THE KING OF TIMES (for jazz-man John Coltrane) by Baba Sowande There is this place I call The Zone where Life is blown thru a saxophone. Where the stage is set and the lights are low, and Tranes in the middle of a bright solo. I feel his sound as it floods my being and readies me for what Im seeing thru his eyes-- nothing has changed: Life is still brimming with the pain and unpredictability hes known...Ive known it too; under the sun theres nothing new. Except tonight there is suspense in the melodies he plays against, in the harmonies that he compounds in ways that dazzled and astound me as he takes me up with him thru Time to a place sublime and sweet atop that beat from which he swings, and to which I cling-- holding my breath from note to note. He forces me from one remote place to the next. The basic text is jazz he uses to harass me out of false tranquility I learned to accept as Truth! My agitation is my proof that this, his song, is real: this testimony that I yield is what I feel. I breathe his vibe...the sound is sharp, exquisite, clean majestic, naked, and serene. A special wordless prose that flows and leaps and creeps into my soul and causes chaos peeling layers of dead emotion away to convey something thats hectic and electric and pulse-pounding while surrounding my brain with nothing thats petty or mundane. Contrary to present creed, this Medicine Man is one we need today tomorrow evermore. The modern lore is a testament to the Coltrane sound, a most profound and sacred thing. Long live the King!
Posted on: Tue, 24 Jun 2014 07:44:03 +0000
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