Jazz is that expressive art, so funny, and it puts you on the edge of your seat. It is a huge, toothy grin and a shout into the deep of the night. But jazz isn’t a haphazard semi-composite of notes. Jazz is color and jazz is timing. Reds and yellows shoot out the end of the trumpet into the still air, piercing and stabbing, but not a moment too soon. The black and white keys of the piano, tickled by the player, into laughing out loud and, at the same time, crying. Jazz is tortuous of the soul, in that it invites vulnerability. To truly enjoy jazz, and live jazz, not to mention play it, one must let the instrument SPEAK. Let the instrument CRY, MOAN, STUTTER; just bare your soul, because you know what? That is what an audience is looking for, a soul; just like their own. Jazz must be a universal.


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