In the last few days I have been listening to four CDs True Blue – 75 Years of Blue Note Records on my stereo. I have not been using headphones (I do not own any) but sitting back and wowing myself with the sound of my JBL Studio Monitors. The sound in our Kitsilano living room is outstanding. The old-fashioned separation of old-time stereo sound is startling.

It makes me understand and appreciate this kind of home sound as opposed to that of the “Enjoy the show,” overly loud surround sound from a Multiplex salon with the accompanying and lingering smell of popcorn.

I enjoy driving my six cylinder Malibu that has an automatic transmission with three speeds and I wonder how you handle the new cars with automatics that have six or seven forward speeds. If you are young and have no arthritis, the latest Aston Martin with seven-on-the-floor must be a treat but I wonder how it would perform on the afternoon traffic across the Lions Gate Bridge in our increasingly more congested Vancouver.

I remember back in the late 70s when I photographed a lumber baron called Thoma who lived in North Vancouver. He commuted to work every day in a helicopter.

All the above has been in my head while listening to the Blue Note collection. It is amazing how understated (some of those duos between a muted trumpet and a restrained alto or tenor saxophone) and how elegant jazz in the 50s was. There is that special Autum Leaves from a Cannonball Aderley (1958 album Somethin’Else) with Hank Jones, Sam Jones, Art Blakey and (I repeat and) Miles Davis.


I was telling my Rosemary that by 1957 this was the kind of music I listened to. I would buy my records at a supermarket in Mexico City. I cannot imagine that now but then the Blue Note collection I found buried under contemporary (21^st century) stuff at the Kerrisdale London Drugs.