July 21, 2017.

I never quite understood the way music unites us until today.

I got back from work around 8:30pm tonight, though of course daylight lasts
until much later around here. And it had been a long day (and a long week), so
I put down my backpack and started noodling on the piano to take my mind off
life.

Around half an hour later, someone walks over. He remarks that he likes jazz,
and I stop to introduce myself.

Danny, it turns out, is a master's student of computer science in Taiwan. This
is his first time outside his home country: he is learning English at the
University this summer.

I ask him if he plays an instrument. He plays guitar. He hasn't had formal
training, and he jokes about being able to afford to study at Berklee. I ask
him if he has heard of Pat Metheny, and, since he hasn't, I put on my favorite
track "Red Sky" for him.

We listen. He says it is "comfortable" music and takes a picture of my screen.

I ask him if he has a favorite song of his own, and he suggests something by "6
String Theory". It is in 5/4. We count out loud, together: ONE, two, three,
four, five. I talk about Dave Brubeck and "Time Out", about the brilliance
needed to count in 7/4 and 9/4. I tell stories of my high school jazz band's
drummer, bearing the weight of an ensemble on his calm shoulders.

Danny wants to come work in the US someday, but is afraid that he will not get
a visa under the new administration. I try to explain that the immigration
issues likely will not affect Taiwan, but he simply smiles and I begin to
understand.

I ask him how he became interested in jazz. He says he heard a couple of songs
called "Misty" and "Autumn Leaves" and that he really liked them. I play him
the first bars of Autumn Leaves. He lights up with a grin of recognition. He
tries to convey something to me, but cannot find the words in English. The
black keys are "safe" and the white keys are "dangerous". He plays a couple of
notes on the piano to illustrate what he means. And then I understand: he likes
bluesy riffs.

I tell him that the blues comes from the Chinese pentatonic scale. I show him
how "I've Got Rhythm" is just the black keys, and how you can make it bluesy by
adding just a little bit. We talk about the origins of jazz, the way it is
passed on from person to person, the way the real fake book unites musicians
who have never met before, the way no two performances are ever quite the same.
(At one point, he gestures urgently with his hand in place of a word, and nods
with relief when I suggest "improvise".)

We talk about the way jazz fuses ideas from Africa and Latin America and Asia.
By way of example, I play him Autumn Leaves again, but with a Bossa Nova
bassline. He says, instantly, "Bossa Nova?" and I nod excitedly. He tries to
recall another style, and I realize he means "samba".

We talk about La-La-Land. He asks me if I know any of the songs from the movie,
and I play "City of Stars", making many mistakes along the way. But when I get
to the secondary dominant before the bridge, he inhales and there is a moment
of shared appreciation for the beauty of that chord. He says "City of Stars" is
his favorite song from the movie. I mention that Jason Hurwitz was quite young
when he composed this music. We look him up on Wikipedia to check for sure,
and, when we learn that he was barely thirty, we stare at the page in awe.

We realize it is getting late. I offer him my email address, in case he ever
needs help. He thanks me, wishes me good night, and disappears into the
corridor.

These, dear reader, are the moments I live for.