Ah, Paris!

The Paris Concert; Joe Pass, guitar; Niels-Henning Orsted Pederson, bass; Oscar Peterson, piano

I have visited Paris five times. Traditionally, Paris plays the part of the most romantic city in the world. I won’t deny that its citizens steep the aura of Paris with that certain “je ne sais quoi”. I suppose that qualifies as an element of romance. How many millions have tried to nail down a all-encompassing definition of romance? Or for love, for that matter? We all have our different criteria for a romantic setting.

A city that is determined to exist despite the impossibility to construct streets catches my attention. No cars. I like that. I love Venice.

A city who’s Old Town still functions as it has for over a millennium forces me to consider how we bulldoze buildings that are less than twenty-five years old. Why do I love Salzburg? In just a ten-minute walk from the city centre, you can be out in the country.

A city who’s streets meander where the shores of the Chesapeake Bay SAY they will meander, who has a three-block long main street and a small-town feel despite its thirty-six thousand plus residents, beckoned me to stay for awhile. “Sailing Capital of the World”. I don’t sail. But I love that people here do. I love Annapolis.

The Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, Sainte Chapelle, Versailles and the Champs-Elysees all vie for attention when I come to town. Magnificent structures all. Romantic? Well, yes, I reckon they are. But do they illicit the romantic response in me? I guess I don’t feel it.

The Arc de Triomphe, at the western end of the Champs-Elysees, wins the spoils with regard to my favorite places to visit in the City of Lights. They built it to honor all who have fought for France, particularly those who fought during the Napoleonic Wars. The Unknown Soldier lies in constant state in the Tomb underneath the Arc. My friend C. and I spent two hours up at the top of the Arc, watching the city change from day to night. My sister K. visited the Arc with me in 1993. She wanted to see it because the Tour de France concludes there.

A few blocks to the northeast of the Arc de Triomphe is the Salle Pleyel, a spectacular concert hall. One might say the French Carnegie Hall. On October 5, 1978, jazz pianist Oscar Peterson, with guitarist Joe Pass and bassist Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen, absolutely besnockered the French with an outstanding concert. How lucky we are that the Pablo jazz label was there to archive this performance for all time with this CD. If we get to revisit certain instances on Earth up in Heaven, I want to come see this.

As you, dear reader, have seen, I don’t often say, “Buy this CD.” If you like jazz – buy this CD. Their rendition of Benny Goodman’s “Soft Winds” is worth the price of admission all by itself.

Don’t expect to find elements of romance in my hometown city of Bruce, South Dakota. It has streets. It doesn’t have a bay. With two-hundred and fifty people, it doesn’t have to portray a small-town feel. You CAN be out in the country in about a two-minute walk from main street. Because of, or despite, all these things, I love Bruce.

Credits: To Professor Peter Schickele, for his ability to relate to nearly anybody and everybody through his passion for all kinds of music. I like the way you ended your radio shows: It don’t mean a thing, if it ain’t got that certain je ne sais quoi. Brilliant, man.