[Contest] Tell us your musical memory, win tickets to Dave Douglas at Jazz Standard

Posted by: admin on March 26, 2013 @ 6:48 am
Filed under: Contest, Dave Douglas (News), Events

When we started working on the plan for the new album Time Travel, Dave and I were talking about David Toomey’s book “The New Time Travelers”—which was the impetus for the title. Specifically how the concept of time travel had been around a long time, how it’s evident in the way we think and the way we create, and ultimately rearranges our understanding of cause and effect.

One of my favorite things about music is how vividly it allows us to remember a moment in time that might have otherwise been forgotten. As with other senses, your thoughts can fly backwards to the slightest of details all from hearing a note or a voice or just a sound; or maybe you see your future self in the shape of things to come. In this way, Time Travel is a reality among all of us who have our ears open.

A ticket for your thoughts.

We’d like to hear about your first or most powerful musical memory. Maybe it was a eureka moment, or the song you first fell in love with. Maybe it was a moment when you realized how important music was for you. Whatever it might be, take us back in time, or tell us how you beamed yourself to the future.

In exchange, we’ll put your name in to win a free pair of tickets to the Jazz Standard where Dave and his Quintet celebrate the release of Time Travel, as well as Dave’s 50th birthday. We’ll also pick a second person to receive a free download of the new album—for those of you not in the East Coast area.

Enter to win tickets by posting your musical memory in one of these spots:

+ Comment on this blog post
+ Comment on the Facebook post at facebook.com/greenleafmusic
+ Use hashtag #ddtimetravel on Twitter
+ Use hashtag #ddtimetravel with a picture on Instagram

The winner will be selected at random on Friday at 5 PM and their name will be on the guest list +1 for a set on Saturday or Sunday (tickets only; food and beverage are not included).

I’ll get the ball rolling…


  1. My parents moved me and my brothers and soon-to-be sister to Cincinnati when I was young and we had a little brown-carpeted den off the kitchen where my dad kept his LPs. I was five, and there was a small creek near my house where I'd run around and catch crawfish. I kept my plastic toy guitar that my parents had just bought me for my birthday—an upgrade from the plastic sword I'd been using—in the den near the turntable. And for the first time, I dropped the needle on an album without any help. It was Gerry Rafferty's "City to City", a song called Baker Street. And I jumped around with guitar in hand doing my best guitar hero impression, even trying to nail the Raphael Ravenscroft sax line. When the song was done, all I could do was wish for a real guitar and drop the needle again.

    My band was in Cinci for a show last year and had a couple hours to kill, so I took a drive up to that old house. The brown carpet was gone, and the creek had been filled in with suburban sprawl, but that den was still filled with that music—for me anyway, the only person for which it could I guess.

    I still max out the volume when that track comes on the radio. And I still have that LP from my dad's collection.

    Comment by Jim Tuerk — March 26, 2013 @ 2:44 pm

  2. When I was 12, my band director took me to a local music store to help me purchase my first trumpet and transition away from the cheap cornet I had started on. The date was the first saturday of October, which was a busy time for him as a teacher because it was marching band season, plus one concert band and jazz band competition coming up for his high school groups, but he still made time on a Saturday morning to pick me up and buy a trumpet.

    It was one of my favorite memories to spend the day trying different trumpets and talking about differences in sound and playing; I learned so much in that one day. Also, there had been rough patches in my house's domestic life, so it was great to get away and spend time with someone I truly admired.

    The trumpet I ended up purchasing is still the one I play to this day and every day I play it I think back to that Saturday in October.

    Comment by Jacob England — March 26, 2013 @ 6:00 pm

  3. Jeff Beck’s my favorite music artist of all time (noting against you Dave!), so when I got the chance to meet him I had to take it.

    Back then I was living in Denver, working as a bellman at a four-star hotel (or four-diamond hotel–I never could get that straight), and we used to get all the big bands. In fact, I might start a blog about those old days cause I met everybody–Carlos Santana; David Crosby; Chuck D; ZZ Top; NSYNC; Wilson Pickett; Robert Palmer; Ricky Martin; Sheryl Crow; Brian Setzer; Lyle Lovett; Lou Rawls; that guy from Motorhead who sang "Ace of Spades;" the wrestler Goldberg. I could drop fifty more names; but I was just their bellman so that’d be pretty pathetic.

