royhargrove
In August, 2012, I heard a trumpet playing that was so brilliant and happy, I jumped from my desk to follow it. I found Roy Hargrove playing a free concert in City Hall Park. His trumpet playing gave me a light, breezy sensation that swept away a phase of spiraling darkness I’d been trying to escape for months. The songs he performed that Sunday afternoon kept me buoyant for a long time.
After that, we got tickets to har him whenever we could–whether we could “afford” it or not. He traditionally performed at Chicago’s JazzCase in Chicago at Christmas and those shows were such a high point after too many family traditions.
We heard him play with the RH Factor at the Highline Ballroom in New York, and more than once at The Blue Note. The last few times we saw him, he seemed unwell but with his band, still put on a smart, uplifting show.
My husband will never forget his performance (I was suffering a migraine) at the Litchfield Connecticut jazz Festival, where our daughter was attending a jazz camp. It was mid-day in mid-August, in the mid 90’s, and various jazz artists sleepwalked though their sets under a big tent. No one, it seemed, had the energy to break through the heat and humidity. Until Roy (who was from Waco, Texas) emerged, immaculately dressed in an electric blue suit and tie, his hair in neat dreadlocks. He snapped his fingers rapidly to set the pace for the band and they
took off into a searing hour and a half set. He outburned the sun that day.
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