#piano montuno

[ajrdileva]

How To Play A Piano Montuno on Any Song

Playing piano montunos can transform any song, giving it that infectious Latin groove that makes everyone want to move. Today, we’ll take a jazz standard like “Satin Doll” and turn it into a piano montuno. By the end of this lesson, you’ll know how to create a montuno pattern from any chord progression and apply these concepts to any montuno pattern you want. Step 1: Choose Your Montuno…

[quatregats]

Ethnomusicology classes are fun because the professors will put on some music and be like what do you notice about this and the other students all just start clapping out complex rhythms or playing impeccable Montuno riffs

[elmartillosinmetre]

Roberto Sierra, sonatas del trópico

[Roberto Sierra (Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, 1953) / UMKC LIBRARIES]

Coinciden en IBS Classical un monográfico con sonatas pianísticas de Roberto Sierra y el estreno discográfico de su Trío con trompa

A Roberto Sierra (Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, 1953) lo había puesto muy de moda entre nosotros en los últimos años el pianista motrileño Juan Carlos Garvayo, que grabó para Naxos con su Trío Arbós la integral de los Tríos con piano del maestro y programó con frecuencia su obra para piano solo, hasta terminar registrando en 2016 para IBS Classical un seminal CD con sus Boleros y montunos, música que hasta entonces estaba casi inédita. Pudo descubrirse ahí a un compositor que, desde una base sólida anclada en el conocimiento de la vanguardia europea, mostraba un afán ardiente por la comunicación, y por eso su música se llena de referencias a ritmos y melodías populares, al jazz, a la canción latinoamericana...

En 2020, Sierra viró hacia la escritura de sonatas, comenzando con las tres que en marzo de 2022 grabó el venezolano Alfredo Ovalles en el Auditorio Manuel de Falla de Granada para este disco publicado por IBS Classical. Es este un camino que el mismo Sierra reconoce que no sabe a dónde lo llevará. Para Ovalle, el mundo de las Sonatas de Roberto Sierra tiene mucho que ver con aquella visión mahleriana de la sinfonía como contenedor universal, como gran imagen del mundo. “Las Sonatas abarcan un mundo que va desde la Europa central, donde su estructura se solidifica en la segunda mitad del siglo XVIII hasta la región de Hispanoamérica y el Caribe en los siglos XX y XXI”, opina el pianista caraqueño.

Y el compositor afirma: “Al no utilizar la tonalidad como base para mis obras, cada Sonata expone una propuesta singular entre las relaciones de la estructura y el contenido sonoro. Elementos de ritmo, de escalas simétricas y de gestos musicales se constituyen como demarcaciones formales”.

Una forma que estructuralmente se amarra a la tradición clásica (las dos primeras obras están divididas en cuatro movimientos y la tercera en tres), con referencias claras a la forma sonata, permitiendo en efecto desarrollos temáticos perfectamente independientes. Sierra explicita así su tradicional uso de materiales folclóricos: “En la 1ª sonata se destacan las figuras salseras del piano [el cuarto movimiento aparece marcado justamente como ‘Salseado’] y en la 2ª sonata se escuchan en el tercer movimiento elementos derivados del joropo venezolano, así como en el cuarto movimiento se escucha una marcha militar que se funde con un pasodoble. La 3ª sonata recoge elementos de la música andaluza”.

Con ello, el gran maestro caribeño se sitúa en efecto en esa posición a lo Mahler que le otorga Ovalles: “Mi intención es decantar, eliminar ese carácter pétreo y hegemónico que se le atribuyó al formato, el cual entiendo como un gran contenedor o esquema abstracto con posibilidades de moldear a mi manera”. Así, “cada obra presenta una mirada distinta eso que llamamos sonata, y que a mi entender se puede recrear, romper y volver a armar. Este rumbo de desterritorialización y reterritorialización es el que he continuado en todas ellas”. Dicho de otra forma, Sierra ha extraído la idea de la sonata, europea y dieciochesca, de su nicho y lo ha hecho germinar en su entorno, es decir, la ha tropicalizado (el concepto es suyo).

