Listen

Listen

Listen to the jazz. Jazz-jass-ja-ass — originally a euphemism for sexual intercourse, which is a euphemism for fucking, a non-violent act of non-verbal communication (and much more). It’s hard to get into. The jazz, I mean. It may first appear as a monolith sound, large and mysterious or meaningless. Or a maze where there is nowhere to start. Or nothing because a blank has been drawn. I offer two keys, not the two keys, simply two keys. To listen to the Jazz. The keys open doors, the rooms are spacious and contain myriad emotions, I go there often.

^ First key. Listen to the drummer. Heartbeat pump blood body in out slide glide tick on off crash pause crash pause crash. Pause. Turn the bass down and the treble up, adjust the channel the drum is on. Listen to Tony Williams, young drum artist readily available on many Miles Davis records. Listen to nothing buy Tony. Hear the beat implied and started, a brush on the cymbals, a stick on the snares, the names aren’t important. A whisper, a tint tint tint tint. Trust the drummer, he possesses and commands the beat you know so well and he will' show you that it has many shapes and properties. Listen to Elvin Jones on John Coltrane Live at Birdland (1963). Bashing it’s been called. Crashing bashing madman, mad with strength and purity of purpose. Listen to Billy Higgins on any Bluenote record. Continual momentum of beat like a man tripping down a steep path, pulled forward. Crack // Crack /// Crack Crack Crack /. If your heart beats you can dig the beat. Can feel it. If you can fuck you can dig the beat. And if you can dig the beat you can dig the jazz drummer. Explode your hump-one hump-two hump-three hump-four into a mosaic of hump. Of humphery. Humpness. I’m hump. You’ll go places. Trust the jazz idrummer.

Second key. Listen to everything. Most songs have two melodies, A-melody, B-melody. think of a song with 90 melodies. All composed spontaneously. Four people making up 90 different melodies simultaneous . Four people making up 90 different melodies simultaneously, 540 melodies altogether. Four layers of melody, four layers of hump, of beat. A jazz quartet. Buy Let Freedom Ring by Jackie McLean. Perfect example. Or any of the Coltrane Quartet records. (You have to go into stores and demand these records, tell ‘em to order them for you, tell them they should have more hump mystery records, but be nice about it.) In a good jazz group, each musician communicates, responds to each other as much as possible. Then the listener responds as much as possible as another communicant. Listen to everything, every single note played by every instrument. You can begin to feel when they come together, the vibes are good, and they’re all talking to each other, and when they fall apart, or lose someone, possibly you. In which case you go back and listen to the drummer. Don’t listen to anything you don’t like. In music.

Two keys, an infinite number of doors, two ears, spacious rooms, your head. Get it together.

Richard C. Walls