Allow me to paint a picture: A field stretch of crowd and some drifters along the edges, a blanket on the grass, delectable bites and a drink of choice, and the backdrop of jazz to embrace you and your crew–that was my weekend at Savannah’s Jazz Festival in Forsyth Park. If you happened to miraculously not be in the loop, the city held a jazz festival featuring artists at hot spots around the city between September 18th-24th. Some were pay-to-see, showcased in the Lucas Theater or Ships of the Sea Maritime Museum. Though, if you’re like me and any other college student–you will look for the most cost-efficient option and this time around it was the back-to-back days in Forsyth Park over the 22nd and 23rd.
I happened to arrive around 6:00PM on the 22nd, an hour into the start of the fest. I missed the announcement of the artist already performing on the stage, and my friends and I opted to sit on the opposite side of the stage so as to focus less on the well-developed crowd and more on the energy of the night. We set up our little travel pack of a blanket and some snacks, circling up to enjoy some live music.
“It sounds like someone is running or chasing after something,” my roommate said when describing the sound.
It was juxtaposed smooth yet cacophonous rise in tension between the instruments. Something unique to instrumental music is the story you have to infer from the sound. There are no words to guide as a map for the meaning, only the gut-feeling you have as you listen. There is an impersonal effect of not bearing witness to the artist themselves, but also the opportunity to experience the music. Festivals such as this are hubs for interpersonal connection, either by kicking back and listening to the music itself or socializing with other festival-goers.
My friends and I didn’t stay until the night’s end, but we stuck around until about 8:45ish halfway through the fourth set. There were highs and lows that accompanied the music, moments of crescendo that would forcibly pause a conversation. Then there were pieces that prolonged a conversation, more than white noise as though it was a voice in the discussion itself. I’m not exactly an artist-oriented person, especially at local festivals. I’m a casual enjoyer “going for the vibes”, as my friends and I put it, but is that any less of a reason to go? We showed up, we supported, we bonded with the help of lovely music, spotted airplanes overhead, and a sense of community.
When it comes to a genre like jazz, I don’t love it or hate it, but I have a connection to it through my family. It curates a specific type of nostalgia that takes me back to my great aunt’s living room on Christmas Eve or sitting in at the local outdoor theater with my grandma to catch a military concert. Sometimes all you need to enjoy some music is the lingering ghost of a feeling that once brought you comfort. So no, I don’t have strong feelings for jazz–just the phantom of one.