Ovalles completa su disco con las Piezas íntimas de 2017 –“el punto que más me interesó para empezar a abordar su obra para piano”–, ocho piezas cortas que “engloban de una manera muy concentrada el lenguaje pianístico de Roberto” y los Aphorisms de 2020, “28 fragmentos que le hacen honor a su nombre, siendo cada uno de ellos una sentencia breve que propone lo que para mí son los principios compositivos de Roberto en su versión más pura y concisa, cada uno de ellos explorando el rango dinámico y sonoro del instrumento en cuestión de segundos”.

Roberto Sierra fue el “discípulo portorriqueño” de György Ligeti. Acaso por ello, cuando el violinista Miguel Colom, concertino de la ONE, el trompista Manuel Escauriaza y el pianista Denis Pascal decidieron dedicar una grabación a los tríos para trompa de Brahms (1865) y Ligeti (1982) encargaron a Sierra una nueva obra para completar el álbum. El portorriqueño trabajó en ella entre 2020 y 2021, hasta poco antes de la grabación del CD, hecha también para IBS e igualmente en el Auditorio Manuel de Falla de Granada en diciembre de aquel año.

Al respecto del encargo comentaba Sierra: “Yo vi nacer el Trío de Ligeti y estuve en su estreno. Recuerdo que una tarde en su apartamento me dice: ‘Roberto, quiero que escuches esto’. Se sienta al piano y toca el comienzo del segundo movimiento (Vivacissimo). Inmediatamente me preguntó: ‘¿Te suena caribeño?’. Le contesto con una sonrisa: '¡No tanto, me suena más bien búlgaro!’. Él, por supuesto, se refería a los ritmos derivados de la clave salsera, a los que yo le había hecho familiar”.

En cualquier caso, y pese a la indiscutible influencia ligetiana, el maestro portorriqueño escribe una obra “tan distante de Ligeti como de Brahms”. Una vez más la gestación parte de su entorno natural. Así, si “el impulso inicial fue la preocupación por los aspectos formales y la búsqueda de un lenguaje armónico y melódico con un engranaje coherente”, los elementos rítmicos “están ligados a esos aspectos de la música caribeña que han sido siempre centrales en mi obra”. El peso de lo local, una vez más, como fundamento de una obra de pretensiones universales, recogida aquí en este par de álbumes de IBS, que le ha dedicado también otros discos al compositor.

[Diario de Sevilla. 21-05-2023]

EL CD DE ALFREDO OVALLES EN SPOTIFY

HORN TRIOS EN SPOTIFY

[knawer]

Un poco de salsa en piano espero le guste sique mi canal para ver mas videos de salsa y otros generos musicales 

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCthyqNm3W6uPzRXISvJw8Nw

[allmusic]

AllMusic Staff Pick: Eddie Palmieri La Perfecta

One of the best albums released by one of Palmieri's best bands, La Perfecta features 12 crisp, uptempo songs ranging from guajiras to pachangas to sones montuno -- with a cha-cha-cha thrown in for good measure. Palmieri sounds inspired on piano, vocalist Ismael Quintana leads the group well, and the stinging brass section includes Joao Donato on trombone and Willie Matos on trumpet.

- John Bush

[ajrdileva]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Playing Piano Montuno

IntroductionUnlock the rhythmic magic of Latin piano with our comprehensive guide to mastering the Montuno style. In this blog post, we’ll break down an 8-step exercise based on the iconic piano arrangement from Gloria Estefan’s “Conga.” Whether you’re a seasoned pianist or a beginner looking to delve into the world of Latin grooves, this step-by-step breakdown will help you understand the…

[salsa-history-project]

Cultural Fusion in Boogaloo

With our course in full swing, I realize the pattern of cultural fusion developing with every dance. The Son, Danzon and Rumba fused Afro-Cuban culture with European tradition and elite cultures. However, though there was intertwining of cultures that paved the way for popular music, the fusion was dismissive of the marginalized culture (Afro-Cuban). But, along came the Boogaloo to New York in the 1960′s. The Boogaloo was a celebrated fusion of two cultures; Blacks and Puerto Ricans. It incorporated elements reflective of popular music culture among blacks and Puerto Ricans, but also catered to the American popular music of the 1960′s. The music was reflective and relatable. The idea of Boogaloo was that, “both musical idioms be present, and that both the Latino and the African-American publics find something of their own to relate to” (Flores, “Cha-Cha with a Backbeat” pg. 81). The boogaloo is separate from early cultural fusions in that its entire existence insists that cultural fusion take place, that both cultures be expressed. 

