life, death, and the soprano saxophone

i love my car

every now and then, when i wake up, a new song will be playing. this morning i awoke to a stout, solid trumpet riff over steady drums, rhythmic guitar, and bass. without the background, of course, the trumpet would be meaningless but it's what stands out in my mind still. that riff - a theme, a thought - would stay with me all morning, although i wouldn't remember exactly where it came from. until we were loading the car, i remembered the rest of the song. hadn't listened to it in quite a while though; no idea why it lodged itself between my ears this morning. the rest of the song, so i thought, wasn't as important as this perfect little theme. i was wrong.

the first time i listened to it, later this afternoon, was pleasant as ever, but i realized i had misjudged this certain track earlier on. the horn introduction doesn't fade, but respectfully gives way to the verse and chorus. it does this quite a bit, changing around, but never with a slippery fade, always formally.

wish i could say the same for you, a day will come soon when i'll look in your eyes but i won't see you...

this comes to a conclusion after a bit and the entire piece breaks into what i can only imagine is an orchestra pit of new orleans jazz tools. the trumpet returns with variations on his theme, a rickety ukelele replaces the guitar, the bass syncs with a tuba and slide trombone, the drums still tick away a simple solid line while, seemingly from the ashes, arises the soprano. it sits just to the right of the trumpet, just beyond it in the breakdown. not an afterthought, persay, but a marriage made in the deep south; the conservative, staccato'd, pure horn with the swinging soprano accompaniment. whenever i hear the song, i always picture the soprano as wearing a blue dress and headband with long blue ribbons blowing in the wind as she wallows around the scales, almost drunkenly.

this, of course lasts only the length of a verse or so and follows the progression established beforehand before closing - though not as completely - as the chord steps up and the chorus is repeated. it is the ending, though, that is most special.

the first time, i was floored by the sheer parade joy of the finale, and decided to listen to the entire thing again. i thought i might read a little while most of the song played, just focusing a little bit, just catching it all one more time. after it was over, i realized i had read one paragraph and spent the rest of the time with my eyes closed. when it reached the close, the second time, though i new it was coming, the soprano nearly killed me. i never see it coming, with music like this. i spend nearly all the second song thinking of ways to record this myself, learning the instruments, laying down the beats, the tired but swinging vocals.

when the soprano fell from the sky, a split-second behind the trumpet, my nose began to burn. my ears burned too, and my mouth stayed decidedly shut and tight while a thin, wry little grin curled around the corners of my lips. a small ocean of tears pooled behind my eyelids before, refused escape, retreated back to wherever they came from. you see, i am in love with that soprano; that floozy swinging twenties lady singing through the elegant woodwind. it's a happiness i can't find all the time, one that comes only with the joy of music, celebratory music. as that trumpet and soprano faded out, dancing together, i couldn't breathe.

...

later on tonight i stood outside with my mother and recounted to her the difficulties of living inside my head. my new productivity complex, the difficulties of being creative, living and having lived. what i wanted to do with my life and why the two main sides of me can never comprise a whole person. frustrations with school and with risking lifestyle for the arts. i think i am going to see a counselor about all this. i am tired of hearing how success in life is dictated by how much money you make; and am i really being selfish by not moving to africa?

i choked up telling her about my prayers. every night i pray. i say a little prayer and often, then, i remember the last night i prayed. in thie middle of this prayer i see another day has passed. some nights i just see a long string of prayers and passing days and it seems like they go by so fast. it feels like my life is slipping away. by the end i could hardly speak; i think i was about to cry.