    And the only one that really matters to me is Jeff Beck.

    I met him the morning after he performed at The Fillmore. It was the last show of his tour and I feared he may have already left town by the start of my shift. But no sooner had I changed into my uniform when Beck came downstairs and entered the lobby.

    He was wearing sunglasses. Those aviator kind of Ray-Bans with dark black lenses that matched his over-dyed, thick mullet. I was really taken aback since I’d expected to be called up to his room. To be prepared to meet him, when in fact he just appeared with one of my co-workers in tow. Wearing sunglasses in the lobby at 7:00 in the morning.

    But no way I was letting my co-worker handle Beck; so like Homer Simpson or one of those Three Stooges I slyly sidled behind the cart while Beck and his manager were lost in discussion and forcefully hip-checked my co-worker out the way to assume his place. Keeping that same pace, seamlessly equidistant from Beck and his manager like nothing had changed. And I could hear Beck saying to his manager:

    “I mean bloody hell, mate. I’m paying close to $2,000.00 in air fare out of here. I have to believe that's outrageous.”.

    That is outrageous. I thought to myself, nodding my head in agreement.

    I don’t know if it was the nodding of my head or if the manager just turned toward the cart to retrieve his organizer; but suddenly he got a look at me and did a double-take. He didn't seem mad or anything. Just confused.

    “You’re not my bellman are you?”.

    I never even looked at the guy. To this day I couldn’t tell you a damn thing about his features except that he was a white guy older than me. What I remember plain as day is immediately turning to Beck and saying.

    “I saw your show last night and you were awesome. We're not allowed to talk to the famous guests, but I don't care. That was the best show I ever saw and I’m just so glad to tell you in person. You’re the greatest, man. I’ve listened to you forever and you’ve never sounded better.”.

    Beck looked in my direction. His rigid, morning countenance never changed and he never said a word. Instead he slid those aviator sunglasses down his nose like a college professor might peer over his bi-focals, locked eyes with mine for maybe a second, then pushed the glasses back up to their original position to resume his discussion with the manager.

    "I mean $2,000.00 mate."

    And that was it, the day I met Jeff Beck. That night when I told my girlfriend the story she insisted that I got dissed, and most others seem to agree. But as far as I'm concerned, that moment of acknowledgment was praise from Caesar. G.O.A.T.

    Comment by Lodo Grdzak — March 26, 2013 @ 6:38 pm

  4. Loving these posts because the memory of sound and feeling is so complex. My Dad played me those early jazz curated cassette tapes in the car. He also rehearsed his baroque recorder quartet at the house. And I remember being really little and hearing the music, wandering in thinking it was on tape and being so incredibly shocked that there four people sitting there bringing forth this immense sound!

    Comment by Dave Douglas — March 26, 2013 @ 6:51 pm

  5. time out… non? oh… well…

    Comment by Ley Docard — March 28, 2013 @ 9:26 am

  6. I actually have a powerful Dave Douglas memory: A Tiny Bell Trio show in a small art gallery in Philadelphia, the band was un-miked and un-mixed. With no sound system getting in the way, I got to hear the music direct from the musicians and their instruments, the dynamics coming purely from them rather than the way the sound guy or the club wanted them to be. Very pure, very powerful.

    Comment by Brian Glaser — March 27, 2013 @ 1:26 pm

  7. In all honesty, a fairly recent musical "moment" involved Dave himself. Several years ago, I saw him at a wonderful show at the Village Vanguard. Folks were milling around afterward, and as I went to leave, I bumped into Dave himself. I said, "Thank you, Mr. Douglas (I always thank performers; they've given the audience a gift)." Dave replied, "No – thank *you*." It was just one of those golden moments when a guy who's a biologist and a guy who plays the trumpet crossed paths for an instant and exchanged some honest, simple words.

    Comment by Chip Codella — March 27, 2013 @ 7:11 pm

Leave a comment