eighth improvisation
on time
i ought to have
written a sonnet
for dexter gordon
in black and violet
framed with ivy
a sonnet that praised his
low notes which sound
as if he is blowing
over empty beer bottles and i’ll
certainly do so one fine day
but right now i’m more
preoccupied with a small
oddity in his playing
i’m talking about the minimal
lag behind the beat
that is so character
istic for dexter gordon
the slight delay between
what he plays and
what he actually plays
the small rubato between
the seconds’ nicotine stains
that slight imprecision
that has caused
certain people to
assume that
dexter gordon
couldn’t keep
up and that he would
finally find himself
lacking a
number of
notes when the piece
had come to an end
that of course is not
the case – by means
of his technique dexter gordon
ends up rather playing more
than he actually
plays – he almost
manages to comment on his
own playing by means of
this tiny time-lag
to interpret not only
what he has played but
what he is playing right now
in reality it is the
very delay
between life and art that dexter
gordon is demonstrating and
who knows is maybe trying
to drown out with hisT
saxophone – in reality
dexter gordon is attempting
to hold life and art
together in one moment
do you get me? – dexter gordon
is extending the now in extremis
To see the whole collection, go to here
No comments:
Post a Comment