I went to a show last night, after church and working out, to see my friend Chris play in his new band, Priss. He did an awesome job, and I feel like I should be writing this post in where the cat wanders but it was such a great experience (and I don't have a quality photo) that I feel this is the right place for it.
Set #1: Priss
"The next song is called: the skinny part of Idaho ... and in the notes it says, my girlfriend wants more bass."
A quartet lit only by colored lights swoons the dim and moving disco ball's tease as someone from the audience yells: "bring it up fat!" followed by a lone laugher. I feel as if we're on a great cruise, manifest: talent, will and strength. Cruising smoothly with determination across some vast lava bed. My ears are on fire, my face is starting to melt as they play. When jazz is played - when I experience it live, I feel love. Not in a Barry White way but a flower blooming way, so tender and free to be itself.
The bar itself is so great. It sits above railroad tracks. The pool table is messy. Chalk litters the tables. Candles, icons, mirrors and couches that eat you. There's no pure light anywhere but the candles. Ceiling fans are on high. This is what trouble looks like when the cat is let outta the bag! And the cat happens to be hip and jazzy.
Set #2: Priss is morphed into: Black light poster
I met with Chris and Haley a little before he had to go back on stage and play some more. The first set had music prepared, but this second set was more free, playing solid for an hour. I love to see an artist at work, and four of them at that. It is all such a freeing experience, and then I text my brother: dude, jazz is the shit.