Chris Robinson @crmusicwriter

mostly music, sometimes books


Back from Finals Week and the Holiday Break with a new Poem

Howdy folks, been a while.  Had to put a temporary moratorium on posts to get through the end of the semester, to recover from the semester, and to hang out with the family.  What follows was hastily written on a long descent into the Denver airport a few days ago and was inspired by a conversation with two of my favorite jazzheads: P Will and DJ Malomar.  This poem in part also takes its inspiration from one of my favorite adjectives to positively describe a jazz performance.  Without further adieu….


kills, killer, killing, it kills, it’s killer, it’s killing, he killed it, it’s killer, it’s killing, he kills, he killed, slays, slayed, killed…with his axe, the solo killed, the band killed, they really killed it, he killed too, with his axe, straight-up killed, absolutely killed it tonight, “yeah –    man, you killed it tonight, you were killing, the band was smoking, the solos, the rhythm section, everything, just killing.”  this record kills, the tunes, charts, all killing, abso-fucking-lutely killing, it will slay fools, get this killing album, record, wax, disc, whatever – cause it kills, dude is a bad bad man, with that axe. Gene Ammons “would hand you your fuckin’ head in a bag,” Joel Dorn said, Jug’d kill you with his axe, cut your head off.*  that head is killer, have to spend time in the woodshed with your axe to kill that head like that, “yeah, man, you killed it tonight,” “yeah man, that was killing,”  killer, killed, kill


*Dorn continues: Ammons would “play ‘Cherokee’ in a key that didn’t exist, at a tempo Jesse Owens couldn’t catch.  Guys would blow all they knew in a half a chorus, and their fingers would start bumpin’ into each other.  Joshua Redman is a good musician.  He took four or five choruses.  Then, in true Chicago tradition Eddie [Harris] blew everything Redman played in his first chorus.  Then he played with his feet…his ear..he blew that joint apart.  He handed the kid his head but not in a bad way.”  Wax Poetics, No. 27, 86.

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