The Boogaloo, like the Son, acts like a cultural music revolution. Younger generations wanted to create something of their own. Further, many of them had grown up in America using English far more than the previous generation. Boogaloo incorporated English, not just to appeal to non-Latino audiences but also for the generation of “Nuyoricans” (Flores, “Cha-Cha with a Backbeat” pg. 83). The incorporation of the English language into Latin music helped to bridge the gap between Latin music and dance and American music. Furthermore, the sound became popular among the American counterculture of the 1960′s. Juan Flores describes a Boogaloo song, “Boogaloo Blues” that was popular among the young generation as, “an acid trip, an orgasm, a loud party, a brooding reverie, a taunt and seduction, all to a fusion of bluesy jazz piano, r&b vocalizing and outbursts of montunos and Latin rhythms” (Flores, “Cha-Cha with a Backbeat” pg. 89). Suggesting that these elements were reflective of the younger generations cultural and musical tastes. 

Though the Boogaloo was a fusion of cultures and had become massively popular, its rise and fall happened swiftly. The Boogaloo had been made popular by consumerism. It was for a time the “next big thing”. Boogaloo artists had been pushed to the limit, performing often with little monetary gain for themselves. Recording studios were pushing out music the public was willing to pay for and the Boogaloo became a commodity rather than a tradition. As soon as Boogaloo artists united and challenged this treatment by big studios they were easily replaced. But, as quickly as the fad came, it was pushed aside for the new “next big thing” in New York, Salsa! (Flores, “Cha-Cha with a Backbeat” pg. 91)

[elmartillosinmetre]

Vivir y grabar en Granada

[Paco Moya ha hecho de Granada el centro del disco clásico en España. La foto es de Carmen Navarro]

En apenas siete años de existencia, el profesor y productor granadino Paco Moya ha convertido IBS Classical en uno de los sellos discográficos más importantes de España

Obviamente en su DNI figura el nombre de Francisco, pero para todo el mundo de la música es Paco, Paco Moya, un granadino que ha revolucionado el sector del disco clásico, y lo ha hecho manteniendo de forma paralela su puesto de profesor en el Conservatorio Superior Victoria Eugenia de Granada hasta este mismo mes de septiembre en que ha pedido la excedencia.

–33 años de profesor de música en conservatorio le dan una posición estupenda para decirme qué falla en el sistema educativo musical español. –Desde la perspectiva del alumno, la formación es demasiado teórica. En el momento en que salen de España todos se dan cuenta. Sobre el profesorado, el sistema está mal planteado. Hay grandes figuras que no pueden acceder a los Conservatorios Superiores porque no tienen un doctorado o un máster; a algunos te los encuentras incluso dando piano complementario en un Conservatorio Profesional. Es un desperdicio. ¿Qué necesidad hay de que en un Superior todos los profesores sean catedráticos? ¿Por qué no se han desarrollado esos puntos de la ley que permitían el acceso a la docencia a los grandes intérpretes? Le pongo un ejemplo: el guitarrista Ricardo Gallén, uno de los mejores del mundo, puede dar clases en conservatorios superiores de Noruega o de Suiza, pero no de España. Es absurdo. Y luego alguien, sin necesidad de tener experiencia, por el hecho de tener un máster en cualquier tema de musicología y de pasar una prueba, se pone a dar clases en un Superior. Los profesores no tienen la culpa, por supuesto, pero el sistema no es el mejor, y yo decidí no entrar en este juego y dedicarme en exclusiva al sello.

–¿Cómo se hizo productor discográfico en una época en la que no se venden discos? –Siempre tuve mucha preocupación por la tecnología, por lo que la tecnología podía aportar a la música. Empecé con los primeros editores informáticos de partituras y luego salté al sonido. Compré mis primeros equipos básicos en 2005, aconsejado por lo que me decían en España. Hice mis primeras pruebas y llegué a la conclusión de que era todo un desastre, en España no existía especialización ninguna en registro de música clásica. En la Orquesta Ciudad de Granada me dijeron que a ellos venían a grabarlos de Berlín. Pedí estar en algunas sesiones para aprender y luego me fui directamente a Berlín. Entre lo que vi aquí y lo que allí me enseñaron, empecé a hacerme poco a poco de un equipo profesional dedicado a la música clásica de verdad. Y con mi mujer [Gloria Medina] decidimos montar un estudio de grabación, Iberia.

