A JAZZ KINDA STORY OR ARTICLE

UNDER A DOSE OF OXYGEN-

IN THE EYE OF THE HURRICANE (THERE IS NO SOUND)

   When listening to Miles Davis and John Coltrane, together of course in the famous quintet of the fifties, one has to reminisce to what feeling is freedom.  One has to understand the consequences of listening or hearing.  The innocent ear in jazz is quite a thing.  The amateur in all terms of music quite a decorative thing too?  The pro is at art in highest sense of listening, composing, performing and writing as it to only on this earth we still have.

   Track by track in this CD and multimedia generation at the quad core computers and digital underware that cajoles the ear, we are at our best listening to flies; forget the aesthetics for one second and enjoy the putrefaction, as they say.  No, there is no contradiction or syncopated thought, not tipsy also as the envious scratch their private parts, at, is all, part of a style in jazz or jazz writing, blues, rock, -and creativity is general in particulates for those who aspire to science in these matters - Miles spoke what was not there, search it he said, not what you expect is there in the limelight of senses.  He spoke a round sound he said with his horn, as was all part of all that pause during the bass solos, when an angry tenor like Coltrane, a peaceful man by the way, one understands atemporality, nuance of phrase, a heart beat reasoning and respiration as a note of origin.

   "STRAIGHT no CHASER" or "DEAR OL´ STOCKHOLM" (jazz standards), immediate and everlasting masterpieces can induc culture in a child even unborn in the mother´s womb, or a relief of stress, as we know it, or come to know it by it´s unknown cure it´s own last name of a third millenium virtual digital disease.

Vivaldi, and his violin and cembalo concertos could never have imagined what Miles would be doing with Coltrane when hips began to rock ´n roll worldwide.  Antonio Vivaldi the italian composer of the Four Seasons or La Inquietudine for classical violin master in the fifties Nathan Milstein, like Beethoven, Bhrahms and Bach, and or course Mozart, had the prime intention -even if you call author´s intention a fallacy-the mentioning of it-what Federic Chopin did with his Polonaise and Mazurka and the jazz ballad as it obviouse sprung out of his nocturnes, and intimate preludes, just like cool-jazz has its development and its transcendence.

   One can not mistake that when a quaterback in american football send a long poetic and bowing pass to his favourite receiver, the onscream has too a receptor, the human conscience and the soul in each of us, that has proven to perdure and will not peril like a tear of blues.