jazz

“Some may have, and some may not
God, I’m thankful for what I got“

Warren Zevon- “Hasten Down the Wind”

Ever since I was a little boy, I was always interested in people who did things. Everyone likes to ask children what they want to be when they grew up, but when asked I never really had an answer. I always wanted to know how to do things and why things worked the way they did. I use to spend hours in the how-to section of the library, and record songs I liked off the radio to cassettes. I’d listen to them over and over again to see if I could figure out what made them move me so, all the while wondering how the person who wrote it pulled it out of themselves. For hours and hours I would listen. To nurture this, I was given painting and music lessons. As I got older, though I couldn’t have articulated it at the time, I realized I wanted to be a professional doer-of-things. Unfortunately, there is no specific vocation for that, no box that school guidance counselors can check off or program that they can put you in. I did my best to fit in and do as well as I could in school. School administrators want to see you be a productive member of society and we were all nudged toward that goal, but it all felt boring to me.

Fortunately the curious parts of me were nurtured by band directors, private music instructors, and Boy Scout leaders. I studied jazz and dissected chord changes and figured out what made things sound the way they did. I played in concert bands, jazz groups, and marching band. If it weren’t for marching band I never would have had any dates to school dances. On the weekends I’d go on camping trips and figure out different ways to set things on fire with a bunch of other wild ass kids. In the summer I would go to the local camp and sail boats, shoot guns, practice archery, and continue to set things on fire.

When most kids were saving up for beach week, I bought a Tascam 414 MkII four track cassette recorder. I taught myself guitar and wrote songs in a seven member rock outfit with metalheads, grungers, and punk rockers. Over the years we would play battle of the bands and anywhere that would have us. We rocked middle school dances like nobody’s business.

I went to college and studied music. In the summers I built commercial cabinets in a cabinet shop and tiled kitchens and bathroom working an apartment maintenance gig. Technically these could qualify as shit jobs but I really enjoyed seeing a re-done bathroom that was made nice by my own hands, or driving by a high-powered lawyer’s office and knowing I built all their reception desks. It’s empowering to know that it’s within your power to make beautiful things.

I graduated from college just shy of the 2008 financial collapse. I had figured I would land in some sort of interesting vocation and somebody would just hand me a bag of money, but the country was a wasteland for anyone getting out into the world at that time. People were losing everything they had worked for and the system couldn’t give less of a fuck about a whole batch of college grads who were ready and willing to be functioning members of society. Everything I had heard growing up about the metrics of success turned out to be out of sync with what the world was becoming. Suffice to say expectations were non-existent. I decided I would just continue to do things that I found interesting. If I was going to be poor, I might as well do the things that spoke to me.

I worked just about everything that seemed interesting. When you’re curious about things you tend to say yes to things that come your way. I played gigs and wrote and arranged music. I worked in operations for the local symphony, ballet, and various concert venues or arenas. I was a shipping clerk for a hot minute, a summer camp head of resident life, and managed a warehouse for an auction house. I don’t think I’ve ever been bored and met a lot of other curious people who had appreciation for the mystery of it all. People that you would call renaissance men (or women), who were off the beaten path. Universal spirits who understand the magic that comes from being curious and chasing the muse.

The Esperto Universale was built for one such man I met a few years ago. I was at a friend’s farm for thanksgiving, a potter and musician and overall curious man. He had some of his friends over who were also curious and interesting people. I struck up a conversation with a gentleman about working for Taylor Swift’s Red tour- it turns out he had built the steampunk piano for her show. He was neighbors with Michael McDonald and played porch concerts with him. He and his wife founded the Blackberry Jam Music Festival in Tennessee and perform on it as well. He’s also an inventor and has patents on products you can get at Home Depot.

There’s no roadmap for anything in this life and while I am use to being the odd man out in most situations, it’s always reassuring to meet others that have made being off the beaten path a successful lifestyle. In a brutal world, these sorts of souls you meet along the way help you to feel me connected and seen.

This knife was commissioned by his loving wife. This gentleman is a woodworker and musician, among other things, so I used some reclaimed Cherrywood that came off an old mantlepiece. The bolster is a micarta made from black jeans that I used to wear for a weekly big band gig. Something one of a kind for a unique man.

Bevels ground. The drawing showed a swedge, but that was out of concern that the tip would be too thick. The knife ended up not needing it.