–¿Por qué decide dar el salto a la producción y crear IBS Classical, su propio sello? –Después de seis años trabajando para muchos intérpretes nos dimos cuenta de que nuestro trabajo no tenía trascendencia pública ni difusión. Le dábamos un máster impecable a un músico, sí, pero, ¿qué podían hacer con eso? En 2011 decidimos lanzarnos a por el sello, que empieza a funcionar al año siguiente.

–Los problemas se multiplicarían, claro. –Totalmente. El más importante de todos, el de la distribución. Sin catálogo los distribuidores no te atienden. Contactamos con Klaus Heymann, de Naxos, que nos dijo que le gustaba nuestro trabajo, que cuando tuviéramos un catálogo volviéramos a llamar. Si no tienes distribución no aumentas el catálogo, y sin el catálogo no entras en las redes de distribución. Fueron 3 o 4 años duros, de una auténtica travesía del desierto, de hacer discos a pulmón, sin esperar que hubiera el mínimo retorno económico, reduciéndonos a una distribución nacional. Todo cambió cuando en 2016 nos nominan a los Grammy un disco de la pianista Edith Peña, Danzas en todos los tiempos. Naxos nos llamó entonces y gracias a ellos tenemos hoy distribución física en todos los grandes países de Europa y América. La clave es que el producto (en formato físico o digital) llegue a todo el mundo.

–Pero el formato físico se extingue. –Sony ha cerrado ya su fábrica de cedés vírgenes. Acabo de volver de Estados Unidos, donde nos llevan la distribución digital, y me dicen que el soporte físico tiene los días contados.

–¿Y por qué cree que está resistiendo tanto? –Hay un sector aferrado al disco físico: el crítico, el locutor de radio, el distribuidor que necesita enseñarlo. Y hay todavía aficionados enamorados del objeto, como en el caso de los libros.

–¿Se puede vivir de los stores digitales, de las plataformas? –Son fundamentales. Spotify te paga 0,004 euros por escucha. Pero yo tengo discos que han tenido medio millón de escuchas, y eso son 2 mil euros. Qué disco físico me da eso. Mandar un cedé en España me cuesta 5 euros, el coste de fabricación del objeto físico otros 4 o 5 euros, y si se agota hay que reeditar. En cambio, el producto digital llega instantáneamente a Nueva Zelanda, a Asia, a Groenlandia... No se acaba nunca y no necesita ni mantenimiento ni transporte. Además, nosotros grabamos ya en sistema DXD (Digital eXtreme Definition), que da una resolución de 352,8 KHz. Un CD te da 44 KHz. Spotify no puede absorber aún esa resolución, pero están surgiendo portales que sí. Así que un melómano exigente con un portátil y un conversor de 700-800 euros está escuchando a la misma resolución que yo en mi estudio. No hay color.

–¿Cuenta cuesta hacer un disco, y quién lo paga, el sello o el intérprete? –Incluido todo, la comunicación y la distribución también, un CD puede salir por 15 o 16 mil euros. Hacemos un contrato de coproducción al 50%.

–¿Cuántos discos están haciendo por año? –En 2017 fueron 25, pero este año llegaremos a 30 y tenemos el plan de 2019 completo: damos fecha ya para 2020.

–¿Puede adelantar algo de esos planes? –De forma natural, Asier Polo se ha convertido en nuestro artista de referencia y vamos a hacer varios discos con él: grabará las Suites de Bach, hará un disco con Eldar Nebolsin, un Don Quijote con la Jonde, que ya está grabado, y un disco de conciertos de Haydn y Boccherini con la Orquesta Barroca de Sevilla. También grabará para nosotros Josu de Solaun, y nos vienen diversos músicos españoles que trabajan en Estados Unidos y algunos grupos americanos, como los Solistas del Lincoln Center o de la Orquesta de Pittsburgh. Hay también un proyecto Elgar con la ONE y otras muchas cosas. Ahora estoy contentísimo porque acabamos de lograr dos nominaciones para los Grammy de este año: mejor disco clásico, las Goyescas de Granados que grabó José Menor, y mejor composición contemporánea, el Montuno en forma de chacona de Roberto Sierra, que fue un encargo del Festival de Música Española de Cádiz e hizo Silvia Márquez al clave en su CD Chaconnerie.

