If you’ll indulge me in a brief follow-up about Rob Amster:
I played a gig last night with a great band called the Fat Babies. It’s a 7-piece group that plays jazz from the Twenties and Thirties, and we were playing at the Green Mill. That’s the club where Rob played hundreds of times, with bands led by Kurt Elling, Ed Peterson and many others. And it occurred to me that Rob (when he didn’t call me Jerry) used to call me (and a lot of others, I’m guessing) Buddy all the time. I can recall answering his phone calls, to be greeted with “Hey, Buddy”.
So, when it came time for me to play a solo piano feature with the Fat Babies at the Green Mill last night, an actual good idea popped into my head: I played the 1922 tune “My Buddy”. Great song: check out Jimmy Rowles playing and singing it.
That was for you, Rob. Buddy.
Carpe Requiem.
Thanks for all your stuff this last week on Rob. Feels like his passing might have been a personal blow for you. If so I hope you’ll feel more peaceful soon.
We all love each other and rarely say it. But along with so many of my wonderful musical friends, I love you, and your work. So thank you for your friendship, and your brotherhood.
Peace,
mm
I think it was a personal blow for all who knew and/or played with Rob. I’ve been thinking, wondering a lot about him this week.
I’m still thinking about Rob … even dreamed about him last week.
I thought of Rob tonight: We had a snarky conversation where we mutually decided that, while we didn’t need to do EVERY gig out there (that would be silly), we concluded that we’d appreciate it if folks checked with us first.