the coolest nerd in town

A few days ago I was sitting in the lobby of the Beacon hotel with 16 years old Italian altoist FC, throw-your-hands-in-the-air-and-scream-hallelujah prodigy. Deserving of some kind of religious rapture (for some, others like me admire but cum ratio) is his young age, naturally, and how still so green in his merrow he's able to pair technical precision and feeling. What shouldn't surprise or shake is his nationality: after all Italian jazz is in full bloom.

I was there to interview him for the Italian magazine Jazzit. He was wearing faded jeans, shades, engulfing his babyface like some kind of Carnival mask, and an attitude - I had already noticed it the night before at the club he was playing for the week. I couldn't tell how much of his headache was pose, and i decided his wink and slight cockiness were signs of a common and curable disease: teenagehood, with the complication of a celebrity in progress. I knew I was right a few minutes into the interview: as he was loosening up, responding to my cues and, most importantly, to the mention of his friend and mentor, Mr. MW, I could almost see the layers peel off. And what was exposed had freshness and no nonsense.

I wasn't suprised by his quick change of regsiter, rather by a comment made by one member of his crew: "I'm shocked" he said, "you are the first woman, beside my wife (I spoke a mental "woa"), who is so passionate about jazz, and at such a young age!".
"And she's competent!" said F's father.
And there it hit me: not the clumsy, probably unintended sexism. Rather his surprise: I am young, female, vaguely attractive. Ergo, it is impossible, almost sacrilegious, that i should be interested in jazz. I know this is a common feeling in some social circles, yet i can't bring myself to accept, let alone fully understand it.

What is so uncool about jazz? - and by jazz i don't mean Nas' latest jazz-hip hop stint, or New Orleans rebranded hip-hop brass bands, or California's melodic, borderline pop-world music jazz. Or, I cannot believe I'm even writing his name, the Backstreet boy of jazz, Chris Botti. Naw. I mean the real deal. Yes, that vinyl with the torn cover your dad wouldn't stop playing. That 78 to which your Grandpa proposed to your Grandma. You know who they are, right, those guys with an instrument, little money, a habit and the history of jazz in their heels?

What is so uncool about jazz? Nothing. Believe me, nothing. If you stick around long enough, I'll prove it to you.

So, in case you were wondering if this is just some random ranting and/or venting, the answer is no. I'm going somewhere with all this.

I am on a mission.