Soundwaves approaching, rapid fire staccato, Jazz, Soul, Blues surrounding the even keeled silence. Keys: black and white edging their way into a vision. Fingers just above, ready to pounce. Shiny brass gleaming in the foreground. Stage small, crowded with musicians. Hum of the crowd tickling the senses. It is a mirage of semblance. A wisp of ethereal ambiance- just before the reality of desks and hallways creeps in.
The mirage lingers. Smokey room, lights dim. It freezes for just an instant- teasing. Then the din of soft, eager voices, relax and the rat tat tat of the snare, taps to life. The jarring bell, echoes- replacing the smooth, chaotic notes of the performance. The noise jostles the wisp into a swirl, that slowly dissipates. The room brightens, the smoke clears and fluorescent lights blink on- pupils shrinking to adjust. Menu board becomes black board. The tables transform into desks.
Sonic sound waves of hustle and pivot reach every corner. Stage becomes classroom. The crowd, students. Each opening a case, removing an instrument. Tuning. Settling. Then tap tap....a count down and a semblance slowly arrives- wood, brass, percussion balance as they always have. The Jazz is effortless. Collision of sonic inertia- morning dreary meets anticipation. It is a moment that happens every morning as busses arrive and hallways empty.
The inertia of sleep and breakfast heavy. But familiar routines and faces clear the smoky haze of transition. Microphones scattered, instruments singing the sweet energetic song of learning. Our fingers just above the keys: black and white, edged now into a clear vision. We position them, we press, we add to the beauty of the piece. This sonic inertia, this classroom assemblage of grace and energy. It is inevitable- all we have to do is envision it.
And get out of the way...
No comments:
Post a Comment