Frank and the Boyz
by Judith Schlesinger

When a band of young video gamers meets the "real deal" in a stellar jazz guitarist, changes are bound to occur.

It seemed to happen overnight. One minute it was all video games, with the boys totally immersed in furious thumbwork. They'd sit together for hours on end, staring at a busy screen, manipulating cartoon adversaries to kill each other in great bursts of color and noise. There was considerable musical talent among them, and assorted lessons here and there, but no burning interest that any adult could detect.

Then suddenly the group shifted, like a flock of birds responding to an invisible signal and tearing off in a whole new direction. Their new direction was the guitar, and the focus became listening, collecting, finding heroes, and trying to play like them.

And in the beginning, there was...Jimi. The guys started gathering Hendrix - all the available minutiae of his life, as well as his music - and quickly knew more about him than those of us who actually lived through the period that encompassed his career. Now, instead of diving into another round of Super Smash Brothers Melee, they assembled on weekends to practice Hendrix licks and scour the Internet for unreleased tracks. Soon they were debating the relative merits of Hendrix and Clapton, as the musician father of two of them recommended some Mississippi Delta blues, and taught them the importance of the I-IV-V7-I progression. I-Pods were shared and began to overflow.

When a Tae Kwando buddy turned them on to flamenco star Paco de Lucía, the crew became Paco "completists" as well. It was a short step from there to Django, with the help of three inspirational DVDs. We started with Sweet and Lowdown [Sony Pictures Classics, 1999], the Woody Allen film about a guitarist who worships the Gypsy so much that he faints at the sight of him. Its delightful soundtrack, which features [Mel Bay artists] Howard Alden and Bucky Pizzarelli, gave the boys their first exposure to Django's jaunty, elegant sound. We followed this with Django Legacy [Vestapol Video, 1999], the French documentary about Reinhardt's life that was filmed where it happened. The third DVD had the greatest impact: it was Frank Vignola's Gypsy Jazz Jam [Mel Bay Publications, 2004], where Frank trades backup and lead duties with Jimmy Rosenberg, who may have the longest and fastest fingers on the planet.

But it wasn't just their blazing technique that impressed the guys: it was the sight of Frank and Jimmy producing this incredible music in an ordinary hotel room, with the incomparable Joe Ascione playing brushes on everyday objects, like a manila envelope and a stack of telephone books. The casual setting made this legendary style more accessible, and soon the boys had moved beyond "Little Wing" and started working up "Tico-Tico."

Not long after this, we learned that Frank Vignola and his quintet were booked for a brunch gig at the Blue Note, one of the world's leading jazz clubs- less than an hour away. We immediately bought six tickets, and drove the boys to Greenwich Village on a bright September Sunday.

Our first stop was Washington Square Park, the heart of the Village, which had its usual weekend circus on display: colorful skaters and strollers and groups of musicians playing for tips. True to their adolescent creed, the boys were suave, acting as if they'd been there before (they hadn't), and saying little about the show ahead. They kept their cool until we'd settled into our table at the Blue Note, and Frank came by to say hello.

And what a wonderful moment that was! As far as we could tell none of the boys actually levitated, but their masks of indifference instantly slid off and shattered as they shook hands with their idol. A bit dazed at first, they soon started smiling, and pretty much grinned through the entire jubilant set, especially when the band launched into the familiar grooves of "Tico-Tico." They were also encouraged by the performance of Aaron Weinstein, a gifted violinist who, at 22, was only five years older than they were.

After the Blue Note we had dessert and coffee at a nearby sidewalk café, where we discussed the show and watched the action along fabled MacDougal Street. It was a perfect day, and the boys expressed their joy in classic teenage fashion, by gleefully punching and pushing each other all the way home.

Once they got back, they paid the ultimate tribute to Frank and Django -- and Howard and Bucky, Eric and Muddy, Paco and Jimi and Jimmy; as soon as the coats came off, the guitars came out.

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About the Author

Dr. Judith Schlesinger is a psychologist, jazz writer, and musician with a special interest in the intersection between psychology and music. Her "Shrinktunes" column appears on allaboutjazz.com, as do many of her CD reviews and interviews. She is also the author of the forthcoming Dangerous Joy: The Mad Musician and Other Creative Myths, which debunks the ancient myth that talent and psychopathology are inevitably connected.