Jazz...

There's something about the way the sound of Jazz floats through the air like a sweet scent. Sometimes it's like you hear a big band or a trumpet solo and you can see the notes in living color. A violet guitar solo, and a midnight blue base serenade, or the yellow ting of a snare rumble. Have you ever been overwhelmed with the warmth of a saxophone or felt your heart thump right along with the drum. And even without lyrics the emotion of jazz is clear to the musician. Only the composer can put a perfect title to his/her piece. Only Grover Washington could name that relaxing sound on his album Strawberry Moon, because thats what it sounded like to him. That sensation of "awww" is called inspiration.


And those songs blessed with lyrics are heart felt and pure. So relatable to its listeners. They sing of desired love, lost love, failed love, hard times, and fun times. How many ways can you talk about love? Peggy Lee describes her lover as her thrill. Dinah Washington begs her love to "Make me a present of you" "What good is a gal with a million? What good if the world calls you queen. If you dont have someone to love you, you don't have a doggone thing." Who doesn't want to be loved? Jazz embodies love in all of its facets. The good bad and ugly. The gut wrenching, and desperation of reciprocated emotion. And a Miss Etta James said it best when she declared she wants a "Sunday Kind of Love"

I want a Sunday kind of love
A love to last past Saturday night
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight
And I want a Sunday kind of love
I want a a love that's on the square
Can't seem to find somebody
Someone to care
And I'm on a lonely road that leads to no where
I need a Sunday kind of love
I do my Sunday dreaming, Oh yea
And all my Sunday scheming
Every minute, every hour, every day
Oh I'm hoping to discover
A certain kind of lover
Who will show me the way...."

Me too....