. As each student found their ensemble, the excited and nervous chatter rose in volume. “Do you think improvisation requires a lot of thinking, professor?” “No guys, I think we should do the note a bit higher like this…” “I couldn't get off from work, so technically I'm only on an extended break.”
The various conversations were entertaining, but my attention began to turn from those lobby sounds to the echo of a saxophone inside the theater. The music leaked between the heavy metal doors whenever someone entered or exited the theater, and in those few seconds, my legs would make a futile attempt to follow along to the beat of the music.
When the next student worker arrived to take over the registration, I was finally able to follow that tune into the theater and watch the musicians play. As I made my way in, I quickly realized I had walked into the middle of a performance; thankfully, the warm primary-colored lights on the stage dimmed my untimely entrance. The music soon stole my attention. I thought I knew what jazz sounded like, but the music that came from my headphones fell short in comparison to what I was actually experiencing there—live.
The bandleader snapped their fingers and swung their arms. The piano, bass, and guitar provided gentle support to the melody that the saxophone played. The saxophone was smooth, while the drums—tapped gently with wire brushes—supported the sax with soft, swishing sounds, like delicate crunches. There were times when I could just see the players immerse themselves in their instruments, their brows furrowed in complete concentration as the warm glow of the lights reflected off the sweat on their hairline.
The audience whistled and applauded for each of the soloing musicians. I felt like a snake in front of its charmer, and the grinning classmates, proud parents, and professors seemed just as enchanted as I was. There were times when the vocalist would jump in, and I would want to clap or cheer, but I was simply too awestruck to move. Every note was played with purpose, creating a unique interpretation of the song.
After the performance concluded, I got out of my seat and started making my way back out of the theater. I had a hard time believing that live music could be such an intimate and full immersive experience. As I pushed open the doors of Aaron Davis Hall, I walked into the muggy air, smiling to myself, elated. The music still rang in my ears despite being several walls behind me like a tangible thing, substantial and solid. I felt a new sense of connection, not just to the music but also to the jazz community that had welcomed me.