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Pizza and Franks.
Oct. 2nd, 2011 05:39 pmThat was not our anniversary dinner menu. This was. (More or less- it's been updated a bit.) The Sample essentially multiculturalizes the tapas or dim sum concept into its menu, offering sample-sized portions of a variety of dishes. We split a sweet potato bisque soup, a platter of the kroftes (Turkish lamb meatballs) and then entree-type samples of beef and polenta. And chorkit to end, of course. We continued our tradition from the past two years, of seriously overtipping the waitstaff for being part of our memorable evening. This year, it took a new turn; last year's waitress (who we'd never met before wandering into J.P. Bullfeathers for the umpteenth time but who we've since kept in touch with) recommended the spot, and, when we explained to Tom what we were doing and why, it turned out that he knows her. Kevin Bacon's got nothin' on the B-lo.
The Pizza and Frank reference is, rather, to the show that followed- seeing jazz guitarist/vocalist John Pizzarelli, who Eleanor (mostly) knew from his weekly radio show syndicated onto Toronto's JazzFM. It was in the Buffalo Philharmonic's home at Kleinhans Music Hall, with the full BPO backing him up for over two hours of awesome. I haven't been to all that many Pops concerts over the years, but it's interesting to watch the regular orchestra members when they're not playing, during the featured artist's solos, or, in this case, quartets with his own pianist, drummer and string bass player (the latter being his brother). With the possible exception of the orchestra's string bass section (which averages about 83½ in age, plus, yaknow, had to stand there mostly still for all that time while balancing string basses in the air like roided-out dreidels), the musicians on that stage were digging it. You could see their smiles, and appreciation for the virtuosity going on before them, even though the selections were really not all that much String Things in the traditional sense, and their applause for the pieces they didn't play on was just as enthusiastic as ours.
The music of the night was divided mostly between Ellington and Arlen; John wasn't scheduled to perform on the former section, but was more than happy to jump in once he saw the selections and did them great justice. He explained how he now prefers to perform "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" as more of a torch song than it's usually played as; oddly, JazzFM just ran a Tony Bennett segment, with him collaborating with the likes of Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga, and it included Michael Bublé joining Bennett for the more traditional upperbeater version of the same Ellington song.
As for Buffalo's own Harold Arlen, that was the post-intermission part of the night, and it's where John's personality and patter really stood out. He performed "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" before explaining its history: Arlen scratched out the melody after all the other Oz songs had been written, and lyricist Yip Harburg added the immortal words, but when they called in their friend Ira Gershwin to figure out why it didn't work, he had Harold tone down its majesty a bit, to make it fit the voice and sense of the young Judy Garland singing it. (Gershwin also wrote the final "why can't I" tag at the very end; John insisted we tell you that;) The quartet and orchestra then filled the hall with the scary sounds of the Monkeys Chant from the film (as both Eleanor and I both thought "O-rrr-e-o! Hyyyy-drox!" in our heads), which led into one of the most fun solo versions of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" you'll ever hear, with John scat-singing the entire bit.
Ah, and then there was the Frank part. Years ago, John was the opening act for Frank Sinatra for 18 shows on a multi-country tour. Two shows in, the Chairman's assistant called him aside and told him it was time to "go meet Frank." John was retrospectively confident- "Frank was, you know, the other Italian jazz singer from New Jersey, plus I have Pizza in my name"- but at the time, for sure, was quaking. He looked into the same blue eyes that had once proposed marriage to Ava Gardner, and saw four words in those eyes the moment he stuck out his hand: This. Conversation. Is. Over. Yet it wasn't; John's life was forever blessed by FIVE words of pure bliss from the man, the legend that was Sinatra- and whose memory he honored by singing Arlen's "One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)" the way Frank used to sing it:
Eat something. You look bad.
I'm happy to say, last night, Eleanor and I did eat something. And it all looked damn good.
ETA. And of course, she just posted much of this same information while I was writing this. I think I have to buy her a Coke now;)
The Pizza and Frank reference is, rather, to the show that followed- seeing jazz guitarist/vocalist John Pizzarelli, who Eleanor (mostly) knew from his weekly radio show syndicated onto Toronto's JazzFM. It was in the Buffalo Philharmonic's home at Kleinhans Music Hall, with the full BPO backing him up for over two hours of awesome. I haven't been to all that many Pops concerts over the years, but it's interesting to watch the regular orchestra members when they're not playing, during the featured artist's solos, or, in this case, quartets with his own pianist, drummer and string bass player (the latter being his brother). With the possible exception of the orchestra's string bass section (which averages about 83½ in age, plus, yaknow, had to stand there mostly still for all that time while balancing string basses in the air like roided-out dreidels), the musicians on that stage were digging it. You could see their smiles, and appreciation for the virtuosity going on before them, even though the selections were really not all that much String Things in the traditional sense, and their applause for the pieces they didn't play on was just as enthusiastic as ours.
The music of the night was divided mostly between Ellington and Arlen; John wasn't scheduled to perform on the former section, but was more than happy to jump in once he saw the selections and did them great justice. He explained how he now prefers to perform "Don't Get Around Much Anymore" as more of a torch song than it's usually played as; oddly, JazzFM just ran a Tony Bennett segment, with him collaborating with the likes of Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga, and it included Michael Bublé joining Bennett for the more traditional upperbeater version of the same Ellington song.
As for Buffalo's own Harold Arlen, that was the post-intermission part of the night, and it's where John's personality and patter really stood out. He performed "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" before explaining its history: Arlen scratched out the melody after all the other Oz songs had been written, and lyricist Yip Harburg added the immortal words, but when they called in their friend Ira Gershwin to figure out why it didn't work, he had Harold tone down its majesty a bit, to make it fit the voice and sense of the young Judy Garland singing it. (Gershwin also wrote the final "why can't I" tag at the very end; John insisted we tell you that;) The quartet and orchestra then filled the hall with the scary sounds of the Monkeys Chant from the film (as both Eleanor and I both thought "O-rrr-e-o! Hyyyy-drox!" in our heads), which led into one of the most fun solo versions of "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead" you'll ever hear, with John scat-singing the entire bit.
Ah, and then there was the Frank part. Years ago, John was the opening act for Frank Sinatra for 18 shows on a multi-country tour. Two shows in, the Chairman's assistant called him aside and told him it was time to "go meet Frank." John was retrospectively confident- "Frank was, you know, the other Italian jazz singer from New Jersey, plus I have Pizza in my name"- but at the time, for sure, was quaking. He looked into the same blue eyes that had once proposed marriage to Ava Gardner, and saw four words in those eyes the moment he stuck out his hand: This. Conversation. Is. Over. Yet it wasn't; John's life was forever blessed by FIVE words of pure bliss from the man, the legend that was Sinatra- and whose memory he honored by singing Arlen's "One for My Baby (and One More for the Road)" the way Frank used to sing it:
Eat something. You look bad.
I'm happy to say, last night, Eleanor and I did eat something. And it all looked damn good.
ETA. And of course, she just posted much of this same information while I was writing this. I think I have to buy her a Coke now;)