Terri Lynn Bush-Krakar
Music
s the band comes on stage, the people quiet down to hear the rhythms and sound, of a universal language.
Nobody speaks because it is here where no language, but music language, is spoken. Jazz - hip hop to b-bop - blues, all coming together to make one cosmic pronunciation, of what life is, how it will be, how we live it, our past, present, future; all sung with-in the strings and brass; harmony with a little twist of funk; as notes fly from here and there, they make history flow from the player’s lips, the language that everyone speaks. The glorious fusion of notes and tone, that makes an overwhelming joy to one’s ear. Making love, passion, anger, sorrow; all hidden in-between the bars and inscriptions of a foreign writing. Music that moves your fingers, which then reach your feet, moving your head bouncing, then to your stomach, which then has nowhere else to go, but the booty, as it shakes the booty of one’s self into a should systematic behavior. A rhythm. A dance. They say people crying out hallelujah. Hallelujah! It is like something took a hold of them, shook the ground that they stood on, and BAM, life was not so sad anymore. A cure. A gift. A lesson. A revelation of a new nation. A soul creation this desegregation; which there is none. A solution to the pollution of races;
Music.
A common bond between all nations; a simple language taken to all levels of imagination and creation. Drums beating into the heart, putting soul into everyone, keeping time stand still. Saxes with their harmonic vocabulary telling everyone, aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, children, babies, moms, dads, brothers, sisters together; to make on whole universe collide.
Music.




   

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