Kurt Rosenwinkel’s dream: The Voodoo Priest It’s the city at night and I’m in a limo. It pulls up to a banquet hotel, where all these other limos are arriving. I get out, and everyone—the super rich, the super famous, the super celebrities—is going to a gala dinner. And I’m thinking that this is such rich bullshit. Inside I hear something. It’s Bobby Hutcherson playing the vibraphone down a small flight of stairs. Oh man, I thought, This is great. My attention was drawn away from the dinner. Then I see a pygmy dude, and he’s holding vibraphone mallets, too. But he’s playing in the air, and he starts edging Bobby off the vibraphone. The pygmy is striking the mallets in the air, but the vibraphone is still playing. He works the music up in a crescendo until it’s a feverish pitch and then bang! A shot of flames flies out of his chest and catches the banister on fire. Holy shit! And I’m the only one who notices it. I get up and go toward the bathroom, which is down a hallway. On my right, there’s a room that is like a dark, dilapidated New Orleans bedroom with a jet-black, bare-chested voodoo priest in a bed. He has a candle on his chest. I keep walking toward the bathroom. I walk back and look in, and he motions for me to come into the room. I kneel down next to the bed. He says, “Come here, I want to tell you something,” then continues, “What you saw when the flames were shooting out and catching the banister on fire—that’s not the hard part. THE HARD PART IS INCREASING YOUR ENERGY LITTLE BY LITTLE EVERY DAY, SO THAT IN THE END THINGS LIKE THAT ARE INEVITABLE AND JUST HAPPEN. Now, that’s the hard part.” [Downbeat, July 2013]
Posted on: Wed, 01 Oct 2014 17:17:58 +0000
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