“The whole thing seems designed not to let Sonny talk,” said my companion last night at the event that Washington Performing Arts Society advertised as “A Conversation with Sonny Rollins.” Perhaps the more accurate “An Evening of Jazz Scholar/XM Radio Host Dick Golden Telling Irrelevant, Self-Serving Stories and Occasionally Asking Sonny Rollins to Respond to Them” was too long for the handbills.

During the 90-minute program at the Freer Gallery, Rollins spoke for perhaps 25. Five minutes was occupied by audience questioners; the remaining hour was a waste. Golden filled it by recounting his own encounters with Tony Bennett, Count Basie, Gary Giddins, and others; these were often connected to some tenuous end, Golden turning to Sonny and saying “How did YOU feel about him?” Mostly, though, they emphasized how well-traveled Golden was in jazz circles and how much he loved hearing himself speak.

Even more dubious, Golden frequently paused to play recordings–none of which were Rollins’, but were instead by Fats Waller, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, and Frank Sinatra–assumedly because these had greater value in understanding Rollins’ musical development than, say, Rollins actually discussing his musical development.

Despite these concerted attempts to trivialize him, Rollins had some interesting things to say. He talked about the importance of growing up in a musical family, and in Harlem during its Renaissance. Asked about his creative process, he discussed it in terms of the burden he places on himself when he goes onstage: “It’s not about whether the audience is good or bad. It’s up to me to give them something good or bad.”

In this case, however, it was also up to the evening’s host to give us a good or bad experience with Sonny Rollins. By that standard, it was a train wreck.

Last night, WHUT-TV was screening a pretty good documentary, entitled Sam Cooke: Legend. More or less: A lot of the time, WHUT was actually broadcasting from its studio, doing its pledge “break.” A long, long break.

“It’s so important to give your financial support to WHUT,” they’re saying, “so that we can keep bringing you outstanding programs like Sam Cooke, and programs about other great artists and great music.”

…So how come the only time they broadcast these great music programs is during the pledge drives?

Last evening’s concert at the Kennedy Center turned out to be two separate acts, the Dave Brubeck Quartet followed by the Ramsey Lewis Trio, rather than the monumental duet concert I was expecting, but there was nothing disappointing about it. Each delivered a phenomenal set–Brubeck a program of standards and surprisingly contemporary sounds, Lewis one of his own gospel roots and gospel-tinged originals, capped off by their respective hits, “Take Five” and “The In Crowd.”

During both, I was sitting in a side tier with a charming lady, perhaps in her late sixties, who told me stories between sets of seeing Brubeck, Stan Getz, and others on the West Coast Jazz scene of the 1950s. When I told her that I was a freelance music critic, she got a funny smile on her face.

“Do you know a fellow named Ian MacKaye?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

“My daughter lived with him for about 20 years,” she said. “He’s an amazing man, and he really encouraged her in her own art.”

I was sitting with the mother of Cynthia Connolly–longtime Dischord promotions director, D.C. scenester, and author of Banned in DC: Photos and Anecdotes From the DC Punk Underground (79–85).

Between that and the two divergent pianists on the stage, I can only conclude that the Kennedy Center has a unique ability to bring people together.

You’ve got to hand it to Dave Brubeck. He’s 87 years old, and put bluntly, can’t even walk up two steps without a helping hand. But when you sit him down in front of a keyboard, the guy’s got fingers fleet as the wind and an imagination to match. And this weekend, you can have your fill of him down at the Kennedy Center.

Brubeck’s hitting the stage on Sunday night for a duet concert with fellow piano icon Ramsey Lewis, whose 1965 instrumental version of “The In Crowd” was one of the last bona-fide hits in jazz (and was recorded, by the way, at Bohemian Caverns). Sunday afternoon, he won’t be playing, but telling stories: he’ll sit down with Billy Taylor and other special guests for a conversation panel called “The Real Ambassadors,” commemorating Brubeck’s State Department-sponsored world tour 50 years ago. What more do you need?

Charlie Fishman, founder and executive producer of the Duke Ellington Jazz Festival, will host a birthday concert for the late, legendary Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, featuring local jazz talents, at the Lincoln Theater on Saturday, April 26.

The concert features three acts: Jam on U All-Stars (featuring frequent U Street jazz luminaries such as saxophonist Antonio Parker and drummer Nasar Abadey, with conductor Bobby Felder); Will Smith and the W.E.S. Group with Special guest vocalist Cynda Williams; and the DC Bass Choir, featuring Herman Burney, Jr. and Steve Novosel.

At the concert, Fishman will also announce the theme and lineup for the 2008 Duke Ellington Jazz Festival, scheduled to take place October 1-7.

Tickets are $20 and available at the Lincoln Theatre box office at 1215 U Street, NW. (202) 328.6000.

