Looking back, I also realize I was always alone, fending for myself, doing the best I could without the family support a seventeen-year-old ordinarily gets. Smoking pot, drinking, playing it cool were my ways of hiding the pain and deprivation I wouldn't let myself recognize. (Chapter 3, p. 56)

Anyway, I can tell you now that musical intimacy is on a completely different plane—deeper, longer-lasting, better than the steamiest sexual liaison. Passion wears out, but the longer you work with a really rhythmical, inventive, swinging musician, the closer you become. (Chapter 3, p. 59)

In all, I did twelve choruses of "Oh, Lady, Be Good!" and when I finished, the place exploded. People shouted, stamped, applauded, whistled, stood on their chairs and cheered. It was the response you dream about, made sweeter by the fact that it came from people who understood what I was doing. (Chapter 4, p. 73)

Carl had...