Waning Chops

Today, I am going to broach a delicate subject that cuts across all artistic disciplines: "waning chops." In more conventional speak: the deterioration of one's artistic skills to the point where his/her body of work is no longer being enhanced.
For this essay, I am only going to focus on music and musicians, but I believe the concepts migrate to other "arts" such as writing and "fine arts."

The best way to introduce this subject is to recount two personal experiences:

1. Oscar Peterson: I, and universally every friend and jazz fan I know, had nothing but praise to shed on this special soul. Let's face it, with the huge hands, and a huge, innovative jazz mind to go along with them, he was "Oscar" -- nuff said.

I saw him in person over the years, and always came away feeling blessed, having heard live what I heard on his records, only better, because it was live, and it was Oscar, still adding to his legacy.

But, the last time I heard him, at the famed Yoshi's right down the road in Oakland, I knew it would soon be over. I have perfect pitch (sometimes I hate it) and a legitimate critical ear, and Oscar was not making it that night. I have no doubt that he was still hearing it in his magnificent mind, but his brain-to-fingers connection was no longer fully functional. The runs were ragged, syncopation was slightly off, and even ballads lacked the subtle fire that Oscar had always delivered before. However, the gratifying aspect was that the savvy segment of the Yoshi's audience also knew it, and I could feel that the applause took on a different tenor than in times before -- respect rather than fervor.

A few months later, Oscar was dead.

2. Elvin Jones: Again Yoshi's. I heard him about 18 months before he contracted cancer and began dying. It was truly one of the great moments of jazz I had heard. He was into his late years, but still just drumming as he always had -- you couldn't take your eyes off him, or suppress a jazz-giggle over some of the riffs he was still inventing (even then) in his "old age." I was amazed and inspired.

Later, about a month before he died, I went to see him again at Yoshi's: That was the most painful experience I have EVER had at music gig of any sort. Before the set started, Elvin's wife came on stage and told the audience that he was dying and had only about a month or so of life left, but that he still wanted to play. This one really got me, because literally less than two years before, this "old man" had been kicking ass. As in the case of Oscar (above) I know that Elvin still heard it all in his head, but his body just failed him. It was wrenching, yet touching, to see. And the respect paid to him by the guys who were playing behind him was also poignant -- they knew his drumming was pretty horrible, but they played their asses off to cover him in every way possible. I just cried.

So, this raises the question for all of us when judging our chosen art appreciation: Is our hero just going down a different path (often pissing us off by doing so), or is he beginning to "lose his chops? On this subject here is a cool aside: You also have to take into consideration the "tools of the artistic trade." A vocalist (Tony Bennett ripping up Monterey Jazz Festival at age 80+) can keep his chops much longer than a trombonist -- just moving that slide the distances required will challenge a 20 year old, let alone a 70+ player.

There are individuals in this debate that constantly surprise and befuddle me. Number one has to be Dylan. Every time I think he has lost his chops, he turns around and takes a hunk of flesh out of me. Miles was that way too.

But in the end, there will come a time for all great artists when they lose their chops. Having witnessed this occurrence more and more as I age myself, I have imposed a promise upon myself NOT to praise a performance when the chops have faded. For instance, after that last Oscar performance I mention above, some younger people I was with who had never heard Oscar before were raving (a lot because they felt they were expected to [and I can't blame them, having been there in my 20's trying to impress an older person whom I admired]) and I realized at that moment that I had to be honest, yet not patronizing or dismissive. So, I simply said that I thought Oscar's genius had been on display, but that he no longer could translate it to his axe as he had been able to do in past times. And I referred them to one of my favorite Oscar solos from the great album he did with Milt Jackson in the 60's: Standing Tall, in particular "On Green Dolphin Street." [Here it is for those who have never heard it. I think this is one of THE greatest Oscar solos ever, and he did it with one hand tied behind his back, so to speak.]

Since then, I have always tried to be honest. If an aging "great" puts out something that shows a loss in chops, I will say so, because to do otherwise would be to degrade past achievements.

Thanks for putting up with my ramblings ...

T.

p.s. (after initial post).. Having just tested out my post, and listened to the "On Green Dolphin Street" link I have to give major props to Milt on vibes, and credit the smokin' rhythm section of Ray Brown on bass and Ed Thigpen on drums.