he's lost in the form
furtive glances, panicked looks
oh shit, where's the bridge?
attention trombones
let's hear the ride one more time
i just love your sound
mix meters freely
throw in a sharp here and there
all the singers faint
faculty concert
claim ownership of bebop,
then play it poorly
conducting teacher
hypes perfunctory gestures
god bless your left hand
he may be god's son,
but I still won't play at church
unless you pay me
read in c, jerk-offs
a d is only an f
in saxophone land
the diminished scale
does not equate to hipness,
but sax men think so
a chorus consists
of new music detractors
the suburbs are worse
women flock to him
in spite of all the wrong notes
justice is deaf, too
musicologists
feign relevant ideas,
prefer fairy-tales
jazz is still the shit
without chord tones on strong beats
get a life jamey
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment