An irreverent and opinionated guide to jazz in Kansas City.
Sunday, August 23, 2020
Call Me Karen
I was taken aback when I tuned in to a livestream of a jazz gig at a Kansas City nightclub last week. None of the musicians wore masks. Neither did any of the six or seven members of the audience in the sightline of the stationary camera. Aside from a mask draped around the neck of a patron, no indication of these abnormal times was evident. I take pride in nearing or exceeding my goal of catching 365 individual music performances every year. The past five months have been devastating on a personal level- live music is my passion- and from a financial perspective- I’m not being paid to preview and review concerts as a professional critic. Even though it’s excruciating, I do my part by staying home. It’s a shame so many other people abandoned the communal effort. Thanks for prolonging the agony, jerks.