TBTQ

Sometime last year, I started culling together stories of fortunate occurrences that have allowed me to build a better bucket list. 
This is one of those stories.  



Last night [a year ago] I added another extraordinary happenstance to my list of once in a lifetime experiences. I was presented with the unexpected pleasure of attending Q85: The Musical Celebration of Quincy Jones, live in Los Angeles. 

The event itself was lucky to exist at all…

In celebration of Q’s 85^th birthday in March, and following the well-received Netflix documentary QUINCY produced by his daughter Rashida, there was to be a night of musical homage paid to the icon filmed for primetime TV. The original creators of the show pulled the plug on the program a mere three weeks before the shoot and it was thankfully rescued and revived by another network. I only learned of the taping the day-of and was providentially persuaded to purchase a ticket at the last minute.  

Seizing spontaneity is my specialty… 

Our thankfully shortlived view.

I couldn’t have possibly expected the unique splendor of what was to come. 

And I am easily unimpressed. I’ve been to Hollywood TV tapings before. I work in production. I know the man behind the curtain... we send each other memes. I’ve been fortunate to see some amazing artists this way and observing other live productions and their inner workings is always a treat for me. It’s a show within a show and I know the lingo. But rarely do I get to sit back and surreptitiously revel in the enjoyment of it all, much less in a room with so many individuals who helped shape my musical identity. 

Stevie Wonder: Take Two.

Ludacris introduced Brian McKnight. Oprah announced Stevie Wonder. Who I giddily watched perform live… twice! Enraptured by the performances almost as much as the takes, do-overs, and banter that was plentiful after the cameras stopped rolling, that only the dapperly dressed audience of the Microsoft Theatre that night would ever witness. 

Usher introduced Fantasia, Danny Glover brought out Jennifer Hudson, LL Cool J ushered on Neyo for renditions of Rock with You and Human Nature that just might convince you they had actually resuscitated the King of Pop for this unprecedented occasion. Dave Chappelle lamented not having a tambourine… as he shared the stage with Herbie Hancock and some of the most prolific jazz musicians that exist; in the universe. Then came a self-accompanied John Legend and YOU GUYS Gregory Porter. 

I was a happy girl. 

Rashida stood proudly with her father as the evening lurched to a close, and Quincy himself gushed over Gladys Night as she graced the Oz-ian themed stage for the final number. I literally cannot remember all of the spectacular star-studded appearances –the exemplary original musicians and singers accompanying this fest, notwithstanding. 

There I sat, happily half a theatre away from a variable parade of idols, which will never occur again. And the caliber of which may fail to exist when they are gone.

Charlie Wilson & a Big Band in the Bayou

The whole night, I just couldn’t get over how lucky I felt. What a privilege it was to see not only incredible iconic talent and their exclusive performances from Quincy’s repertoire, but to witness these musical legends express their genuine care and respect for the Man of the Hour. My heart swelled, being in the presence of this man. This man whom, for so many years, put music first. Constantly learning and adapting, pushing the boundaries of what was possible and striving for progress, only to learn that the love of the people around him is what makes any song worth singing. 

I spent today [a year ago] listening to some of my records that Quincy Jones produced. I’d venture there are many more in my collection that I didn’t even realize he was involved with. The reach of his career is astonishing. His influence spans decades, genres, formats, time, and (literally) space. Fly Me To The Moon, which he arranged with Frank Sinatra, was the first song ever played on our little bright night rock. 

I started and restarted the documentary, only to stop and start it again, over and over. His life is so inspiring that I feel intimidated by his virtuosity. No recent biopic has made me so sad for the loss of inherent genius and the wasted, dried up roots of creativity. I feel like mourning for the artistry we have lost in this one man’s lifetime. 

But not before celebrating the lifetime of this one man. 

I wrote this a year ago today and left it sitting unfinished, like so many things, with the intention to return and clean or finish or otherwise relate it to something profound... I still don't know what that is. The passing of time has a way of prioritizing things, even in the smallest of ways. I'm grateful I felt the need to make these notes that day. It is powerful to revisit something inspiring that has become insignificant and transform it back to being inspiring again. What is important remains important.

As I sat pontificating the point of that last paragraph on a lounge chair under overcast morning clouds, the skies opened in an uncharacteristic end of summer rainshower, sending me dashing indoors, signaling the end of my writing session and ultimately, my time toying with this piece. 
Okay, I get it, Universe. On to more memory-making.