The weather report called for a mix of sun and clouds.
The forecast read, partly sunny, partly cloudy, rain would change to sleet and snow. The temperature would rise to just below zero; a new all time high, as I lay sleeping, dreaming of electric jazz.
A purest said, “that ain’t jazz” as I wrestled him for the last copy of “Get Up With It” in a dilapidated record store. (This is the same guy from my baseball dreams. He hates the designated hitter.)
“This fusion is just the ******* child of rock & roll; a mere reaction to heavy electric guitars and synthetic synthesizers,” he shouts as I rip the record from his hands.
“This synthesis is more then just three cords strummed in a Capitol Records executives head,” I said. “This ******* brew, will return forever as long as I sing the body electric.”
I rolled over and pulled the blankets up to my ears as the clock radio played Red China Blues.
jbm
Oakland
11/26/98
Music Selection:
Miles Davis, Red China Blues