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Category: Music

POEM: grumpy

grumpy

because he’s done it all
seen what there was to see
reclines now in black pants
and a semi-formal sweater
talks in the general direction
of the microphone on the table
tells all the same stories again
tries not to sigh too loudly
at the half-his-age questioner

midway through he’s surprised
by an advertisement dragged
behind a barnstorming plane
out of place in this post-
industrial skyline
it’s the most animated moment
in the entire conversation

as the plane flies behind
a nearby building
he reclines again
waiting reluctantly for
the next question

30 September 2013
State College, PA

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POEM: big band

big band

he came out from behind
the bank of speakers
headed down the street

just as I caught sight of him
the trumpet soloist belted out
a high screaming note

the man’s head snapped back
as if he’d been struck
a smile took over his face

he kept walking but every
few steps he turned back
to look, still smiling

31 August 2013
Detroit, MI

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Alabama: space is the place

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Alabama: space is the place

saw a Saturn 1B rocket
towering over the trees
as I entered Alabama
not far from where
Sonny Blount was born

27 August 2013
Elkmont, AL

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POEM: I, Eye, Aye (for Rahsaan Roland Kirk)

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I, Eye, Aye
(for Rahsaan Roland Kirk
7 August 2013-5 December 1977)

I said I can’t see but I can see
not the way you see, not with my eyes
I see through the sounds from the crowd
the roar of voices flying toward me
like fighter jets screaming out of the sky
I see through the ends of my fingers
pressing the mother of pearl
stopping the air, letting it pass
I see through the crash of cymbals
the dry thump of bass strings
hammers pounding inside the piano
I see through the windows in my dreams
out of which come magic words of power
talismanic names to guide me forward
I see through the needle on wax
like a forest fire captured in a wine bottle
waiting for you to let it out

7 August 2013
Auburn AL

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The Jazz Session is back!

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We did it! Thank you all so much!

In particular, I’d like to thank Josh Rutner and Patrick McCurry for their help with the planning and execution of this Kickstarter campaign. It would not have happened without them.

The Jazz Session’s new season starts October 1, 2013.

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POEM: your voice makes me

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your voice makes me

let’s be real:
your voice makes me
want to write
love poems all day
and since that’s not
the most productive
use of my time
I think it’s best
I stop listening
I can stop any
time I want to
so I’m stopping

…as soon as this song
is finished

…or maybe the next one

20 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: this isn’t the first time

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this isn’t the first time
for John Coltrane

this isn’t the first time
I’ve tried to capture you
between the lines of a poem
as if any collection of letters
could do justice to the
staggering power of your art

this isn’t the first time
I’ve tried to describe how I felt
the first time I heard
“My Favorite Things”
and realized I’d just been shown
the door to a new universe

this isn’t the first time
I’ve wondered whether anyone
will ever burn again
with a fire as intense as yours
a fire so bright it was hard
to look upon or listen to

this isn’t the first time
I’ve wanted to say to someone
LISTEN TO THIS
CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT?
to watch their eyes as they
make first contact

this isn’t the first time
I’ve realized how much I owe you
how the course of my life changed
because of what you did
how you showed me a distant land
toward which I could point my little boat

17 July 2013
Auburn AL

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POEM: when our grandparents were young

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when our grandparents were young
(for T.B.)

everybody took ballroom dancing lessons
or learned to play the accordion
they kissed under lampposts on street corners
had midnight burgers and milkshakes
there was a Crystal Palace in most towns
the bands would fill it when they played there
somehow all the fedoras stayed on in the wind
and you could still be a sex symbol
even if you played the clarinet
I wouldn’t go back there permanently
but I sure would like to take a trip there with you
see if we can spot our grandparents dancing
then dance beside them, silently, knowing

11 June 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

That’s my grandpa in the center of the top row.

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POEM: listening to Leon Thomas

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listening to Leon Thomas

who yodels like Switzerland
is a planet orbiting a distant star
Leon its first astronaut

“every since the beginning of time
man has yearned to travel
to a distant land far away”

Leon is into some next-level shit
channeling the solar wind through
what must be a massive set of lungs

were we able to decode the waveform
of Leon’s voice, would it be a message
explaining to all of us how to travel
as one human race to the stars?

3 July 2013
Auburn, AL

/ / /

This poem was inspired by this performance.

Photo credit

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“He Sunday punched him with love…”

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Bobby Hutcherson on Eric Dolphy:

I’m rehearsing with Eric at his loft — myself, Tony Williams, Richard Davis and a trumpet player named Eddie Armour. We were rehearsing for about an hour and a half. It was a cold winter day. All of a sudden, right in the middle of the tune, the trumpet player, Eddie, starts cussing and packing up his horn. We get to the end of the tune and Eddie says to Eric, “You’re nasty.” And Eric was real sweet, just like Trane was you know, a real sweet cat. Eric said,” What?” Eddie says, “I don’t like you, I don’t like your music, and I’m not going to play this gig. I’m out of here. Fuck you. Fuck this band. That’s it. How do you like that?”

We’re all standing there thinking, “My God, how can this cat say this?” And he continues to put his horn away, clip the fasteners on his trumpet case. He grabs his coat, pulls his hat down and goes stomping to the door. He gets to the door, I mean, just yanks it open. The door hits the wall. Bam! He’s just about to go out the door.

Eric had just been sitting there with his head down. We’re all thinking, “Eric must feel horrible. What’s he going to do?” All of a sudden, Eric says, “Hey, Eddie.” Eddie turns around and says [in growling voice] “What?” Eric, with the most conviction and love, says, “If I can ever do anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll be there for you anytime.”

Whoa! And Eric was serious. With that, this cat really got upset, he slammed the door and stormed out. We just stood there all quiet. It was like he Sunday punched him with love. The lesson was, “Love conquers all,” you know? It’s like the devil couldn’t take that love, and this is what Eric was showing him. He went out that door with so much hate, but with a message that Eric still cared about him. This was one of the biggest lessons Eric showed me “that if you can forgive somebody right when they do the most horrible thing they can to you, you just immediately take the weight of what they did off your back and just make it this beautiful experience, so that you can go on and do the things you want to do during the day and not waste time with negative feelings and negative thoughts.”

Well, we sat there quiet for two or three minutes, didn’t say anything. Then we went on with rehearsal and we never played so hard in our lives. We were just overcome. Then Eric called Freddie Hubbard, and that’s when we did Out to Lunch.

/ / /

I saw this story on Facebook via Jason Parker, who was sharing something posted by Joe Giardullo.

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What’s the best album you’ve heard in the past few weeks? Any genre.

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I asked that question on Twitter and Facebook. Here are the answers folks gave me:

Please add your own favorites in the comments section. Thanks!

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POEM: in love in New York

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in love in New York

the hack’s medallion
caught in the streetlight

the chicken hanging
in the meat market window

thunder rushing
through the artificial valley

as we run from the subway steps
to the door of the 55 Bar

soaked by a spring rain
laughing the whole way

21 May 2013
Auburn, AL

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POEM: mangoes

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mangoes

he’d asked
she’d said no
so much of life
happened after
it should have
faded away
like the last note
of
but she stayed there
a little melody
always playing
in the back of his mind
during the quiet moments
the peaceful times
when he imagined
the future
her polyglot voice
filling their home
where the kitchen
smells like
mangoes

2013
Auburn AL

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