I read this last night in Haruki Murakami’s phenomenally well-written page turner, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (1997). He writes:
In the pile of tapes on the shelf, I spotted such names as Sergio Mendes, Bert Kaempfert, and 101 Strings. So he was an easy-listenin’ freak. It suddenly occurred to me that true believers in hard-driving jazz–Albert Ayler, Don Cherry, Cecil Taylor–could never become owners of cleaning shops in malls across from railroad stations. Or maybe they could. They just wouldn’t be happy cleaners.