Neha Neelwarne

On Wednesday May 17th 2017, Fernando and I had a mid-week date night at Classic Pianos. The establishment hosted Larry Fuller’s Jazz Trio. Nando and I are by no means experts in Jazz music, but we have always appreciated what we’ve heard, so we were very excited to experience the concert together.

Neither Nando nor I had heard of Larry Fuller before the event. All we knew was that he was from New York and was good enough to go on tour!

I arrived at the location a few minutes late, rushing from after-work drinks with colleagues. The trio had already begun and Fernando had taken a seat in the second row, saving me one next to him.

I was underwhelmed by what I saw initially. The ambiance was that of a concert venue, so the audience sat and watched the performers play. I would have preferred a bar venue (à la Jimmy Mak’s). Although the room was small, it didn’t feel like an intimate setting.

The three men on stage looked more like scruffy bankers or accountants than they did soulful musicians. Even the piano had handprints on it, and it kept pulling my eyes off of the players. When Larry played, his body didn’t move like I expected someone with passion for the music to move.

However, the wave of music that hit me when I entered the room was electric. Larry’s hands moved all over the Bösendorfer, masterfully creating sound which unapologetically showcased the musician’s skill. When the trio slowed things down and played more melancholic melodies, I was mesmerized.

It took me a while into the concert to realize that while Larry certainly didn’t move like what I *expected* a Jazz pianist to move, he concentrated all of his passion in his hands. While the rest of his body language seemed unsure at times, his fingers on the keys were strong, certain, masterful. He wowed me again and again. His music took me high and low.

Through the concert I also came to recognize the playfulness of the drummer. At times he would wink at Larry, or someone in the crowd. While Larry seemed nervous, the drummer was more relaxed. The bass player was certainly skillful, but I felt at times, that his solos were not as appreciated by the audience as the other players’. I think this could be because of the quietness of the bass, and the fact that many of us have never heard bass solos to appreciate the instrument and the sound more fully. There was no doubt in my mind however that he belonged there with that sound.

While there were only three instruments, they juxtaposed to create delightfully rich and complete music. I started to feel that the bass was under the music, holding it all together – it was solid, unwavering and defined the core principals of the melody being played. The drums generated the gravitational force which kept the melody in place so it wouldn’t fly off into space; they ensure that the piece kept a meaningful pace. And the piano floated above it all, playing the notes that delight and pull at the heart strings.

The audience continuously reacted to the music. They shouted, nodded, tapped and “uh-huh”ed their responses. As the evening went on, the atmosphere became more intimate, largely because of how the audience shaped it.

I don’t have photos of that evening because I didn’t want to take any. I wanted to enjoy the music, let it wash over me without the interruption of pulling out my phone and taking a photo. I was able to be fully present for an hour and react wholly to the tremendous hard work, skill and passion that the musicians shared with us.

I looked over to Fernando’s face multiple times that evening and he was smiling ear to ear. I love that boy, and these musicians brought so much joy to him. We talked about it all evening, with Fernando nudging me to restart my piano lessons. So what if we were saving to buy a house, music was just important enough to start now.