CHAPTER GEE—THEME 7
Sent: April 25th, 2016
Subject: Ursonate performance for Bailey
Bailey has a mass in his throat—we can't afford the biopsy and MRI so we don't know if it’s malignant, but he is on painkillers and steroids which seems to be enabling him to eat again. As for whether he would survive surgery and likely subsequent chemotherapy—at a cost of possibly $10,000—it’s all too depressing to focus on. So—we thought of at least—a medical benefit concert in which he could perform as a member of his ensemble.
June 3rd, 2016
Spanish Harlem
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” yells Jenny, encouraging the audience to cut loose. Eric’s crashing cymbals heighten the energy.
I’m running Bank Street Bookstore in Manhattan now, and have the privilege to be playing Japanese shakuhachi-flute every few months with free-jazz legends Karl Berger and Ingrid Sertso, in the new incarnation of their forty-member Creative Improvisers Orchestra—first convened back in the seventies. Our CIO concerts are held in the Casa de Musica at El Taller Latino Americano, run by Rebecca’s old friend Bernardo Palombo—who has provided his space to us for this Urchestra evening.
Rebecca calls, “Bee bee bee bee bee.” DJ Glove’s twanging guitar supports a blues run from Don Rice’s soprano sax.
John Landino’s not here: he’s had esophageal cancer. It’s in remission, but he can’t travel.
As Eric’s snare rolls, Jenny and the audience are yelling a lower note, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaa.”
Don on soprano and I—on alto sax—exchange sonic bursts, while Rebecca chants, “Zee zee zee zee zee.”
Pronoblem’s not here. His back and leg are bothering him. Cortisone injections only help so much.
Jenny and the group shout an even lower note, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” DJ Glove’s electric sander revs.
Rebecca intones, “Rinnzekete, bee, bee.” Don and I sustain a long-tone chord.
Jenny and company hit a much lower note: “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” Eric’s cymbals shimmer.
Mournfully, Rebecca calls, “Enn ze, enn ze.”
All together, in pain, we cry, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” thinking of Bailey, howling in spirit.
Two weeks ago, we put him to sleep.
