All About Jazz needs your help and we have a deal. Pay $20 and we'll hide those six pesky Google ads that appear on every page, plus this box and the slideout box on the right for a full year! You'll also fund website expansion.
The place was empty, even of the tourists who don't matter. I won't be paid to play, this too does not matter.
The piano squints, letting a few notes slip out, before I am told to leave it alone for fear of having to stand me a round.
No money and not even the false hope that something may happen, I leave. I hum a song to myself, that song, her song
The sky is a prop, flat black. Walking down the street, three times I heard the same song when your name was mentioned.
Don Juan's daughter is destined to be lonely.
Yet I only talk to her across an empty bar over drinks. I had jinxed myself, no notepad, I write down the things I should have said on a napkin, under a flickering street lamp. All words to describe a tragic kingdom.
I am not thinking, just humming to myself. The perfect blues are always sung by one voice.
Jazz is a continuing revelation. The best show I ever attended was the
Roots Picnic at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia, or was it Robert
Glasper's Experiment at Lincoln Center, or was it Chick Corea with
Brian Blade at Oberlin College? Most of all I enjoy playing guitar and
composing beats with my Brooklyn-based group Space Captain.