Tom Harrell

I had the most mind-blowing experience the other day (actually two weeks ago now). It was one of the most powerful feelings I had ever felt in my entire life. The intensity of it was more than I could handle, it honestly shattered my perception of the human mind and therefore was the single most powerful spiritual feeling I had ever felt!

I went with my best friend, Josh to hear one of my favorite jazz musicians play at a club, mid-week in Hollywood. I had a feeling it was going to be different from the typical "big-cat-in-town-from-New York" type of concerts by the way
Josh invited me to it. He spoke of this Tom Harrell concert as if it were some sort of secret, underground, almost forbidden performance that he didn't want anyone to know about even our other close friends
whom are jazz musicians. I later understood why.

Tom Harrell is a trumpet player who is now in his 60s. He headlines at clubs and festivals across the globe. His international fame among jazz fans is comparable to that of the giants of Miles and Coltrane which has led him to be called the "World's Best Trumpet Player". The thing is, he suffers from paranoid schizophrenia.

I'm pretty obsessed about the power of the human brain. I love reading about neurobiology and brain psychology (Aspergers Syndrome etc...), it's a subject that fascinates me to no end - hence the book I was reading in China, "Why God Won't Go Away". Well, until that day I had never met or witnessed anyone or anything close to the things I was reading about. The experiments or the accident survivors/alleged freaks labeled outcasts of society-turned science experiment all paled in comparison to what I witnessed when I saw Tom play that night.


Well, the story is getting long and I haven't even started so I'll try to more concisely tell it and I'll let the pictures do most of the talking... His presence on stage was scary! Immediately, I felt nervous watching as he slowly and carefully walked across the restaurant area towards the stage, weaving through the tables and chairs with his horns dangling from the clutches his slender fingers that were peering out of his long black sleeves. He got on stage put down his horns almost dropping them, clumsily fumbled through his music and adjusted his microphone so that it was at eye level. The band started, he stood motionless front and center... arms at his side, stiff as a board with one of the most pained looks I've ever encountered on his face (see pic 9). His eyes were closed, his face tilted towards the sky and his mouth stretched ear to ear in the most
uncomfortable fashion. He looked pained, scared and lost. All I could think was, "this is what this man does for a living?" At this point the music was swinging hard, he didn't move an inch, no swaying, tapping, nodding - nothing... until, only moments before his cue, the horn hit his lips. Immediately the pained look on his face vanished - it was instantaneous. The person before was unrecognizable and it wasn't until now that I could see any resemblance to the pictures of
him from his albums. The transformation was very much welcomed yet still, oddly alienating.


He spoke no words the entire night, yet the entire audience understood everything he said. Blowing the most eloquent sentences from his horn, melodic line after melodic line, drenched with emotion. It was a sick display of flawless trumpet technique mixed with the most sophisticated lyricism that I had ever heard from an artist. His ears were everywhere. And then when he wasn't playing, immediately he would freeze like a deer in headlights and the pained face would
reappear. Or occasionally he would wonder off to the darkest corner of the restaurant and face the wall until it was his time to play again. I honestly didn't know such a transformation was even humanly possible. It was clearly his form of meditation and therapy from his worries.


Any ways, I included a couple of pictures from that night (the video speaks a thousand words but it's too big to email, I'll put it on my website) ...