This was a day made for blogging. Not only did I get an unexpected sneak peek at the new Museum of Modern Art, but I spent the evening at Birdland listening to the Phil Woods Quintet, with Bill Charlap sitting in on piano. That’s an only-in-New-York story raised to the umpteenth power.
Alas, I’m still a few feet under the weather, as is Sarah, who met me at Birdland and was duly blown away by Woods and company. Seeing as how we both have time-consuming stuff on our plates tomorrow (Sarah is sitting on a panel with Maud, while I have to write a speech in the morning and give it in the evening), we decided to be mature, sensible adults and hang it up early.
Actually, it was Sarah who was mature and sensible. Left to my own devices, I probably would have stayed up half the night writing and paid the price tomorrow, but she set me straight.
“Should I blog tonight, or should I go to bed?” I asked her in the cab after the gig.
She looked at me with open-mouthed horror. “Are you kidding?” she replied, all but wagging a stern finger in my face. “Go home and go to bed. You can write this up on Friday–if then.”
I knew when I was licked. I have lots and lots of thoughts to share with you, but they’ll keep until Friday–or longer.
In the meantime, the Phil Woods Quintet is at Birdland through Saturday. If you’re loose, go. If you’re not, get that way. If you can’t, order this album and eat your heart out.
Later.