–Algún sueño. –Uno que se cumplió ya. Lo de Alfred Brendel. Cuando entré en su casa de Londres se me saltaron las lágrimas de la emoción. Y me encantaría coger mis trastos e irme a grabar a cualquiera de las grandes orquestas, Concertgebouw, Berliner... No sé si podría resistir la primera prueba de sonido.

[Diario de Sevilla. 24-09-2018]

[frankiethemusician]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Frankie Hidalgo (@frankiethemusician)

Here’s my warm up before I record this! This rhythm is called gaita, it comes from Maracaibo, Venezuela 🇻🇪, this is popularly played at Christmas time. Full video on IGTV I want to dedicate this song to all my Venezuelan family and friends who may be away from their countries during this holiday season and those in the country currently suffering the political strife. My prayers for you :) Thank you @richard_cucho @songpati for keeping me in mind for your projects! Thank you Surrey for keeping us musicians busy! @surreylatinfest #piano #latinpiano #pianoplayer #petrof #exposedpiano #gaita #venezuela #godprotects #gaitazuliana #zulia #maracaibo #maracuchos #vergacion #barlovento #music #noboundaries #musician #musicianlife #diversity #montuno #conswing #instamusic #instamusician #instamusicians #instamusica #navidad #navidad2020 #surrey #surreylatinfestival https://www.instagram.com/p/CIBsMQ1Aens/?igshid=dhkusy915c3r

[guillemelgat]

Song/canción: Boom Boom Tarara Genre/género: Afro-Cuban/bomba Band-singer/grupo-cantante: Ricardo Lemvo & Makina Loca Where are they from/de dónde son: Democratic Republic of the Congo

I wanted to put up a song for the música diversa en castellano challenge but I wasn’t sure what to put up until I remembered this song. It’s an extremely nostalgic song for me and I used to belt out the lyrics even back in the days when I was sworn against speaking Spanish (don’t ask, I was a weird child). It was on an album of songs for kids from around the world that I loved, which is called World Playground and I would highly recommend listening to it even as a teenager/adult if you want a starting point for finding music from different countries.

One of the most interesting things for me is that Ricardo Lemvo is from the Democratic Republic of the Congo and is not a native Spanish speaker in any way, but came across music in Spanish because Cuban music, which was itself (mostly West but probably partially Central) African in origin, returned to Africa and became really popular there (here’s another really nostalgic song for me by Senegalese band Orchestra Baobab which is a cover of the classic Afro-Cuban song “El son te llama”). I found a really interesting liner-note by Lemvo describing how he got into making music like this, which was to integrate Cuban montuno piano in with Congolese guitar, and mix languages to bridge the gap between Cuba and Africa (this wasn’t really a novel idea, but he does it really well, especially in this song). This song in particular talks about lots of different styles of Latin music and all the places they’ve spread, and I feel like it’s a really cool embodiment of the Afro-Caribbean musical diaspora in the Spanish language, so I thought it would be appropriate for this project. Anyhow, enough rambling from me, here’s the song: 

Mi primo de Nueva York My cousin from New York Dice que hay bomba en Manhattan Says that there’s bomba in Manhattan Yo digo que esto es mentira Says that it’s a lie Porque la bomba es de Puerto Rico Because the bomba is from Puerto Rico Dice que allí en Miami He says that over in Miami Hay rumba en Calle Ocho There’s rumba on Calle Ocho Esto yo no lo dudo I don’t doubt that Pero la timba es de la Havana But the timba is from Havana Chorus: Oye hermanito Hey, little brother Prepararme los cueros Get the drum skins ready for me Ahí viene bomba boom boom Here comes the bomba boom boom Y esta bomba no es de Boston And this bomba isn’t from Boston Pa’ mi gente en Santo Domingo For my people in Santo Domingo Colombia y Venezuela Colombia and Venezuela Le traigo bomba boom boom I’m bringing them bomba boom boom Con todito meu coração With every bit of my heart Por eso yo te repito That’s why I’m telling you again Preparar ya los cueros Go and get the drums skins ready Ahí viene bomba boom boom Here comes the bomba boom boom Y lo canto pa’l mundo entero And I’ll sing it for the whole world (Chorus) Mama ey! Oh mama! Papa ey! Oh papa! Ahí viene bomba boom boom Oh, here comes the bomba boom boom Y esta bomba no es de Boston And this bomba isn’t from Boston Mama ey! Oh mama! Mama ey! Oh mama! Papa ey! Oh papa! Ay viene bomba boom boom Oh, here comes the bomba boom boom Que me voy a gozar I’m going off to have a good time Boom boom tarara Boom boom tarara Esa bomba es para bailar This bomba is for dancing Esa bomba es para gozar This bomba is for enjoying

