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June 29th, 2008 was the final day of what had been a somewhat underwhelming edition of the Ottawa jazz festival* but I went anyway, despite having barely heard of the headliner: a piano player named Brad Mehldau. But hey, I had barely heard of Jeff Healey when I shelled out $5 to see him at a chintzy chromeo nightclub in Moncton, I had barely heard of Stevie Ray Vaughan when I took the chance and dropped $17.50 to go see him in Fredericton, and I had only heard two songs** before I decided to take the plunge and check out Phish for the first time (ticket price for that one: $23). Certainly those had all been worthwhile excursions.
Brad Mehldau? Not so much.
Now don’t get me wrong, dude is a great player and he’s played with some folks that I quite enjoy, players like Joshua Redman, Charlie Haden, Lee Konitz, etcetera. He’s even been compared to the incomparable Bill Evans! But Mehldau’s music was so introspective, so thoughtful, so deep (so Bill Evans?) that it begged for much closer attention than I was prepared to shell out for an unknown entity playing a grassy outdoor venue with a subdued jazz trio on that particular evening. But don’t get me wrong again: I’m definitely glad I went. C’mon now, a balmy Ottawa summer night spent in the company of good friends and half-decent beers whilst live (extra-thoughtful) jazz music decorates the open air? You won’t find this guy complaining. At least not today. Plus I had a full-festival pass, so it didn’t cost me a cent aside from the beers.
And if I had stayed home I would probably have drank beers anyway.
*In comparison only with its greater self, of course.
**Golgi Apparatus and Contact.
Todd Man Out 