Seeing Elvin Jones' picture on the cover of Drum! magazine and flipping to articles that referred to him in the past tense last weekend was my first realization that this great drummer had died in May. I blamed my ignorance on the fact that I live in a partial media vacuum, but I see that Carlos Santana had qualms about the dearth of coverage.

Thanks to my friend Alan (who's always astute about booking tickets), I saw Elvin for the first time at the Regattabar in March, which must have been one of his few final appearances. During the show I was in awe at his sparse, brilliant, unmistakable playing and the obviousness that these are the powerful, authoritatively spiritual drums that I hear on A Love Supreme.

His wife Keiko spoke during a break, telling of Elvin's original heart failure, how the doctors said he'd need to rest and have some kind of therapy, and he'd replied that the only therapy he needed was to continue to play the drums. His determination reminded me so much of my father after his heart failure -- continuing to golf and be in his element, grasping life firmly but gently. After the show I joined the queue to shake Elvin's hand. I told him how inspiring he was, but I didn't take the time to say why. He responded simply "It's my pleasure".