January musings

While I am very busy I can’t always remember what it was that made me so, and it’s not the wine. Or the gin. Last night I was escorted by a lovely tall Romanian beauty Nicoleta who volunteered to show me the way to a jazz club where a new friend Tiziano would be playing. I am fully capable of finding anything in Firenze, armed as I am with maps of all scales and content, but a companion on a passegiata seemed a fine idea. So we walked, she with her bici and I with my limp, the five or so blocks (the only blocks actually here are the stones that make up the buildings and streets but there is no other way to describe the distance since I’m metri impaired.) to the piazza where we would find the venue. Italian all the way, even if she would like to learn some English. The club was in the bowels of a pizza restaurant not unlike the lower levels of the churches: arched ceilings and small bricked up proto windows, refectory style tables and benches for seating. More Italian again. And because they are very polite they told me my Italian was fine. Should be fined is more like it. After some time waiting, surprisingly free of demands that we buy drinks(TG), the musicians arrived with kisses for all including me since I was “a friend of the band!!” No backstage privileges. No backstage. The group was pure geezer rockers with either no hair or more grey than me. Six pieces: drums, bass, piano/organ, 3 guitars trading the lead and rythym. All good players. Typical west coast style. All Italian lyrics. LOUD! Glad I brought my ear plugs. Played for two hours + without stopping. Tiziano is lovely, speaks fine English. (I’ve told the ones who will listen that an Italian accent is an American aphrodisiac but some still won’t speak even if they do better at an alien language than I) The crowd was mostly middle to my age with a few young groupies including one who seemed to know all the words to all of the songs. Too loud to talk which was sort of a relief at least for the first hour and a half. Having never been a concert goer and stayer-up-later-than-12 type, I faded at the end and made for home around 1.30 texting Nicoleta that I was off. She’s adorable and I hope to see her soon again, this time for English.

Music in the Piazza

There’s a tango concert this evening with a flutist and a violin and a cello and an electric piano and the air is warm and there are dozens of people lounging in chairs and watching and the music is very nice unlike the last few concerts which were either loud or inharmonic or LOUD. I have a first row freebie seat for these concerts since my windows overlook the piazza. But when there is music, I prefer to observe the party from the square itself. More autentico. I think these concerts will continue for the month of September and possibly into October if the weather holds. We are warm and comfy just now but the man in the military uniform on TV says that the forecast for tomorrow is for changeable weather with a chance of showers. Actually I don’t mind if there is some variation in the clime since this resolutely bel tempo is getting a bit boring. Being from the SF area which changes weather from morning to evening, consistency is my hobgoblin. So soon I will order another G&T and dissolve into simple audience mode. It’s a nice night.
Music in the piazza v2.0. Last night a different group played. This time it was up tempo New Orleans style brassy jazz. Loud but good loud. The crowd was very appreciative with many more dancers than the tango group. Well, this music allowed a more free form style of dance. They even had some playful tricks with a balancing act and some schtick with water. Then one of the crazy denizens of the piazza accosted me and tried to lecture me on using a computer in the area reserved for paying customers (but I had a G&T, natch) and my Italian was no match for his fractured English. He sat with me for a bit and plied me with odd questions until the music ended and I went home. All the way to the other side of the piazza.