Last week we took our guests to a jazz concert in Donetsk. I'm not a jazz conneseur, but it seemed to be a pretty good concert. The hall was as full as I have seen it and was an interesting mix of older and younger people. The band was rumored to be "well-known throughout Europe" and reminded me of the North American band Phish (which I don't consider jazz, but still enjoy). Supposedly the lead singer has roots in Donetsk, and the guitarist in Ukraine, but the others in the band were from Western Europe.
Toward the end of the show, a special guest performer was announced. His name was Valery Kolecnikov, and the person who introduced him excitedly said he had played with some famous jazz muscians, including Dizzy Gilespy. I am not sure how this could be, with Kolecnikov being an older gentleman from the Soviet Union and jazz being forbidden listening, let alone playing. But that's not to say that it wasn't possible and maybe it was a more recent occurrance.
I have heard that jazz was and is very popular here in Ukraine. It was an "underground" thing in Soviet times and seems to have kept its popularity over the last several decades. I don't think I fully realized this until the concert. I counted six approximately 70-year-old men, some in groups and others alone, whose faces were visible from my seat. For the majority of the concert their expressions were distant and complacent; as men of their age here seemingly always are on the the street. But when Kolecnikov took the stage, they leaned forward in their seats so far that their elbows were resting on the seats in front of them. And when he
started bouncing all around the scales with his trumpet, their faces lit up and their heads may have even started bobbing. There was so much expression on these six men's faces. It was amazing and I found myself watching them instead of the concert, thinking about what they may have gone through in their lifetimes to be able to listen to such music. Seeing how much joy it brought them was worth far more than the $4 ticket price.
