Bluesday, May 15: Coltrane

12 minutes til it's not Bluesday anymore

Moody AF

listen to this

10 seconds til the end

he really meant it man

imagine having that kinda ear

well i mean many people do, i envy them

envy? praise, maybe

so swaggy

he's the King of Swag

i am a peasant worshipping at his feet

at this point he'd already gone deep into his shit

man i seriously think if he stayed alive just a biiiiit longer

he wouldda had a real, real impact on how music is heard

like he would rival any fucking white dude in europe

he'd win

maybe it's just because we have more access to their brains

their brilliance

but this is like, the prologue

the prepared epitaph 

and then poof, just like that,

he's gone.

i'm very appreciative of the fact that his legend lives on.

i mean when you think about the jazz greats

like the real OG jazz greats, like

when you feel it real deep in there

into your soul

he's on a lover's like top 5, at least

the way that he can maneuver, kinda like

like a warm dry 

previously damp spring-

summer night, weaving through the

traffic

left and right and up and down

no holes in that pocket

all the great ones die too soon.

perhaps it's a chunk of why they're great.

but longevity is something you cannot fake.

some Saturday nights

Don't get me wrong, I like the people here. But some Saturday nights you're missing home real hard and you just gotta yell at the dumbass drunk college kids as they jaywalk in black costumes in the darkness across Commonwealth Ave. on a red light. Sometimes you value your alone time to contemplate why you feel alone when you're far from it. Altered substitutions. The function is the same but this time around, it just sounds different. It just feels different. Sometimes you just gotta stay in on a Saturday night, take off that mask, and learn about Coltrane Changes again.

Harder = a terrible safeword

you're depressed because you compare yourself to john coltrane
but when did you stop thinking you could be like john coltrane?

here's a little lesson in hard bop:
they didn't call it hard bop because it was harder than be-bop
they called it hard bop because everyone shot a bunch of dope
it was the 1950's
all them cats
art blakey
paul chambers
miles and coltrane
lee morgan, dude who blew trumpet on this track
he played an angled horn on the record
given to him by dizzy
another heroin addict
i mean, what better way to put funk into jazz
other than being inside the jazz?
anyway, lee morgan died too young
his woman took a glock and shot him up on stage
i guess she lived in the music, too

i wonder what he could have possibly done
to have his woman kill him like that.
is it even possible
to separate the murder from the music?