A Jazz Performance

This article was written on 14th April, 2014 after the mesmerizing SPIC MACAY event hosted at Miranda House, University of Delhi.

The fingers ran, the breath ran out..Lips pressed tight onto the hard metal tube. The hands clutched the sticks hard and struck with a boom on the tight skin of the drum. 

A perfect extravaganza of strength of a man’s muscles, an economic use of the air in the lungs, and the perfect way to touch the tight strings, as if running across the smooth skin of a feminine froth. That was the perfect three combo of musicians.
         The lights shone bright on their faces, sweat on cheeks and forehead sparkled. The odor of the sweat mingled with the arrogance of the stinking brass-the saxophone, the fragrance of the dry wood-the flute, the pungent fuzzy smell of the empty drum and the sultry audience, even on a spring morning. A jazz performance, by Arild Anderson, Tommy Smith and Paolo Vinaccia.

          Now was the time to head for a bash of the drum, the strains on the strings , the blow on the saxophone. The audience waited, few held their breath back, few didn’t care, few fidgety with the ‘Golden Trash Technology’ called ‘Mobile Phones’, and few engrossed in gossiping. And then, awestruck, the hall gave out a werewolf bay- ‘AWWOOOOOOOOO’..’AWWOOOOOOOO’, followed by the perfect succession of the air-pipe, which ushered upon the hall a scene of the forest. Music and picture seemed to blend at a precise junction. And then the strings gave out their buzz and suddenly a hard brush sprang across the plate- a stick struck another and that was from Paolo Vinaccia at the drums- a man, knowledgeable enough how to use the power of muscles on the hard drums that lay before him. They played ‘The Dream Horse’.
The music galloped all through..a wild white horse let free through the woods, showing in every move, the strength, power, the endurance, the virility, and the sexual prowess.
It was a day. It really was a day. Anxiety, put aside, peace entangled all worries.