At the Village Vanguard, a quartet of musicians had just played their last set. The listeners had paid their tabs, left generous tips in the jar, and gone home. The waiters were cleaning the tables and mopping the floor, the manager was counting the evening’s take and stashing it in the safe to be taken to the bank in the morning, and the bartender was making an inventory of his liquor supply. Meanwhile, as they usually did before packing up for the night, the band began a final number to mellow out the staff. The bass player called, “‘How High The Moon,’” and the drummer laid down a fast 5/9 beat. The cornet man ran through the tune once, with the bass and drums backing him up, and then the three of them began to improvise. They wove an incredibly rich, intricate tapestry of riffs, tossing the changing tune and beat back and forth, but the alto saxophonist just blew a steady G. After two choruses, the cornet man stopped playing and asked him, “What’s with that G, man?”
“The rest of you been looking for it,” he said, “but I found it.”
