I am operating on four hours sleep, but I’m feeling such love that I wanted to capture it before I drift off.  And I want to do it publicly, because the feeling is so externally driven.  Good word, actually, driven, because it was as I was driving home that I was almost in tears.  I’d just left this beautiful, spirit centered gathering celebrating the love of one friend and her love, whom she’ll join on his walk from Los Angeles to Brazil (http://iamwalking.org/).  And it was just around the corner from the spiritual center of my boozy early 20s, Al’s Bar.  I’d try to tame that place with just my acoustic guitar, or play nasty blues in this band called “Victor’s Sister” that once got to pay with Big Jay McNeely.

I’d just received a glowing e-mail review of my new album from one of my favorite supporters, as I left Traction Ave to head by Olvera Street as I got on the 101 heading back home.  I was thinking how great LA would be if we had some infrastructure investment somewhere before that horrible Melrose exit off the freeway.  (Why is the gas at the “Petrol” station always so cheap?)  I passed the old Anti-Club, Paramount Studios….  And that’s when I started to well up.  I guess it’s just the diversity of experience from my organic spiritual type scene, to my DIY punk-ish life, to the silly Hollywood stuff I’ve done.   Maybe it’s because I’ve been able to make music in all these places and I’ve just put my new album up for sale on my site?

But then it got even better, reaching the heart of Melrose where I worked at the Gap and the fancy Gelati per Tutti across the street.  I used to play my demos and watch how the hipsters would react as they came in, bopping their heads to the guy scooping their cappuccino cones.  As much as I loved living in the Los Feliz/Silverlake area, I kind of think I love WeHo even more.  It’s definitely not as groovy, but I’m so beat today because I went up to a friend’s last night, ten minutes away up Laurel Canyon to share new music, finished and unfinished, over wine and pasta, then I got woken up early this morning to meet a friend of 20 years a block away from my house at Urth for breakfast.  And this is the neighborhood where during college I lived down the hall from the bass player from Cheap Trick in a rent controlled apartment.  And the next thing I knew Warren Zevon moved in across the hall.

But, really, it’s all of LA.  So many good people and landmarks that are the healthy roots that allow me to grow.  And I’ve been away for periods of time now, so I appreciate it even more.  And now I’m blessed to be living in the most wonderful home, a home which still carries the creative vibe of the couple who lived here for 70 years just before I moved in.   I’m not sure if I’ve said anything you don’t already know tonight.  But I just wanted to share my love letter to the city.

“One Step” for Jason Luckett’s 6th Album

I’m over the moon with all the support I’ve received for this new record — from those who’ve pledged (http://kck.st/aaezQv) and the team helping me to get it done.  You’ve made me feel very loved and emboldened!  We’ve passed the initial goal by $600, so at this point we’re about $400 short of my being able to do a full pressing and get the physical CD out to more people beyond those who’ve asked for the special edition.  I was talking to my mother this afternoon, and you know how mother’s have that way of asking the simply perfect questions. She asked, “Why didn’t you just ask for all you needed in the first place?”  All I could say was that I wanted to absolutely make sure I could get the music done and wasn’t really sure that I would be able to raise $3000 in an all or nothing proposition.  But you’ve all made me believe and now we’re so close!  If just two people decide to have a private concert in their home for $250, or if one person wants me to write a song and another wants to be on the list to all my shows for a year,  I’ll be able to do the full run and have the commercially available CDs ready in January.  That’d be the best start to a year for me ever! Think about it and know that every pledge helps and entitles you to beyond the value of a regular CD purchase or download.  But those special offers end at 4pm PST on Thursday.  So if you’re thinking about it, please contribute today.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!  It’s been such a boost of energy to feel this support!

Love and Peace,

J

I’ve just heard that Buddy Collette has passed.

Buddy was my friend.  My last words to him were “I love you.”  And his to me were “I love you, too.”

It was just a random meeting at Ralph’s market across the street from where I’m sitting right now, at the Farmers Market.  I was in the produce section, squeezing oranges and this handsome elder gentleman came over to me and said, I bet you’re a musician.  I was in my early 20s, with a little buzz around me, ready to take the rock ‘n’ roll world on, so I was a little used to this sort of thing happening.  But this man had spark in his eyes. We spoke for a few minutes.  I felt very encouraged by him.  It felt sweet to be recognized by an elder.  I imagined myself in his place someday, encouraging another kid.  I wanted to be part of the tradition.  I’d always felt such a gratitude when older black men, who’d had to struggle so much, stopped to give me encouragement — a post civil-rights kid, half white and quite privileged.  It made me feel a little guilty.  Yet it inspired me to be part of the tradition of giving back, of encouraging young people to be the best they could possibly be, and to affirm that you, as an elder, recognize the value in their expression.

After the man moved on, a younger white couple approached me and asked if I knew who he was.

“He said his name was Buddy,” I said.

“That’s Buddy Collette!  He’s a jazz legend!  You’re a very lucky guy.”

A few weeks later I was in the Bob’s Big Boy near my apartment on Wilshire Blvd, and there was Buddy at the counter.  We said hello again and a friendship was born.

We never got to play together, but over the years I’d go to see him play or tell stories of the old days on Central Avenue, stories of him and young Mingus breaking bottles and stuff to give to Simon Rodia for the Watts Towers that were being built, or how he convinced Charles to give up the cello for the bass, and join his band.  They’d jump on the red line and play in the train cars for fun.  I loved hearing how he got the unions together, first through jam sessions and musical exchanges with the white classical musicians of Local 47, then the true amalgamation of the Unions.  It’s amazing how different the world seems now.  It’s hard to imagine my friend, in my city, not being able to join a group with other musicians simply because of his skin color.  But that’s what Buddy and this community of artists had to deal with and, mischievously at times, navigate.

Then later, after his stroke, Buddy started to show up at my events a little more.  It thrilled me when he came to the opening of a film I scored, or when I’d hear him talk up my talents and versatility to other people.  When he came to see me at Kenny Burrell’s birthday performance at Royce Hall, he told me I had what Nat Cole had with my ability to sing.  I should take that to heart more than I have.

One of my favorite conversations with Buddy was at a memorial for a dear friend of ours, Geri Branton.  He told me that he was playing piano with his right hand.  He was so excited by the voicings he was discovering.  He had the passion of student just getting the concepts that would open the entire world to him.

That delight in discovery along with his deep memory was what made Buddy so special.  His stories and music were so good because he was always attentive and curious.  My sister and I took him to dinner one night at Versailles’ Cuban restaurant after seeing a play by Roger Smith about Watts.  Again, he had a pouring out of memories and a delight in going to theater and us hanging out together.  He just brought so much joy to my life!  And he reminded me that there were always new discoveries to be had in our city and in our lives.

I’m also remembering the time sitting with him and Brock Peters at Geri and Leo’s 50^th Anniversary party.  Seeing these two men meet for the first time showed me the humbleness and excitement the greats have.  They were passionate about each other’s talents and the growing each of them was still doing.

That spirit endures beyond the body, the spirit of affirmation, encouragement, aspiration and the desire to connect with other beings.  Buddy connected me to the past, present and a vision of a beautiful future of respect, love and possibilities.