The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

The Art of Jazz #89

New Orleans Jazz Festival
(Turk Murphy)
(Columbia Records; 1956)


Mac said...

The white girls lose they mind for a banjo & trombone, don't they?

Joe Thompson said...

A lot of people had fun when Turk's bank played at Earthquake Mcgoon's and other places. Good call changing his name from Melvin.

Joe Thompson ;0)

Donna said...

My upstairs neighbor used to sing with Turk at Earthquake Mcgoon's. She still sings a few gigs a year.