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St. Petersburg, Russia

We’re up at 4:30 in the morning (wow) to make a 6:45 train departure for St. Petersburg. I’ve been anticipating this since this train ride got announced in our schedule. A three hour train ride through the icy, snowy Russian countryside, in comfortable cars, and a simple train-appropriate breakfast. And here I am (we are) headed for a concert that I’ve anticipated for more than 20 years.

What I mean is that when Russia became a possibility at all for me, St. Petersburg and Moscow were equal must-dos. Moscow is the political capital, but St. Petersburg, with Catherine The Great’s Hermitage museum, is surely one of the capital cities of the world for Arts. The Louvre in Paris and maybe the Guggenheim in New York might rival it. As we drive into the city, I can’t help thinking how different from Moscow it feels. The architecture is less random and crowded. I feel a finesse that could be inspired by that great museum and the kind of people it attracts as residents and students and visitors.

I’ve been pleading to get booked here forever it seems to me. And I’ll tell you now, the whole affair including the concert with this new audience was so satisfying and wonderful. Somehow my anticipatory sense of how it would be was spot-on-on target. The accuracy heightened by a performing situation that was really normal now today. No cameras, no thirty-foot distance from band to first row of seats. So natural and un-staged. I knew it was going to touch the sky. And we did.

In never getting here until now, I had always sensed a question mark amongst our business partners over here about whether there was an audience for me in this city. All those questions were put to rest. The audience sat staring and open-mouthed as the band played like an enchanted Oz, sparkling solos from Turano who gave this audience something they’ve never heard, unless it was Shorter a few weeks ago or ‘Trane a few decades ago. Calderon gave them Klugh and Segovia, mixed with Di Meola—I added my voice. When Larry Williams stops playing keyboards and picks up the flute, you have to shake your head and start talking to yourself. We have never played such a seamless transition into Mark Simmons’ drum solo, that went even beyond this new level of playing that Mark has recently reached. Front rows were full of under-30s. Men, women, and teenagers—Great.

When we finally left the stage after a couple of encores, we just stood there in the wings and laughed and giggled. Nothing to say. Promoter Maxim was quietly thrilled. Oh, yes, there’s an audience here for Al.

The next morning was early up again for a trip to the airport. As we entered the hotel lobby, there was a man I recognized from 2nd or 3rd row center, my 10 o’clock, and there he was in the hotel this morning with a painting that he’s done of me. It’s so surprising and touching that I couldn’t speak… I just sat down and wept. It kept burning in my mind that for some large chunk of time, I was off doing what I do, and here was somebody way over in St. Petersburg, Russia, pouring their heart and soul into a really good painting of me, and I never knew.

Thanks, Max!

Well there it is. That’s the microcosm. A whole bunch of heartfelt stuff going on for Al Jarreau and I never even knew.
Thank you, St. Petersburg. What a wonderful night.

Love, Al

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Moscow

Moscow was a wonderful dreamlike whirling blurring giddy rush on a roller coaster ride… stepping out of your car with your cheeks and hair still blowing back behind you and a grin that hurts. Add to that a pounding heart and an armful of flowers that hides your face, and a prayer that it all worked, and you have Al Jarreau at Crocus City Hall concert venue in Moscow on February 27.

I can’t believe I’ve been to Moscow so many times, more than 9! This time, after a no-sleep all nighter, we did a 20 hour travel day arriving at 1:30 in the afternoon in our hotel. I don’t sleep on planes, so I took a nap and met with Joe Turano to discuss the new music and a setlist of songs for the next day. The concert will be videotaped before a live audience, and I’ll duet with Larisa Dolina, a really wonderfully accomplished jazz-pop-R&B singer from Moscow with a huge audience that loves her music and accomplishments. I do too. George Duke, Stanley Clark, and I have all shared the stage with her. Now let’s sleep fast!

The next day, we had a one hour-rehearsal at 3:30 in the afternoon, and bam, it’s 6 o’clock and we’re on. We glided along real nicely in our new program of ‘Let’s start at the beginning… Rainbow music.’ But things really take off when I go to the side of the stage and surprisingly bring out Larisa, and we pop and spark with Wonder Where You Are, a funky little R&B George Duke groove that I sang with her on her last CD, and then medley/meld into Goodhands Tonight, a gospel-ish sweet ballad with space for some real shouting bluesy improvisation which we both did at the end of the song. We were over at the right hand edge of the stage with me escorting her out just as I had escorted her onto stage. They went crazy.

