an old writer and his words

  • FLUTING

    She says that since the cochlear implantall she hears is battling flutists, and she adds“you know how I hate the flute.”I remind her that she did love Paul Hornbut she retorts “only in small doses.’A friend says it could be worse, it couldbe battling harpists but she wouldgladly trade her flutes for harps.I want to…

    Lou Faber

  • BUENOS AIRES ON THE GENESEE

    If this were Buenos Aires, if I were Borges, it would all make a great deal of sense. A man, older, and older still if you look closely, walks into an elegant hotel bar. A jazz quintet is playing, straight up, trumpet, piano, guitar, stand up bass, drum kit. The older man is wearing white…

    Lou Faber

  • TRIO

    I always wondered if the pianisthunched over his keyboard in the frontof the small club, reinventing a melodywe all thought we knew, the bassistsharing the stage providing support,stopped to note the lyrics offered upby the people in the audience as hecontinued to play, and if so, did henote them for future referenceor did he simply…

    Lou Faber

  • PLAYIN’ WHAT’S NOT THERE

    Some say Miles said it’s the space between the notes –that’s where the music is.We heard him, we smiled,we anticipated the nextnote and the next.Outside my windowa blue jayrecites his morning prayer,the child’s laughbreaks the frozen skyand shivers the maple.Then all is silence –even the windholds its breathnot in anticipationbut to create the voidthat nature…

    Lou Faber

  • SIMPLY MAGIC

    The magic of jazzis not what you think –there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.

    Lou Faber

  • ALL THAT JAZZ

    The magic of jazzis not what you think,there is nothing randomeven in the wildest, inthe acidest of solos. Cacophony is randomnessand the key to jazzis to see theinvisible logic,read the mind,be the mindof the musician. It is zen, but onlyif you stop searchingand just be in itsmoment.

    Lou Faber

  • LIONEL HAMPTON AND THE GOLDEN MEN OF JAZZ

    Blue Note, pardonour constructionblack paintedplasterboarda hangingair conditioning duct. Grady Tatesneering at the skinsgrowling at a high hathands shiftingdeftly reaching inpicking a beatand sliding itover the crowd. Jimmy Woodeblind to the lightsslides his fingersover stringsand talks to the bassresting on his shoulder.It sings backbegging , pleadingdemanding as his headsways with an inner vision. Junior Mancesways slowly…

    Lou Faber

  • SEIGAN’S COST OF RICE

    You may wander endlessly in search of the true dharma. It is not under that rock, not in those bushes, not around the next bend. Look down and ask yourself where are you standing in this moment, then gently lift  your feet off of the heart of the dharma A reflection on case 5 of…

    Lou Faber

  • IN CHORUS

    Deep in a small forest,a murmuring brook reflectsthe shards of sun slidingthrough the crown of pines,its whispered wisdominfinitely more clearthan the babbling of menholding the reins firmlyin distant cities of power. The birds know this well,sing of it in chorus, nature’smusic, jazz scatting thatthe graying clouds absorb,an always willing audience,and the wind rushing bycries through…

    Lou Faber

  • PERCUSSION

    After years of going to live jazzI’ve honed my skills to a fine level.I still know next to nothingabout the intricacies of the music,five years of classical piano andI barely understand Bach and Mozart. But I know where to look, whobears watching in the combo,and it isn’t the trumpeter, hewith his ballooning cheeks, someclownish bellows,…

    Lou Faber