He is the peerless master of French jazz, and everywhere in Europe he is greeted like a visiting professor. But when he arrived in Manhattan for his American debut, his boat docked in a puddle of regulations. Not a word could be said of him until the clerks had had their day. When Union Card, Cabaret Card, and Social Security Card had legalized his presence at last, and the cognoscenti heard that Martial Solal was playing the piano at the Hickory House, the coolest ones dropped everything to go and hear him.
Rare...
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