More in the Jazz Vein

I don't know if it's all the stormy weather, but it seems to suit my mood these days. 

This one I wrote listening to "Lady In Blue" off of Tori Amos's New Album, Abnormally Attracted to Sin.  It's not a bad record. Better, in my opinion, than her last two, as a whole (although if I had my way as an editor I would cut all three to pieces, leave out all the fluff and crap [Tori Amos I will never forgive you or your producers for the abomination that is Posse Bonus. For Shame, Madam.] and make the one bangin', award winning album that exists now in brief diamonds amongst the detritus.) 

Anyway, one such diamond is "Lady In Blue," a haunting torch piece with a surprising (and refreshing) guitar solo that makes up the last 2 minutes of the 7+ minute song. It makes me think of sad old Movie Stars, back when they were Movie Stars and not Celebrities. Some Leggy Dame in Tights from a Noir Picture with a Sinatra soundtrack. 

On a rainy day, with a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, I got this little poem lodged in between my ears and head. Enjoy.

It Girl

Glitter Eyes,

with your head on the table

empty bottle still in your hand.

Don't you know

there's no savior to wait for

only Alexander's Band

playing 'Song d'Automne' 

as the ship sinks down,

playing as the waves come up

to swallow you

in the frozen blue.

They put words

in your mouth like pills.

Don't I know how it goes? 

Yes, I know.

Champagne kisses, 

rings on every finger till

you can't play piano anymore.

And you did it all for love,

a million eyes in the dark.

Did you think there were no consequences for

turning a spotlight

into a star?

Glitter Eyes,

you burn too bright.

Your cigarette tip

is crumbling now,

and when they smoke you down 

to the filter,

toss you into

the rain-choked gutter,

at last 

at least I think 

we all will remember

your face

under water

as you drown.

The 23rd Street Cafe

Although I haven't been to the jazz club in a while, I was thinkin' about it the other day while cleanin' the house...

1. The Big Top

Trumpets stretch long notes

in the blue light. 

Blue smoke 

tears apart as it lifts.

Shadows drape against sound.

In these wires her song hovers.

Conversation suspends 

as she sings.

The slow notes fall up, 

balanced on the pull 

of martinis 

on our senses.

Straining apart, 

we hold our breaths 

to hear the precise spin 

of elevation;

the sequined wink

of the catch in her voice

before the rising refrain.

Smoke and held breaths

are not a net.

Her voice does not fall. 

Torch singer.

Not because

of the smoky burn 

of her songs;

the fire they build 

within 

the frame of our ribs.

It is the weight 

of her brightness,

how it carries

over distance.

2. The Haunted Attic

There are ghosts here;

the world is doubled.

One

stands behind me,

filling the same space

as your right arm

spread across my shoulders.

Another 

in a bowler hat

sprawls sideways

in the lap of our friend

and occasionally sips

his whiskey.

The bar is draped

with ghost women draped

in ghost feathers.

The rising smoke defines them.

Blue light fills their eyes

and the murmur of their laughter bubbles 

under the echoed notes

of a ghost piano and a ghost trombone.

What haunts me 

is the smokey thought 

that one day

I will grace the bar

in dead feathers.

You will disturb the lap

of a teenaged clarinet player

perched on a table's edge,

waiting to play.

Your smile flickers across his face.

With a sudden jerk he spills his gin

and thinks 

it is just nerves.

3. The Cathedral

I could go blind here.

What would it matter?

Bright green bursts

in my mouth: 

gin-soaked olives.

Conversations stained

with sophistication:

lipstick red.

The violet scent of smoke,

pink perfumes,

the orange flick of matches.

This light,

stained glass blue bouncing 

off the amber of the ashtrays,

and halcyon trumpets

in every phrase

she lifts, carries,

and turns.

When I close my eyes

I hear her bending light.

I bow my head and clasp my hands.

I bow my head and give thanks.

In this place,

it doesn’t matter if you are blind.