Dancing About Architecture, Vol. XIV

Tonight’s Episode: Punkt Azoy at Tifereth Israel Synagogue, Del Cerro, California

February 2, 2008

It’s a perfectly dreary Sunday morning and I’m writing a post to pass the time until our open house starts this afternoon, probably with no people. I can’t begin to count how many appointments have been canceled on me here because the other party is afraid to venture out into a light rain. We watched a great old movie last night, “Sorry, Wrong Number”, with Barbara Stanwyck and Burt Lancaster, during which I enjoyed my extra-large gimlet a bit too much, and I’m paying for it a little now. The secret, if you must know, is simple syrup and a fresh lime. Sweet and sour, just like I like my femme fatales.

Going a bit out of order here. A rundown of this little gig I played at the beginning of the month, certain to be my penultimate performance in San Diego before the big move East, ought to be shared with the world, I guess. Probably more people will read this than actually heard us play. This thing got set up following a cold call from someone at my synagogue who was in charge of running a gala event honoring the 20^th anniversary of our rabbi’s tenure there. The gala was shaping up to be a big deal, with a stand-up comedian, jazz band, catered dinner (kosher, = expensive), and lots of special guest speakers. The guy certainly deserved it, as he is universally loved for being the real heart, mind and soul of the place. The organizer wanted to have klezmer music played during the cocktail hour, and had heard Risa and I play once a few years ago for a little free concert we did as part of a Tuesday night Jewish culture series. I was really honored that he remembered and thought well enough of us to ask us to participate in the event.

I met Risa about eight years ago by pure serendipity. I was new to San Diego and floundering about looking for other musicians with whom to play klezmer music. It may surprise you, but this can be rather a difficult task. Like anything else, to do something well requires study, dedication and a lot of practice. Now I can’t say I’m a great klezmer clarinetist, but I’ve worked hard at it and I am good enough to know how much I don’t know. This state of being is deceptively hard to achieve, as is evident by the music of Against Me! and other derivative bands of their ilk. Anyhoops, adverts in the local papers for klezmer musicians had turned up only a few people, mostly Irish fiddlers and such who, however well-versed they may have been in this or that style, were novices at klezmer music and though I respected their interested that wasn’t what I was looking for. Somehow I found out about this concert of Hungarian Gypsy music which was to feature cimbalom virtuoso Kalman Balogh, who had recently gone on a duo tour with my former klezmer clarinet teacher. When I called for tickets, the woman on the other end was very chatty and, after extracting from me my interest in klezmer music, promised to introduce me to her friend Risa who played the accordion and who was also going to the concert. I attended with my musician pal Bill, the concert was amazing, and Risa and I were thereby introduced. We started jamming together and eventually decided to call ourselves a band, onto which I imposed the name Punkt Azoy (Yiddish for “just so” – hey, I like the sound of it).

Over these years we’ve played a handful of gigs at libraries, weddings, schools, festivals, etc. Neither of us has put much effort into advertising, and as for me I am happy most of the time to just get together to play music, especially since I rarely take the time otherwise to practice. Risa is particularly good at looking at a piece of music with just the melody, and picking out the chords on the accordion while sight reading. I’m a little less good at that. I’m better at learning tunes from recordings, which is really the best way to learn these songs, whereas Risa struggles more with this. So I transcribed a lot of tunes from recordings. We complement each other somewhat and we’ve built up a pretty solid and extensive repertoire. She is sometimes inclined to bring in other East European folk tunes, and at other times we play baroque duets (me on clarinet, she on flute – she’s pretty good). So we are essentially like an Old Country kapelye (klezmer band), who would also play regional tunes, popular tunes and classical music in addition to the Jewish repertoire. I’ve always wished we had a fidl (violin), but it’s never really worked out. Still, we hold our own pretty well.

We started preparing specifically for this gig back in November, picking tunes and hashing them out. As it was going to be a full hour of solid music and as my lip has the stamina of a fat giraffe with broken knee caps, we put an accordion duet and an accordion/dumbek piece in the middle of the set list, which totaled about 15 tunes. So we showed up at the appointed time and were directed to the outdoor patio, where the cocktail hour was to be held. I had not known we were going to be playing outdoors, and this caused us some consternation. For one, it was a cold night. Nothing like the frigid football games of my high school and college marching band days when your lips froze to the mouthpiece, but cold enough to slow down my circulation so my fingers felt like gummy worms. Moreover, it’s a lot harder to project without amplification when there are no walls, particularly for the accordion. But we hijacked one of those outdoor space heaters and set up camp under the tent roof, me with my two clarinets (C and B flat) and accordion, Risa with her accordion and dumbek, and all our music stands and crap. As it turned out we were also next to a meat carving table, so we were assaulted with the delicious aroma of roasted mammal that we didn’t have time to eat, besides which I don’t like to get little bits of roasted mammal lodged in my clarinets. In case you were wondering, “What kinds of food, indeed roasted food, doesn’t he like to get lodged in his clarinets?”

At this point I realize that the meat of this review, so to speak, is going to be sliced wafer thin. There’s really not too much to say about our performance, not that this has ever stopped me before. We played our hearts out and we were good. It got really packed so that the only people who probably could hear us were those within about 15 feet or so, including the mammal carvers. The previous evening I had played for our monthly Simcha Shabbat service (explained in an earlier DAA) and this guy had come up afterwards to introduce himself as a fellow clarinet player. He was present at this gig and kept trying to talk to me between tunes about clarinet stuff, like the nature of my hand-made C clarinet, which I must say is damn cool. Yes, clarinets are VERY cool! Anyway, he seemed to dig us, even though I had to keep blowing him off. The crowd in our immediate vicinity kept shifting, and we managed to garner enthusiastic applause from most of them, some more than others. Susy and Ira, who are big supporters of both Jackie and I for some reason (they LOVE hearing about and attending Jackie’s plays), were the most vocal with their appreciation. I love them. In particular, we play this kolemeyke (a Ukrainian/Jewish dance named after the region of its origin) that is a pretty good crowd pleaser. It’s fast and involves a rhapsodic series of 8-bar call-and-response melodies that keep changing key and mode, which makes it continually interesting. We added this arrangement at the end where we stop – break – and then resume with a super-slow-mo repeat of the final theme, which gradually quickens up to Ludicrous Speed and ends with a bang, if I do say so meeself. At this moment Susy and Co. yelled out “Yeah!” It felt good.

When the hour was up we grabbed all our shkoyre (merchandise/stuff/pile of crap – Yiddish is so deliciously flexible) and ran inside and onto the stage facing 40 or so round tables; the place was set up something like an American wedding reception. Noah and Perry, our two lay congregants with good voices and a lot of know-how who lead the singing in most of our services since our Cantor quit a few years ago, led everyone in singing Havdalah, the wrap-up on Saturday night that marks the end of Shabbat and transition back to the drab old week. We played along with the tunes, which somehow made the unchecked sound system scream in feedback agony, forcing us to keep backing away from the microphones until we nearly hit the jazz band’s instruments behind us. But the tunes are pretty and everyone was singing while the only light in the room was given by the triple-braided candle customary for this tradition. It was, for me, a pleasant dénouement to an enjoyable gig. I ended up staying for the balance of the event, during which the comedian occasionally made me chuckle (I have a problem with vicarious embarrassment in the presence of stand-up comedians, funny or no), dinner was decent and the Rabbi was appropriately and thoroughly honored. I spent much of that time thinking about the things I’ll miss about this place, and the opportunities for new musical experiences that await in the next digs. It’s already shaping up to be more interesting than here: during our house-hunting trip next weekend, I’m going to see longtime hero John Zorn and a dozen other great NY musicians play genre-mortar-and-pestling avant-garde tornado music! Till then,

Zay gezunt!