Brass and Bourbon

The Jazz Tones

I’m struggling to visually cut the clouds in a shotgun style lounge. Three crushed velvet smoker jackets stand atop four poorly carpeted pallets in the bars deepest corner pocket. One hand reaches towards an Old Fashioned in an effort to obtain its last ounce of nerve dulling courage. The sheen of his guitar’s pickup illuminates a dimly lit audience. The luster of the sax’s brass shines penetrably, as much now in limbo as it will when wailing and speaking its raucous tongue. The humble drummer will paint syncopation with tattered brushes on translucent skins.

As the artists prepare themselves, patrons sit patiently while taking genuine interest into each other’s lives. The self-disclosing conversation is progressively therapeutic. More often than not, hardships and mundane workweeks find their way into the common playground adults tend to frequent. Such counseling acts in accordance with the thematic approach taken by the ensuing jazz trio.   

Without forewarning, a saxophones’ screaming introduction halts the crowded and noisy room to an abrupt silence. Every eye fixates on this lasting first impression. As the note descends, crashing alloy and electric coiled wire greet it in its depths with accompanying musicality. Three class acts embark on a quest for originality. Odd time signatures and obscure drum fills provide this autonomous ensemble with a meticulously crafted design. The sound is familiar as it incorporates past progressions that stick better than cereal jingles in the back of our minds.  It takes these familiarities and it augments them into its own vernacular. It accumulates personal passions from each artist’s skilled hands and it wears their emotions on its sleeve.

The soothing sounds of jazz music mixed with the coolest cats in nightlife make holes in the wall feel like home.