Jazz

I switched from Hawaiian Radio to Jazz station, cause I am in a Jazz mode. Jazz suits New York, especially in a foggy drizzling or snowy night. Like the blurry silhouette of Empire State building enveloped in mist and fog, a middle aged lady with a fur coat walking on Park Avenue, a gentleman with a trench coat and hat catching a cab, the streets in Soho after tourists’ depature, young lady with a book at a corner of a cafe, Jazz goes with any nothing-special scenes in the city. Jazz is kinds of music, which you could not only really listen to at a club , but you could also use as background music without being distracted. Not condescending like some music with lots of messages. Not dramatic like classic or opera. Yet it speaks sadness, excitement, sensuality, romance, regret, memoir, happiness, hope, and dream. It touches one’s heart. Each instrument plays off freely or almost selfishly and sometimes the beat and rhythm could be out of proportion, yet that is the point of Jazz. That’s where I am loving. REAL and LIFE. It creates an unexpected story. This “improvisation” factor is like when you miss a train and in the next one you wind up seeing somebody whom you lost in touch but just thought about. In fact, Jazz is New York. Every step, rhythm, and beat of each on the streets in Manhattan is improvised every day, producing the power of humans. Even if you feel being left behind the world or out of the circuit like me now, you ARE part of it like Jazz. I stumble or slow down or pace up and becomes disrupting. As the whole in an orchestra, yet, I might be also contributing some spices to the power of the city, an Improvisational land of music in full swing. Oh, I am back finally?