Nobody in the English-language music press seems to be reporting it–even at Pitchfork, which is usually on top of these things–but Klaus Dinger, cofounder of krautrock greats Neu! and La Dusseldorf, died of heart failure on March 21. He was four days shy of his 62nd birthday.

Dinger was a composer and drummer, most responsible for the “motorik” rhythm that defined early Kraftwerk, Neu!, and much of the small “krautrock” movement. He and the other half of Neu!, Michael Rother, also anticipated the remix trend when they ran out of money for their second album and simply filled one side with versions of two previously released songs that they had manipulated by speeding up, slowing down, and warping tape.

Dinger’s second band, La Dusseldorf had a tremendous influence on the work of Brian Eno and David Bowie, particularly their “German” collaborations on Low, Heroes, and Lodger.

Still, Neu! remains Dinger’s definitive work. The below video isn’t terribly interesting to look at, but does feature the band’s signature song, “Hallogallo.”

So long, Klaus.

I don’t make a lot of concert-specific trips to NYC, but sometimes circumstances force your hand. When Ornette Coleman is playing the historic Town Hall, for example, and the date coincides with the premiere weekend of BoltBus.

So after an excursion in a surprisingly nice vehicle (that was nonetheless 90 minutes late) came an evening that was worth every penny of the not just the $2 BoltBus roundtrip, but the $77 concert ticket. Coleman, wearing a gray sporting cap and a green-plaid outfit that can only be described as a pimp suit, hit the stage with his drummer/son Denardo and two bassists: Al MacDowell on electric and Tony Falanga on acoustic upright. Their music was most unusual by the standards of free jazz’s inventor. MacDowell played his electric bass in the highest register, so that it sounded more like a guitar, and played the one thing that’s least expected in an Ornette Coleman performance: chords. Sometimes they were mellifluous; other times they were abrasive; often they were overly loud, drowning out the subtleties of Coleman’s work. But they were always interesting.

Yet Coleman himself is the focal point, and he was inspired. His eccentric trumpet didn’t appear much, but his compelling violin made quite a few appearances–and of course his soaring alto was dazzling. Particular highlights included “Theme from a Symphony,” as well as a free-jazz recasting of Bach’s Prelude to Cello No. 1. But the encore, in which Ornette and the band gave a slightly funky interpretation to his signature composition, “Lonely Woman,” was miraculous.

In concert, Coleman’s music is much easier to digest and enjoy, which makes it a crime that he doesn’t get booked in D.C. more often. Indeed, awarding him a Kennedy Center Honor might even make our city’s highest-profile arts award almost credible.

In this week’s One Track Mind, I mentioned that the DC Improvisers Collective will be playing at the Velvet Lounge this Saturday night. I didn’t mention that they are playing in support of avant-garde tenor saxophonist Steve Lehman

You already know by the term “avant-garde” that Lehman’s a bit of a weird dude, musically speaking. His latest album is called On Meaning, although it’s more accurately described by one of its song titles: “Open Music.” The instruments (sax, trumpet, vibes, bass, drums) often seem to be bouncing off each other, rather than actually playing together. But the result of those collisions is profound and often playful music, the kind whose biggest surprise is that it can be listened to over and over again with considerable ease and pleasure.

His stop in D.C. is a solo performance—actually, Lehman’s website describes it as “music for solo saxophone and live electronics.” Lehman’s an unconventional enough musician that it’s hard to know what he’ll actually sound like at the Velvet Lounge…but an exciting enough musician that it’s worth finding out. The show starts at 10 pm with DCIC’s opening set. 18+ only.

Top Shelf Oldies is an nighttime-only Internet radio station dedicated to spinning the rarest of rarities from the ’50s and ’60s pop charts. (Actually, some of them are so rare that they never even made the pop charts.) In a single three- to four-hour shift, you’re likely to hear maybe two songs you’ve heard before–unless you’re an extremely knowledgeable oldies connoisseur.

Tuesday nights, Top Shelf Oldies offers a local connection with a show called “The Time Machine,” hosted by a rotating set of three men who call themselves the DC Dynamos. Tonight, and every third Tuesday night from 8 to 11 p.m., it’s Ken Carpenter’s turn…although longtime D.C. residents and aficionados may know him better as Ken Sleeman, general manager in the ’70s for Georgetown University’s then-notorious WGTB-FM. Tune in for great oldies you’ve never heard, and drop into the chatroom to tell Ken hello.

“Music is a lot like color,” a wise man told me once, “in that there is no real right or wrong - there’s only what appeals to you, and what doesn’t.” I thought that was a terribly profound assessment, and it’s had a vast influence on how I approached music ever since.

I say this so that you’ll know not to take it lightly when I say that if you are not going out to the State Theatre tonight to see guitarist Pat Metheny, in his trio with bassist Christian McBride and drummer Antonio Sanchez, you are wrong.

My esteemed colleague Brent Burton does a pretty good (if inadvertent) job of backing me up on this one.