Stephen Vincent wrote:
> “Take it from there,” Miles implied, lowering his trumpet with
> one hand, though not fully tipping the gold glinted bell. Then he
> disappeared into the dark. It was as if his horn had pierced and ripped
> open the night, that he had illumined and carved shapes out of the
> darkness in such a way that the pianist, the drummer and bassist, left alone on the
> bandstand, one by one, solo by solo, could follow to rivet and
> variously embellish and color the language - the house - that Miles had
> temporarily built, indeed, one from which all of us in the audience
> could be with, take courage, and sequester some of that fierceness as
> our own. To see Miles Davis perform was to hear and see someone put the
> fire of a dragon into the sky. That was one winter night in 1968 at the
> Both/And, a now long gone jazz club on Divisadero Street, San Francisco.
>
> Stephen Vincent
> http://stephenvincent.net/blog/
>
>
One of the few successful descriptions I've read of a musician playing.
Capturing a sound is for me a monumental task.
ken
--
Ken Wolman http://awfulrowing.wordpress.com/ http://www.petsit.com/content317832.html
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"All writers are hunters, and parents are the most available prey."--Francine du Plessix Gray
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