(also there’s a part of this that’s in a different language, I’m not sure if it’s in Kikongo, Lingala, or something else, but if you do recognize/understand it and can send me the lyrics and/or a translation I’d be happy to put it up!)

[jaimedelcastillojaramillo]

🇵🇪 CONGRATÚLATE OÍDO 👂 Salsa Con Causa con programa de estreno, este lunes 10/05/21, a las 8.00pm, hora de Perú 🇵🇪 y siempre por Mambo Inn Radio www.mamboinnradio.com En esta edición escucharemos para la crítica al longevo cantante boricua Andy Montañez en su paso por Cuba 🇨🇺 quien declaró medias verdades sobre el origen de la Salsa y se presentó con la orquesta del maestro Manolito Simonet, de Cuba 🇨🇺 y como sabemos Manolito Simonet es un excepcional tecladista de TIMBA o sea, hacer Montunos de Piano para música tradicional cubana es cosa menuda o sencilla, por eso no tuvieron ningún problema en acompañar al boricua Andy Montañez cantando una Guaracha, pero el anciano Niño de Trastalleres ya no da con su voz gastada y en algunos momentos se fue de nota y hasta gritó en algunos pasajes y a simple oído. Y mucho más, con la crítica especializada de Jaime Del Castillo Jaramillo y con la Co-conducción del jovencito Arturo Del Castillo Yap o El Asistente Técnico Salsero, quien es músico multi-instrumentista y lee partituras y pueden ver sus videos en su cuenta Instagram: arturodelcastillomusico. IMPORTANTE: Nuestro programa: "SALSA CON CAUSA" ha producido más de 200 programas difundidos por Internet y para la Aldea Global salsera y los encuentras en la cuenta youtube de: Jaime Del Castillo Jaramillo Te esperamos a las 8.00pm hora ⌚ Perú 🇵🇪 Y no lo olvides: "Salsa con Causa", siempre marcando la diferencia porque hacemos CULTURA y rechazamos la Subcultura Salsera, somos objetivos erradicando mitos tontos y falsos y con la verdad por delante y porque sabemos de Música en Teoría y Práctica, por lo tanto, tenemos autoridad para criticar de Arte Musical (hemos escrito sobre Estética, Historia de la Música Occidental, Historia de la Música Cubana 🇨🇺, Historia del Jazz 🎺 etc.). https://www.instagram.com/p/COnW-2ks2kl/?igshid=zdilcbypzv98

[addictionstories]

13

Naomi had been frustrated with her public defender and felt she needed a “real lawyer” to deal with her mounting charges. A friend she did psychedelics with recommended an attorney who had gotten him out of a legal jam, who he claimed to have paid “in weed,” at least partially. 

Simon the lawyer met us at Salina Town Court before Naomi’s first appearance. He was elegantly dressed, with a tweed jacket and vest and he spoke with a British accent. A $700 retainer got us started. 300 of it was due that evening. I agreed to pay for the lawyer and would take the 700 out when we got her bail money back, which was in my name. I handed Simon the cash and we walked in.

The courthouse, if you could even call it that, was in an old school.  We went through a metal detector and walked into a big room that had been a gymnasium. We took seats. Simon walked to an area on the side where the other lawyers were. 

When it was your turn you walked up to a podium with a microphone. The judge sat above you, looking down. The whole conversation came through a PA system with speakers on the walls. 

I watched as people were called up, many looking beaten down by life. It was a steady stream of petty charges and traffic violations.  Like a benevolent father, the judge seemed proud of some, flashing them a warm and approving smile as they explained how they fulfilling their legal obligations. 

