Recently I took a young relative to her first live jazz performance. We were celebrating her 21st birthday and agreed that a dinner at a jazz club would be a very sophisticated and ‘adult’ thing to do. All the elements were in place for a fine evening of music. The club was upscale but convivial. The featured performer was a highly regarded bebop sax player, a player who was neither over the hill nor over the edge. Our waiter did not unctuously inform us of his first name and didn’t pledge his total devotion to us for the evening. Our meal was still reasonably warm when it arrived and the rather aged couple at the next table never once discussed medical procedures. All in all the evening popped along nicely, and when it was over I asked my young charge her opinion of the proceedings.
“I didn’t get some of it,” she said.