Removing the rough machine marks by hand before heat treatment

Tempered to remove stress from the steel after tempering.

Gig pants to be cut up and layered in fiberglass resin.

PCB board from network chassis. Rescued from a dumpster.

The Esperto Universale is made of high carbon steel, which means it will take a keen edge, hold it a good while, and will be easy to sharpen. It will stain and patina and tell the stories of the places you’ve been- this natural and characteristic of the steel. Your knife is made to be used so don’t be shy about getting it dirty. Be sure to keep your knife clean and oiled when not in use. Should you find any unpleasant surface oxidization you can remove it easily with a lightly oiled bit of 0000 steel wool, or a coarse rag with a bit vinegar on it.

The Blackberry Jam Festival

“This is Mr. Beethoven. Do you hear that? You don’t? This doesn’t move you? Well that’s ok baby, you can always go sell shoes.”

-Doug Richards

This knife was a commission for one of my former teachers and good friends, Doug Richards. I first met Doug when I was fifteen. I had been accepted to a summer residential arts program and went to study music and trombone. I was there with about 50 other musicians and vocalists from across the state. One of the classes I took was run by a jazz saxophonist, who also played every wind instrument known to man. To help us learn about jazz he brought in a very passionate man to speak to us about Duke Ellington, one of the great American composers. This man was Doug.

This particular class was at 8am and we had all been up late doing God knows what, as teenagers away from home living on a college campus are wont to do. Doug noted this and suggested that if we were tired and didn’t have time for the Duke then we could leave and take a nap.

This took us all aback. We all paid attention as Doug put on an Ellington video and proceeded to dance around the room, deigning us with the story of the music and the man…and every member of the band. The man has an encyclopedic knowledge of music and the lore around it.

I ended up coming to university to study with him. He taught a two year course of study on how to write big band music. That was the course description anyway but it was so much more than that. In this class I learned how to listen, really listen, to music. I learned how to discern the masters from the dilettantes. I learned what moved me and the mechanisms of the sounds that held me in those places. Amidst all of this I learned how to compose and arrange music that sounded like me, and no one else.

What I learned most from Doug was the importance of craft. Craft encapsulates art. Without it, your art isn’t as articulate as it could be and your vocabulary to put what you want to say out into the world is stunted. I started to see this all over in my world- in the people I would work with, in the music I listened to, in the food I ate, and the films I would watch. I paid attention to the manner in which things were put together. I spent hours working on assignments from Doug, exercises in craft, to the point where I would seriously question my life decisions. Often times I felt that these exercises didn’t leave room for any emotion. Over and over I heard “Do not emote” when we approached these exercises, but then I would hear something that Doug had written and it dripped with emotion. Was this some cruel joke?

It was not. In time we were told to write things. I would think of what I wanted to say, write it down, and the craft I applied would make it blossom. Almost without even thinking about it. You just know what to do. The way that a warrior knows to make the kill, or a seventh grade guitar player knows to hit the distortion button. And so I started devouring the craft. I studied classical orchestration with Doug, orchestrating Ravel piano scores for wind ensembles. I played in a Stravinsky ensemble he ran and we worked through pieces the likes of which I’d never heard.

As an adult I remember all the lessons from this man. I always try to remember craft, and to practice it. Like a good meal, or good music, or good love, craft is not something that is easily bullshitted. In a world where quality is often compromised for time and quantity, craft stands out. This is the lesson of the Maestro.

The stories of this man are legendary. Here are a few:

-Most of us had heard of Doug doing one-handed pushups before rehearsals back in the day. Somebody mentioned it to him one day before a rehearsal and he dropped down and did 17. None of us could do any…

-When we were rushing the tempo on a piece of music in rehearsal, Doug told us to slow down or we would get a reputation with the ladies.

-There was a limited edition of a recording re-released and Doug told me that I needed to have it. When I told him I didn’t have the money he suggested I get a paper route…

– Before one performance, Doug made an announcement: “Ladies and Gentleman, please take your cell phones, pagers, and all of your other electronic jive out into the lobby, throw them onto the ground and step on them because I don’t want to hear any of them during this performance. Thank you.”

Doug asked for a chef’s knife, for the kitchen. I started with a piece of thin stock O1 tool steel: