That smooth, slow beautiful jazz that time allows me for free. Ahh that's nice. The world transform to night around me when I hear it, a desperate almost manic joy and excitability like its the last night on earth. Everybody moving, everybody feeling. Everybody feeling entitled to their place there. Everybody drunk on the music. How I would spin and spin. Each instrument, voice and trumpet and cello, hit and strum and sung with impulse, on impulse, complementing each other and competing with each other, fighting and toiling and spinning with each other.
This is music. This is music to shake the world.
How sweet is music! some silver liquid the thickness of glue, shiny and glittering. And it flows tremendously, viscous, always a flood and a spill. When it flows you can not hide! it covers all surfaces it can! That is music. Sweet sweet liquid that can not be contained. And when it has covered every surface, it begins to jump and stomp. Like invisible feet are marching all through it, it is tumultuous and it moves and splashes. Playing and in time with itself yet wild and random. What a sight! A thousand invisible dancers moving the music! That is what music is.
And spin and spin and spin and jump and hop and shake and spin and touch hands and tip and tip and shake and spin and swaaaay. And when you are down, when you are sad, the music is a soft sea that carries you. Carries you away from your problems and washes clean where you came from. A caressing pool to ease your pain. It pulls tears from your eyes but then your tears are no more. This is music.
|Brown eyed handsome man|
Listening to: Duke Ellington
Hot and Bothered
Cotton Club Stomp