It's been a strange and intense week. I've dealt with angry and irrational people on my day job, worked obsessively to get my new website up, practiced the saxophone and clarinet with satisfaction and frustration, and presented a new band.
The debut of the new Jeff Crompton Quartet at Atlanta's Eyedrum Gallery tonight was sloppy and intense, and the audience seemed to enjoy it. The band was exhausted afterwards, which I take as a good sign. I think we certainly have potential. We play the kind of free jazz that relies on listening, interaction, and instinct, and we're just going to have to play together for awhile before things really start to jell. The musicians in the audience tonight didn't hear all the mistakes that we felt and heard, so I think the spirit of the music prevailed over the sloppiness. Thank you Keith, Bill and Ben.
Now I'm trying to come down with Steve Lacy. The last tune on the Live in Budapest duet album with Steve Potts is "Morning Joy," based on the Bob Kaufman poem of the same name. It's a strange and wonderful poem, which I memorized about 15
years ago. Here it is from memory - the line breaks and punctuation might not be quite right, but I've got the words:
Piano buttons stitched on morning lights;
Jazz wakes with the day.
As I awaken with jazz,
Love lit the night.
Eyes appear and disappear
To lead me once more
To a green moon.
Streets paved with opal sadness
Lead me counterclockwise
To pockets of joy