Last night I went to a little jazz club with 'The Sam,' her man, her foreign couch-crasher, her friend Jacob and Mr. A. It was a cramped, noisy, well-worn bar and it was awesome. My favorite thing about musicians is watching how they play.
The drummer moved stiff and erratically, like a zombie.
The bassist moved his head, and his eyes fluttered with every finger stroke. My guess is by he end of a show he has a very stiff neck and a headache.
The trumpeter was long and lean like his trumpet, and he moved jut as fluidly and he played.
The guy with the sax looked like such a beatnik. He was a tall broad guy who slowly shank as he used his breath.
They were ridiculously good.
November 12, 2006
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2 comments:
I heart you.
D.G. stands for none other than Daniel Grant. He was a major source of teenage angst for me.
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