LOVE SUPREME
That long-held sax note- divine
Makes my soul jus drift away
The smoke, the booze, the horse,
The girls. Sum o'them, thin agen.
Man, the flash of the crack o'th drum
The thumpity, thumpity, thump.
He jus stand there in a haze
John's soprano sax, Miles' trumpet
Blowin the blues. All the way To Missisip
All the way to me cryin in a ditch.
Those weary, weary blues. No shufflin shoes
No dancin close, just a ghost, followin you.
Langston Hughes. The poet o'the blues.
Droning a lousy syncopated line
In my arm as I rock real slow
Blues go down low. In you halls
In you fussy. A low-down southern moon
Plantation lan'. Guitars tune sweet
Every note spark jus right on this dark
Hot southern night. When we hear the negroes play
And we stay, for...all our lives.
raypool
Thu 31st Oct 2019 13:09
There's a lot of skill in the words John for authenticity. You capture the flavour of New Orleans and the blues and there's a rawness in the music and the celebration of it that is spontaneous - the polar opposite of today's offerings in most cases. Go back to impoverishment for the genuine music of the heart. My favourite go to video is the Buona Vista club. Impeccable playing and sheer artistry. Is it still ok to use the word "negroes" by the way?
I'll get my coat.