By: Nancy Ibarra Medrano
The variation in performance and the expounded exposure left me convinced of the potential in the instrumentalists in this genre. There was growth in each combos presentation. Growth that I could see at both the individual and collective level.
The night featured different autonomies in the school of jazz. The final combo introduced their music as pieces that they had written themselves. The answer to my puzzled understanding of an artist composing and performing the music quickly dissolved when I related it to other mediums. For some reason the separation was so vast for instrumentalists constructing music in my perspective. Even though my awareness in other forms of production were savy enough. The instruments with one composer. The instruments in jazz.
I spent the evening listening to the music with a friend. She has a newfound passion for this music and live performance at a small scale. I’m familiar with the setting and constant in my general art knowledge. She told me she wouldn’t have felt as comfortable going to the show as she did with me. This was a night of our shared experience away from obligations and responsibilities. To delight in the jubilation and spontaneity of jazz music.
They wrote their own sounds.
The most pungent of expression.
Elusive words and undeclared meanings.
Freedom and spite in the fleetings.
That was a small poem.