“My client is currently employed, supporting his family,” an attorney said.

“Don’t worry, It’s not my intention to put your client in jail,” the judge said.

When Naomi’s case was called, Simon went up and uttered a few words and got the whole thing deferred for two weeks. 

That was easy enough. But pointless I thought. So much of the legal system was kicking the can down the road, I was learning. But so what? I was ready to get out of there. 

A few nights later I was driving to a recording session in Rochester when I got a phone call from a trumpet player I’d worked with a few times in the past, who heads the jazz department at a prestigious college. He asked me about doing a winter concert with the faculty. The current piano teacher was going to be leaving the following semester to take a gig up north, he explained. And he inquired about my interest in the position, explaining it was basically mine if I wanted it. It was just the thing I needed at that moment as my so called career was languishing. I hadn’t been afraid or had a new musical challenge in a long time so I welcomed the opportunity.

Later that week I got the music in the mail. The majority of the work I’d been doing involved playing standards, the same couple dozen tunes we’ve been playing since we were kids. You can do those gigs in your sleep. It’s easy to get lazy. This was mostly original music, composed by the faculty. Nothing I couldn’t handle with preparation, but it was challenging.  

There was an Afro Cuban piece with a section where the piano plays alone, a montuno they call it. I spent hours practicing that as well as the other tunes.

The concert was a success. So many of my gigs were in bars in undignified situations. Being in a regal concert hall at an ivy league institution with a suit and tie felt great. I shook a few hands and talked to some people after the show. But I was chomping at the bit to get out of there and back to Naomi. I made a beeline back to Syracuse, stopping at the pharmacy and McDonald’s before pulling up to the Econo Lodge. 

When Ashley opened the door I walked in and sat down on the bed, putting the bag of food next to me. I reached in and took out two cheeseburgers for me. Two doubles for Naomi, no pickle, no onion. And two for Ashley with Big Mac sauce. I grabbed the bag of needles from my pocket and shook it to get Naomi’s attention, flashing her a big smile. She smiled back, pleased as I got up and handed her the syringes.

When you’re doing hardcore IV drugs, you’re on a different timeline, I was learning. So much of our hanging out involved sitting around, literally for hours on end, either waiting for drugs, or waiting for Naomi to be able to inject herself with the drugs.  Nothing ever happened fast. The hands of time moved through molasses when we were together. You learned to get used to it. 

We watched tv for a while and chatted. Then Ashley got up and started muttering quietly to herself. She began to walk around the room, floating like a drug addled phantasm, with zombie eyes and a far away stare. 

“What the hell,” Naomi yelled.  “Did you do it all? 

She didn’t answer. 

“Jesus Christ!” Naomi screamed.

I felt like I was in a scene from Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas as Naomi screamed wildly.

“I paid for that.  I’ve been paying for everything for the last two days.”

“I know. I know. I am going to make it up to you. I got you when I see Jones again,” Ashley muttered, her words running together in a long slur.

They argued for a few more minutes before things calmed down.

Naomi and Ashley were back at Rich’s house a few days later. As far as I knew Rich wasn’t a drug dealer and I couldn’t quite figure out his connection to them. Whatever it was I didn’t want to think about it. I thought about what Ashley had said. How Rich “just likes helping people.” Helping people, I thought. Was he running a Ronald McDonald house for the opiate crowd?  Something tells me it wasn’t pure benevolence behind his actions. 

Naomi would go on benders that would last days where she was there. Communication with get spotty. I’d get a text message from her saying she wanted me to pick her up in an hour and and then I wouldn’t hear back from her until the next day. Sometimes I’d get fragmented texts that wouldn’t make sense at all.

I picked her up at Rich’s and drove her to her parent’s house to pick up some clothes. I enjoyed taking her home and always hoped she’s just stay there when we visited. Her parents were always gracious to me. I worried they might have thought our relationship was unusual considering that I was significantly older. But they knew I didn’t do drugs and that I had Naomi’s best interest at heart and they trusted me. 

We walked in and talked with her parents in the kitchen for a few minutes. Then Naomi and I went up to her room. Her room was small, with stacks of clothes neatly folded on the bed and on top of her dresser. She began to sort thought them. I took at seat on the bed and looked through a small stack of books, picking up one about addiction and trauma. I made conversation but Naomi seemed laser focused on what she was doing. After about twenty minutes I went back downstairs for a glass of water. 

