30th smf, day fourteen with a side eye at night

I have never been to a concert like the one tonight at the Trustees.
This one paled in comparison to the fabulous one at the Lucas last night.
Both featured a man with multiple Grammy awards (more than ten for each).
Both featured a man who has decades of music-making under his belt.
Both featured a man who will celebrate his 64th birthday this summer.
Both featured a man with a magnificent mane of long hair.

That's all the similarities between the two concerts.
As loquacious as Ricky Skaggs had been, Pat Metheny was silent as a tomb.
As open and giving as the bluegrass artist was, the jazz man was introverted and close.
Last night, the title of every song had been given, usually with a little story.
Tonight, no song titles were ever given, much less any background for them.
No words were spoken to the audience at all during tonight's jazz concert.
None.
Not even an introduction to the men on stage was given until all was done.
Seriously.
In fact, none of those three men ever even acknowledged the audience was there.
The pianist had his back to us, the drummer's kit was set up on stage left and had him facing the other two, and the guitarist hid under his hair the entire time, never once looking up from his instrument.
Seriously.
So, who were the folks on the stage?
James Francies, a 24-year-old tickler of the ivories; Nate Smith, a 44-year-old master of the beats; and Pat Metheny, the lead draw for this music festival event.
Such a strange concert experience this was.
I had the sensation that I was watching a trio having an extended jam session.
Perhaps that was the intention for this "Side Eye" project.
Perhaps we, the audience, weren't to look directly at the group, but at an angle.
Perhaps we were only meant to be listening in as if they were on a radio or behind a curtain.
As I said, this was quite a strange concert experience.
To add to the oddness of the evening, we were graced with an encore performance.
It was a solo from the jazz guitar virtuoso, with him showing his facial expressions to us while he smoothly blended pieces from several of his early songs into a continuous, mellifluous, new entity.
Then he was gone, following the other two backstage.
Such a strange concert experience this was.
Then again, maybe I was looking at it from the wrong perspective...
instead of from the corner of my eye...
with my mouth held just right.
If I had done so, then I would have realized the sheer genius of the performance.
On the stage were three generations of jazz musicians, making beautiful music together.
Three generations of men from three different backgrounds, on three different instruments, playing their hearts out as if no one was listening, playing for the joy of stringing individual notes together until they combine to form a harmonious total.
My ears and my feet certainly understood the beauty of their work.
Thanks, y'all.
(smile)