If you're familiar with All About Jazz, you know that we've dedicated over two decades to supporting jazz as an art form, and more importantly, the creative musicians who make it. Our enduring commitment has made All About Jazz one of the most culturally important websites of its kind in the world reaching hundreds of thousands of readers every month. However, to expand our offerings and develop new means to foster jazz discovery we need your help.
You can become a sustaining member for a modest $20 and in return, we'll immediately hide those pesky Google ads PLUS deliver exclusive content and provide access to future articles for a full year! This combination will not only improve your AAJ experience, it will allow us to continue to rigorously build on the great work we first started in 1995. Read on to view our project ideas...
Minute butterflies dance phosphorescently around the light sources accompanied by a tensioned sound halo. As a curtain of sound rises from blue labyrinth of branches, each light is enveloped in an aura of insects that move like scattered silvery petals carried by gentle gusts of air. The sounds reach the grave register in a primal drone that leads deep into the folds of consciousness.
The grave accents become dominant chords which pour into a polyphonic conglomerate that contain the original pulsation, the font of the dream. The sounds become clear and float in intricate modes towards the tree heads, followed by the rush on the cymbals and the airy breeze of wind chimes.
Deep chords return to the earth and rise with the wind like the breaths of a huge organ engulfing the sampled forest sounds in a grave mixture of electronic distortions that generate a state of trance. Along the way we are accompanied by the whistle of a flute, the cry of a bird. Rarefied frazzles of trumpet sound emerge from the dark like secret calls, isolated tone whiffs subside to the light that announces the last station of the surreal passage.
In "The Clearing," the light is concentrated on a point that contains the whole universe; it absorbs the viewer with the fascination of a new world, which recreates itself in other light-worldscreating, at their turn, new universes. The rich orchestration recedes into a recurrent cacophony of instrumental voices, a song, a chirp, a buzza sound that contains the mystery of the woods, the secret of a summer dream. In a calm, diminishing stance, the dream returns gradually to reality on a large alley, leading to a white castle in a German forest at night, leaving behind the last dream of May.