Naomi’s father was in the kitchen. 

“The depression. The sleeping all the time. I think it’s because she has Lyme disease,” he father said.

I looked at him, curious, interested.

“I got it when I was bitten by a tick. I think she has it too.” 

He explained his decade-long battle with the disease, which included seeing multiple doctors and spending thousands of dollars on treatments in Pennsylvania. He told me about herbs he was taking and some that he had recommended for Naomi like Charlotte’s Web.

My aunt had gotten Lyme disease in the eighties. But apart from that I really didn’t know too much about it. I knew it could wreak havoc on you mentally and physically if left untreated. 

When I went back upstairs I found Naomi standing by her closet looking terrified and gasping for breath. 

“On my God. Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m having a panic attack!”

“Why? What happened? What did you take?

She didn’t answer.

Her father came up a minute later, taking one look at her and becoming alarmed. He asked her what she took.

“Nothing dad. Nothing.”

He looked at me and asked. I shook my head and said I didn’t know. 

Naomi started to walk out of the room and motioned to me that she wanted to leave. 

“Keep her here,” her father quietly mouthed to me under his breath.

We sat back down on the bed and talked. Ten minutes later I heard sirens. Then the doorbell rang. She quickly gathered the clothes she had picked out and headed for the kitchen. I followed her. When we got to the stairs a fireman, two EMTs and a village cop were walking up. We met halfway down. I just stood there, semi frozen, not sure about what to say or do. Naomi’s father was standing at the bottom of the stairs by the front door. Naomi explained how she was having a panic attack. The EMT took her pulse, recommending that they take her to the hospital but she refused. They asked several times and each time she declined. 

The cop knew about Naomi’s drug history and wanted to hold her but he couldn’t. He asked repeatedly if she had any thoughts about hurting herself or anyone else. She answered no each time. After about ten minutes the EMTs started to pack up and leave. But the cop lingered. He seemed angry, frustrated. At this point Naomi had started to come out of it. Eventually the cop gave up. He walked to the front door, talked quietly with her father for a moment and then left. I sat down on the couch with Naomi. Her father walked over. We chatted for a bit. Then Naomi hugged her father, said goodbye and we headed out.

Naomi’s birthday was February 15th. I bought a card at the grocery store along with a four pack of Stewart’s Cream soda and two small heart shaped balloons on sticks, a combination birthday-Valentine’s Day gift. I picked Naomi up at Grant Village. The plan was to go to her mom’s house for dinner. Naomi was relaxed, lucid, upbeat and I was looking forward to the evening. It was a clear cold winter night. A perfect evening for driving.

We arrived and sat down in the kitchen. Her mom poured me a glass of red wine and one for herself. She was serving a baked chicken dish with potato leek soup.  

“I made you your favorite dinner last year on your birthday too, Naomi,” her mom said. 

“Oh yeah. I remember,” Naomi said, distracted as she looked through her mail on the counter.

Her mom and I chatted some more and then Naomi excused herself, saying that she had to run upstairs for a minute. 

A few minutes later her mom put the salads out and called up to Naomi. Naomi said she’s be down in a minute. I ran up to check on her. She was sitting on the bed with a syringe in her hand pressed up against her arm. Good Lord, I thought. 

“Hey. What are you doing? We’re about to eat,” I said.

“I know.  I just have to finish this first.”

I waited for a minute then walked back downstairs.

“Is she coming down?” her mom asked.

“Yeah, I think so. She’s just sorting through some old clothes.”

Her mom called up to her again. “Naomi! Dinner!”

Her mom started on her salad. I started on mine. After we finished the salad she brought out the soup. 

The mean was excellent. “I’d love to get the recipe for the soup for my mother,” I explained.

We each had another glass of wine as we ate. Naomi missed the whole meal.  I went back upstairs after we finished and found her sitting in the same spot on her bed, still trying to inject herself.

Good god, I thought. I laid down on the other side of the bed and fell asleep. When I woke up early the next morning Naomi was sitting on the floor still digging in her arm with the needle. Exhausted and bleary-eyed, I gave her a hug and headed home where I went back to bed until noon.