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There are stories we tell ourselves. There are stories we tell our friends. There are the stories we tell strangers. There are stories we never tell.
 
Somewhere, in the middle of all of this, is the Third Story. The intersection between the art and the craft, making a living and doing the living, the personal and the professional…The place where all of these meet is the Third Story.

The Third story features long-form interviews with creative people of all types, hosted by me, Leo Sidran. Their stories of discovery, loss, ambition, identity, improvisation, risk, and reward are deeply moving and compelling for all of us as we embark on our own creative journeys.

In addition to my passion for discovering and sharing the stories of others, I have built a career in New York as a musician and producer. Learn more at leosidran.com.

Nov 19, 2015

What did it feel like in Paris on the night of Friday, November 13th?

 

From my point of view, it started with a lot of positive energy. I walked into the Sunset jazz club in the Chatelet area, where I was performing with my dad’s quartet, and said hello to some friends who had come to see the show. It was a good crowd, a full house on a Friday night and people were out to have a good time.

 

We played the first set and took our first break. One audience member said something to me about an event that had happened in a soccer stadium in Paris. I didn’t think too much about it.

 

We played the second set. When we finished it was around 11:30pm. My cell phone was starting to fill up with text messages from abroad – something was happening in Paris. I looked at the audience and noticed that everyone was glued to their cell phones, following the news. We still had one more set of music to play.

 

Finally we saw a news alert that some shootings were happening not far from us. I felt an intense need to get out of there. I felt a strong awareness of my own mortality and a feeling of vulnerability that I don’t think I ever felt before.

 

Within a short time, we all came to the conclusion that it would be better to end early than to play the third set.

 

The streets of Paris had already started to clear out. An eerie stillness came over the city, and there was nothing but the sound of sirens in the distance, all night long.

 

This is my conversation with my father, Ben, about our impressions of that night.