THERE REALLY WASN'T MUCH in the way of night life in Schenectady, New York, except for the CC Club, a little jazz club up in the low-rent district, I think it was Albany Street. Friends of ours heard that Sun Ra was the man to see, so we all bought tickets. The evening of the performance came, we got dressed up, smoked a couple of joints, and walked the few blocks to the club.

The CC Club was just an old storefront, probably a furniture store. The stage was a low platform at the back of the club and it had been set with a lot of chairs and music stands. The club's tables were the kind you rent for a reception. Around them were metal folding chairs. We bought a few drinks and waited in eager anticipation, caught up in the mood of the crowd.

Shortly, a dozen or so, solemn men silently filed in, instruments in hand. They took up positions on the stage. The sight of such a large group in such a small room was electrifying. The room was deadly still. The group tuned up. The silence expanded.

And they began to play . . .

The sound was stunning . . . strange . . . alien . . . difficult . . . and stunning. We were all stunned.

Presently, four women in flowing gossamer gowns wiggled into the room carrying flashlights with lava-lamp type shades on them. They were followed by Sun Ra. Dressed in long golden robes he danced about in front of the stage, arms waving in every direction. The music continued. Finally, he signaled to his orchestra, and the music stopped. That piece was over.

The applause was polite, utterly lacking in enthusiasm. It seemed like this was going to be a disastrous evening. Sun Ra introduced the members of his orchestra, and then announced a piece he had played years earlier as a member of Fletcher Henderson's band. He raised his arms for the downbeat, and the orchestra began.

This was swing, familiar and comfortable. The orchestra was awesome. Tight and alive. The frowns of disbelief from the first piece were gone, replaced with smiles of appreciation. At the music's conclusion, the audience instantly stood, roaring its approval.

And then a funny thing happened. The orchestra began to play a third number. It was very much like the first. Avant garde . . . strange like the first piece was strange . . . as difficult as anything we would ever hear.

But the audience response was different. Assured by the Fletcher Henderson number that these guys could really play, we all now accepted the music we were hearing, and we enjoyed it. Yes it was out there, and no, you couldn't hum it. But, everyone got it. As the last note died, everyone again leaped up, whistling and applauding.

Our musical educations had been instantaneous. Sun Ra had opened our minds, and for the rest of the evening, tune after strange tune filled our eager and appreciative ears.

It was truly one of the most memorable musical experiences of my life.

BRAHMS

BEETHOVEN

TCHAIKOVSKY