Listening to the jazz
The Summertime piano
Playing on my old favorite
CD. One I have, and maybe a couple thousand others
Do too.
A base, swinging notes.
Those old familiar notes.
Nothing captures my soul
Like the soft melody of a Jazz note.
Not ostentatious.
Different and unorthodox.
Reserved, but youthful.
Jazz shouldn’t break out
Into raucous.
It should border
A reservation
And outright freedom.
It should be there in the middle
Conservative, not following the melodic theories
Or ideas or notions.
It should be there,
Not ready to let loose
Nor sitting on its front porch.
That is Jazz, and swing.
It just sits in a place only the great Jazz musicians can.
It doesn’t make itself the star.
It rather is a corporate thing
Where everyone in the big bands are one harmonious
Cacophonous melody.
The singer is only a star
But the Trumpet Player and Pianist get their dues
And the people know them, too.
Rock tried to carry on this tradition.
But it couldn’t. It went too far into the rebellion.
Jazz doesn’t rebel.
It stands for freedom, but it does not have a rebellious spirit.
It, rather, takes all its freedom is worth
And does what it will
Going wherever the whim will take it
Not following any rule
Or guideline.
It stays where it is
Content to just stay there
To bridge some line
Between youth and wisdom.
It is wisdom. It is youth.
An often rare pairing.
B. K. Neifert 