Why do people tease me about my music choice?

Wow, what a night. My friend and I went out for wings. We were talking about jazz. We talked about how it was born from racism through minstrel shows. We talked about the fraud that was Jellyroll Morton, and how in 2017 people are saying the same thing about Muslims as they were saying about African Americans in the very early 1900’s, “That the negro is through their unholy ragtime are trying to steal the sole of white people.” The only difference now is that it’s directed at one’s religious choice.
We both knew the use of the word “negro” is inappropriate, but in this context of using it a part of a historical quote, it’s academically acceptable.
Sitting next to us was a guy and two women who kept staring at us throughout dinner. They got up to leave, and one of the girls mentioned to her friend how disgusted she was at having to eat next to racists.
My friend decided to engage. I hope I can remember the whole conversation. All I remember is sitting there like my friend the other night; jaw open not sure how to react.
My friend asked how we were being racists and got a reply that we were also fat shaming and need to keep our disgusting views to ourselves.
My friend’s eyes lit up and asked how we could possibly be fat shaming anyone when we were talking about the history of jazz, which incidentally is mired in racism.
Apparently, one of the girls took offence to the use of the word “jellyroll” which is code for making fun of an overweight person’s body.
My friend had a lot of fun with this one. She suddenly turned on this sexy, playful attitude and looked at the guy right in the eyes and said in a voice that made me glad I was behind/under a table, “Hunny, Jellyroll Morton was an early jazz musician who played in whore houses. He admits that he is nicknamed after those moves during sex which just bring you pure pleasure – that is what a jellyroll is.”
The guy blushed, and I’m pretty sure I did as well. The girls just looked disgusted and respond with a very clever “whatever.”
She then asked the trio if they agreed that banning the Confederate flag and tearing down monuments was a genuine way to stop racism. They both said yes.
My friend then fired her second shot. She pointed out that destroying history doesn’t stop anything, in fact by denying and hiding history only allows people to forget it happened to create an environment where racism is more likely to increase. Not only that but denying and hiding history doesn’t erase it. All they are doing is whitewashing the past of what white people did. It’s like refusing to acknowledge slavery existed. That doesn’t mean it never happened.
They looked freaked out.
She then asked if they practised yoga. They both said yes, and one went so far as to tell us that’s how she keeps her body in such good shape. At this point, I was feeling sorry for them, and I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled.
She asked if they understand the sacred spiritual principles of some Sanskrit word I have no idea how to spell or even look up.
Walking into my friend’s final salvo, they asked what that was. She didn’t answer their question but pointed out that by using yoga just for exercise and not understanding the spiritual principles behind it, they are appropriating culture and isn’t that something they are against?
All I could think or was “walk away”, I was sending that message telepathically.
Didn’t work, The guy responded this time, looking all manly as he stated that his professor says. My friend cut him off. Her injection was that they need to stop listening to liberal professors and taking their word as gospel instead use their time at university for what it’s meant to be, to learn to think for oneself and master the coursework. It’s not to be politically indoctrinated and mindlessly spout off facts which they don’t even bother checking out for themselves.
At that point, they left. But not before the guy made an ass of himself on the way out by repeatedly checking out my friend.
We talked about my other encounters and got some good advice in return.
1. I should stay away from places around campus that students would go to.
2. Get the hell away from the university as soon as possible.
3. Openly record the conversation and say that I’m going to submit it to the police and have them charged with a hate crime. Apparently, the laws where I live are somewhat vague, and this type of interaction may qualify.
She then pointed out that the last option probably isn’t the best, but it would be funny to see how they react.
So… as you know, an old friend dropped by today well before dinner, it was actualy while I was rebuilding my music library. She was reminiscing about how in high school; and even to this day, people constantly tease me about my choice of music. And despite being considered one of the top 5 musicians in the world, most people have never heard of Wynton Marsalis. Somehow, the top 40 hacks are considered musicians because they can use autotune and computer synthesized beats. Sure, some top 40 is decent, but they are generally not high calibre musicians.
In a twist, She now listens to a lot of classical; I’m using that as a blanket classification, and she loves jazz and blues.
For some reason people pigeonhole me as a music snob who only listens to classical and jazz yet, anyone who takes the time to look at my favourites playlist sees that there is music from the 11th century right up to 2017. I like music. At the same time, I had seasons tickets to one of the primer orchestras in North America; I was going to rap concerts. I grew up in the era of NWA and loved it.
Somehow, she convinced me to perform for her. I haven’t played the trumpet in close to a year. I was nervous. But as it’s said “no bullshit, just play,” so I did.
The only songs I could remember were from a concert Wynton Marsalis performed at a new years eve event.
I started off with “second line”, went right into “lil’ liza jane” and brought it home with “when the saints go marching in.” All New Orleans classics. She enjoyed it. I thought it was terrible.

Hopefully, this video starts at the beginning.  For me, it starts at the end… arg technology.  The thrid song I played starts at 22:20

I played the first two songs and the last one. Not as good and not as long since it was a solo performance.
One of the funny thing about my ex and her daughter; and others, who tease me about loving Wynton is that he has played with the most prominent names across genres, including with many of the artists my friends like. So who’s the snob?
As we were going through my music, I found some fantastic recordings I made of some legendary jazz; and all around masters of music, musicians from way back in the day. No one has these other than me.
One of the happiest memories of my teens started off with disappointment, and ended up starting a tradition; that stopped when I met my ex, of going to the same jazz club several times a year to just spend the weekend listing to music.
It all started when I found out Wynton Marsalis was coming to town and I wanted to see him. By the time my dad was able to get tickets, they were sold out. So on the night of the concert, my dad took me to the Rex.
Just as we were getting ready to leave, in walked Wynton and co. The owner just locked the door; it was already relatively late, and said that we could leave, but no one was coming in. It turned out that Wynton had a plain to catch and didn’t want to go back to the hotel room, so he came and just played. That night was like a private concert from my musical hero. Every so often he would explain a little about jazz and how it is a democracy and more about listening than playing. This moment defined how I would play music and live my life.
Just remembering it gives me chills and a huge smile. To this day, I can’t believe it happened. It was magical.
Getting back to my point about my music choices, it’s simple, music makes me happy.
A Japanese Dr did some experiments with water and proved that sound effects the development of the water. We are mostly water, the music we listen to; which is just vibrations, should be positive. I’ll save the rest of this for another entry.
It’s more than that as well, I feel it inside me. Most top 40 I just sit and listen. Classical, jazz and the others make me feel, move, evoke emotion. Not on the emo “I’m depressed, so this music makes me better”; not that I’m judging, for me it’s cosmic.
The last eight years, I haven’t been able to listen to music. There was always a constant battle because what I listen to “is stupid” and, well, it wasn’t worth the continual fighting.
Even when I tried to explain to my ex and her daughter that jazz and mainly blues is the foundation of modern music. With its 12-bar form, it’s used in everything from country to top 40. They didn’t care – it was dumb and stupid. I still don’t understand how music can be compared to a level of intelligence.
We decided to go out for dinner and had a great time. We ate, drank, laughed, and sadly, this was just a quick stop. But she said she would make time for me when she’s passing through next. It was nice. I had a massive crush on her from grade 10 until we graduated. Back then, she liked me but kept her distance because of all the strange rumours about me. That’s another entry as well. Some of them were quite funny. One of the better ones was that I worked for the mob. I then told her something that very few people knew, and suddenly those five years made sense.

MJG

“for I have sworn upon the altar of god eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.” ~ Thomas Jefferson