Zoom! Everything changed and took flight again in another direction when a five year old little girl came to the front right of the stage with flowers. I almost ran to her… Suddenly it all became a precious new reality for everybody. This is not a movie on TV—“Oh my, look at that little girl! She just gave flowers to Al Jarreau! He’s hugging her, and kissing her mother’s hand.” Pow! It all exploded. They came with roses as big as my fist. I was swimming in long-stem flowers. I did an immediate autograph for her right there. “I need a sharpie!!!” Turano brings me one. John Calderon and I do a deliberate mug shot for a guy who is stage left… holding position til the flash goes off. The house lights have been up for a while now and everybody can see everything. Including each other. All a blur now for me. Even Take Five, She’s Leaving Home, and Mornin’. I blinked twice more, and Larisa and I do this new arrangement of Summertime as an encore. It’s slow and moody at first, then snaps into groovin’ tempo. And when she stays and we’re immediately into Roof Garden, everybody joins in as we sing “PARTY PARTY PARTY!” Like they were part of the band.

Backstage, we’re overwhelmed with guest list people and their guests, who have a friend. It’s great. Alex Ivanoff, one of our local promoters, with that boyish grin, is all aglow like a Christmas Tree. And there’s Irene with Oos and Ahs and hugs and presents for me and Susan. We’re all hoping that we got enough good footage from the videotaping to make a nice television show. That could really help my whole career here. I’m sure we did just fine.

Thank you, Moscow, see you soon!
Love, Al

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St. Louis

Great to be back in one of the great cities of the world, home to a long history of industry, manufacturing, trade and commerce, and home to all kinds of music, especially jazz. Thankfully, there’s been an audience for my music since my beginnings. My visits these days are not as frequent as before, but we’re workin’ on it, and these last two visits to Touhill are the beginnings of that.

We arrived the night before, woke up and hit the gym at 9am for a quick burn, a couple of hobo-sock coffee, and off we go to morning radio and TV. We visited Steve at KWMU on the campus of UMSL, and then with Jennifer on Channel 5. Thanks, you guys, good coffee and a good chat.

We’d been riding this morning with Phil, who teaches Jazz History at the University. Sitting next to him was John, an ex-DJ who now must be the city’s historian and tour guide. “Oh, that’s Busch Stadium, home of the Cards, and there’s the old cathedral, and the old courthouse.”

We played Touhill Performing Arts Center on the campus of University of Missouri-St. Louis… A return visit. We arrived at soundcheck and met a guy on staff backstage who looked just like a young Joe Louis, Curtis Brown. We laughed. He’s shy and embarrassed, but I discovered he was teammates with OJ Simpson on the Buffalo Bills. Wow! Not many people play NFL football.

We hit at 8:15, and the guys are a magnificent cohesiveness to be admired by the Packers and Mazerati, too. The audience was open-mouthed. I’d love to sit out front and listen. They could do it without me, you know. We closed the first half at 65 minutes with Boogie Down and “I gotta go to the bathroom, y’all.”

But there’s more fun in the second half, and by now, people are even more loose and comfy, and calling out songs, so I sang a little impromptu Alonzo, and a full on Favorite Things. The new “Rainbow Ride” program has a newish cool intensity with brief glimpses of the white-hot core through the blast furnace door. And somehow the improv vocal ad-libs of Chris and Joe and John punctuate and inflame the passing line like an Amen or Yeah, that’s right! This ain’t new but it’s better.

I chat about this venue and being so close to them that I can smell their perfume. No doubt this is a new and first-time experience for almost all of them. Usually it’s been much larger venues. An important part of surviving and staying alive as an artist is competing with the biggest and loudest performers and shows in the business, and finding yourself pulled into that approach, even against your instincts and basic feelings. And so, there are lots of people who don’t know the most important me: The close-up, intimate “Al Jarreau: Boy Singer.” That was on a placard announcing one of my first performances as a 5 year old!

Well here I am in the raw, a simple and lucky little boy singer from Milwaukee. Thank you, thank you so much, St. Louis. I’ll see ya in church.

Love,
Al Jarreau

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