Walking into the auditorium of the Colegio Cotopaxí in Quito was like entering a time and space warp. It was an enclave of my own version of America, directed by a retired gringo conductor, who greeted his audience in English and gave instructions in English (phrases that only a veteran conductor would use such as “Take it to the woodshop!”). The music reminded me of something that Mr. Eicher, my high school Wind Ensemble instructor, would have chosen to play at the Mid West clinic in Chicago – something modern, complex, musically intellectual but generally unpleasant to listen to. I felt like I was back in high school as I sat watching one of the few jazz ensembles in Ecuador rehearse.




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