Rich Sigberman Art & Illustration 90

Around 1978, I bought an lp by McCoy Tyner called, "The Real McCoy" on Blue Note. It was a cutout at $2.99, and I still can recall the store off of St. Marks Place in Greenwich Village where I got it. Most of my 3300 some odd records were purchased in this manner, which allowed me to really stretch my budget for music. But, I digress, as usual.

Upon listneing to the record, I decided it was ok, and nothing more. Over the years, I would listen to it again, and my original assessment remained the same. Two nights ago, I decided to pull out music by artist whose work I had more or less neglected recently, and McCoy Tyner came up. I put on one of his Columbia albums, "Looking Out", which I found to be an awful piece of commercial pap, far below him. Even Carlos Santana guesting was no help. Then, I put on "The Real McCoy". Heck, I was hard at work on a tight deadline and the music would do just fine in the background.

Something happened this time that I can't even explain. I found the music exhilerating, very well writeen and very well played by a stellar quartet. And then, one title came on, "Song for Peace" the album's only ballad. I could barely believe how beautiful it was, especially when Joe Henderson's tenor comes in. I walked over to the record player, lifted the tone arm, and placed it down again on the same number, this time turning up the volume considerably, and listened again. This time I stopped painting. "How could I have never thought this music was great?" I asked myself. I then listened to "Song for Peace" one more time, and then again the following morning. What happened to change my mind after 37 years?

I wish I could tell you, but I really can't. It's very rare for something like this to happen for me. All I can think is that , for some reason, I was in a much more receptive place this time around. Maybe working so hard at my craft opened my ears up in some way. Maybe my Integral Transformative Practice (which I haven't been practicing so much lately) changed me in some way.

All I can tell you is that I enjoyed this music in a deep way, and inhaled it like a breath of life-giving air. My conclusion is not to stop and smell the roses. It's more like, "we often have overlooked gems right under our noses. " While I wouldn't try to force myself to like something that I have not yet learned to appreciate, I was open to a chance encounter for soemthing I had thought I had already gotten as much from as I ever would. I was wrong.