If I'm Not Home: Ron Cooper - A Jazz Life (film)

 FOLLOWED BY A JAZZ JAM SESSION HOSTED BY BRIAN O'HERN & LOU MARINI.  Chicago jazz musician Ron Cooper went from frequently singing at legendary jazz clubs like The Green Mill to living in bars and on the El. "If I'm Not Home" examines Cooper's unique contributions to the Chicago jazz scene, his struggles with homelessness and alcoholism, and the musical passion that sustained him. Many Chicago jazz musicians contribute their perspectives to Ron Cooper's singular life in jazz.  Martyrs' is proud to host a sneak preview.Chicago Tribune says:The homeless Chicago jazz man who should have been famousFebruary 24, 2011|By Howard Reich | Arts criticIf talent alone were the predictor of artistic success, Chicago singer Ron Cooper would have been a star. Blessed with a plush baritone and a remarkable ability to use it, Cooper in the 1970s seemed destined for great things.Instead, he spent the last two decades of his life homeless, stumbling into gigs wherever he could find them but little noticed by anyone who could rescue his career — or save his life. When he died in 2007, at age 62, he was utterly obscure, a great musician whose art was savored by a few but unknown to a jazz public that surely would have treasured it.Fortunately, Chicago documentarian Dustin Grove has salvaged Cooper's story and — more important — his music, in a moving, melancholy documentary, "If I'm Not Home: Ron Cooper, A Jazz Life.Befriended by Cooper two years before the singer's death, Grove began interviewing him and filming his performances voraciously. In effect, a neophyte documentarian trained his lens on a musician no one else was vaguely interested in.But Cooper proves a mesmerizing subject, singing exquisitely in ballads and bebop, opining on his troubles with disarming candor.From a hospital bed he confesses: "The doctor told me … 'If you get out of here, and you go back to drinking like you were drinking, you're going to have only two more car rides in your life. One is to us, where we'll pronounce your silly ass dead, and the next one is in a hearse.'"Contemplating success that eluded him, Cooper observes: "If it was meant for me, I'd have it. Obviously, this is not meant for me. So I'm not going to have it on a grand scale. But during my lifetime, I've made a lot of people happy through my music."That's obvious whenever Cooper sings, listeners relishing every note, even when he's crooning on the subway platform for his own pleasure, oblivious to everyone around him. No sooner does he begin to sing than heads start to turn, unsuspecting commuters dumbstruck at what they're hearing.And therein lies much of the beauty of this film, which follows Cooper into his world: the streets. The singer tells most of his story as he wanders the boulevards, night falling, a satchel often thrown over his shoulder. He sleeps on the elevated train, serenades diners eating al fresco, takes up residence in clubs that eventually throw him out.

• http://www.roncooperjazz.com/