He is confident in every note
that slides from his lips to the brass.
He sinks into every breath
and emerges in power,
gliding from flats to sharps.
He waits in calm vibrato for the beat;
he follows in meticulously , playing his part
and yet asserting individuality.
Emotion and opinion drip from vibration.
Experience and knowing, age and wisdom,
perfection and skill, amassed into one singular assault of the eardrum.
He is seen in sound,
waves merged into the image of the man,
and he becomes the music.
Author notes
Wrote this on July 4, 2008 at 6:00pm during and after a listen to La Vie en Rose by Louis Armstrong.
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