now, after hearing that performance this evening, I can see why. You’ve got quite a voice. Were you trained professionally?”
“You might say that.”
“By whom?”
“Giavenetta Constantini . ”
“The opera diva—how’d you score that?”
“She’s my aunt.”
“Ah, so it’s the gene pool.”
“Yes, some twenty thousand hours of practice had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“There was some new material tonight that I’ve never heard before. It didn’t sound like Gretchen.”
“I wrote the first two songs,” Eddie confessed.
“Um hmm,” he nodded. “Slade informed me that you were quite a musician. Tell me—you a jazz fan?”
“Are you kidding, I worship at the throne of John Coltrane, and channel the spirit of Miles.”
“You like Miles?”
“Love him, especially the stuff he did with Gil Evans.”
“I didn’t think a girl of your age would like that kind of stuff. What do you like from Coltrane?”
“His album ‘Favorite Things,’ with McCoy Tyner—It is perfection.”
“Was it Miles or Coltrane that did Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess?”
“They both did. Miles really got into George Russell’s Lydian Chromatic Concept of Tonal Organization. You know, his Ezz—thetics?”
“His what ?” Todd questioned.
“Sometimes it’s called LCCTO, to simplify,” Eddie explained.
“ LCCTO?”
“Yeah, when Miles learned Russell’s art of tonal gravity he demonstrated that in his album, ’Kind of Blue.’”
“ Oh , and where else can I find this, um, whatever you call it?”
“Like classical?”
“Very much,” he answered.
“Then give a listen to Beethoven’s String Quartet, number fifteen, in A Minor, the third movement. There’s more in there.”
Todd left the venue and got into his Porsche 911 GT2. He opened his phone and called Slade, getting his voice mail. “Slade, its Todd and I just met your friend, Eddie. I believe I was the black widow’s midnight snack. Talk to you tomorrow.” Flipping his phone shut, Todd wondered, “ What the hell is she doing in The Katz ?”
Marvin Giles, staff writer for CMM, Critical Mass Magazine, happened to catch the show that Friday night and did a small write up in his column, “What’s Fresh – Who’s Hot.”
Friday, Nov. 10, 2006 – Whiskey A Go-Go
I missed the experience of hearing Elton John play the Troubadour back in 1970, but The Katz piano number, “In The Confessional,” last Friday night at the Whiskey wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night wasn’t as remarkable, but I’m sure Vince Perini, of Astral Agency, will keep these girls under lock and key until he signs a deal. If you’re ever in the mood for girls with guitars, this is your band.
Eddie was shocked to see the write up. She made copies and sent them to Aunt Gia, T.J., and Ben, her brother.
Stanford University, December 2, 2006
The dark room was illuminated by the glow of laptop screens as the elite pre-med students were busy click-clacking away.
Dr. Virgil Pratt reminded, “Finals are next week.”
The overhead lights came on and Kai pulled a white envelope out of his pocket—mail from T.J. He pulled out the short article and picture of The Katz. There was a small note from T.J. ‘She’s coming home for Christmas.’
Reading the few lines by Marvin Giles, his mind went racing back to Eddie. He still had her picture as his screensaver, but looking at the photo . . . it wasn’t the same girl. Taking a last look at the hot babes by the Mustang, he crumpled it into a wad, letting it fall on the floor.
December 18, 2006
The phone rang at 8:30 a.m.
“Hello?”
“Esther, is that you?”
“Aunt Gia?”
“ Good morning , my dear – I woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got to get up for school.” Eddie yawned. Her lumpy mattress of a bed was a far cry from the European linens, hot croissants and French café she had when traveling with her aunt. “My, my, this isn’t your usual
“You might say that.”
“By whom?”
“Giavenetta Constantini . ”
“The opera diva—how’d you score that?”
“She’s my aunt.”
“Ah, so it’s the gene pool.”
“Yes, some twenty thousand hours of practice had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“There was some new material tonight that I’ve never heard before. It didn’t sound like Gretchen.”
“I wrote the first two songs,” Eddie confessed.
“Um hmm,” he nodded. “Slade informed me that you were quite a musician. Tell me—you a jazz fan?”
“Are you kidding, I worship at the throne of John Coltrane, and channel the spirit of Miles.”
“You like Miles?”
“Love him, especially the stuff he did with Gil Evans.”
“I didn’t think a girl of your age would like that kind of stuff. What do you like from Coltrane?”
“His album ‘Favorite Things,’ with McCoy Tyner—It is perfection.”
“Was it Miles or Coltrane that did Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess?”
“They both did. Miles really got into George Russell’s Lydian Chromatic Concept of Tonal Organization. You know, his Ezz—thetics?”
“His what ?” Todd questioned.
“Sometimes it’s called LCCTO, to simplify,” Eddie explained.
“ LCCTO?”
“Yeah, when Miles learned Russell’s art of tonal gravity he demonstrated that in his album, ’Kind of Blue.’”
“ Oh , and where else can I find this, um, whatever you call it?”
“Like classical?”
“Very much,” he answered.
“Then give a listen to Beethoven’s String Quartet, number fifteen, in A Minor, the third movement. There’s more in there.”
Todd left the venue and got into his Porsche 911 GT2. He opened his phone and called Slade, getting his voice mail. “Slade, its Todd and I just met your friend, Eddie. I believe I was the black widow’s midnight snack. Talk to you tomorrow.” Flipping his phone shut, Todd wondered, “ What the hell is she doing in The Katz ?”
Marvin Giles, staff writer for CMM, Critical Mass Magazine, happened to catch the show that Friday night and did a small write up in his column, “What’s Fresh – Who’s Hot.”
Friday, Nov. 10, 2006 – Whiskey A Go-Go
I missed the experience of hearing Elton John play the Troubadour back in 1970, but The Katz piano number, “In The Confessional,” last Friday night at the Whiskey wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night wasn’t as remarkable, but I’m sure Vince Perini, of Astral Agency, will keep these girls under lock and key until he signs a deal. If you’re ever in the mood for girls with guitars, this is your band.
Eddie was shocked to see the write up. She made copies and sent them to Aunt Gia, T.J., and Ben, her brother.
Stanford University, December 2, 2006
The dark room was illuminated by the glow of laptop screens as the elite pre-med students were busy click-clacking away.
Dr. Virgil Pratt reminded, “Finals are next week.”
The overhead lights came on and Kai pulled a white envelope out of his pocket—mail from T.J. He pulled out the short article and picture of The Katz. There was a small note from T.J. ‘She’s coming home for Christmas.’
Reading the few lines by Marvin Giles, his mind went racing back to Eddie. He still had her picture as his screensaver, but looking at the photo . . . it wasn’t the same girl. Taking a last look at the hot babes by the Mustang, he crumpled it into a wad, letting it fall on the floor.
December 18, 2006
The phone rang at 8:30 a.m.
“Hello?”
“Esther, is that you?”
“Aunt Gia?”
“ Good morning , my dear – I woke you up.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got to get up for school.” Eddie yawned. Her lumpy mattress of a bed was a far cry from the European linens, hot croissants and French café she had when traveling with her aunt. “My, my, this isn’t your usual
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