The jazz band transformed the narrow, ceramic-tiled club
They rearranged the ratio of people to sound to dark woodwork
The club’s architecture became the chord structures’ foundation to melody
The harmonic structure transported solos all the way up to the ceiling, blew the roof off
And into the sky, out to the streets, I imagined
I didn’t understand the people jabbering and blabbering through it
I stood rapt in the packed club, transported, transformed
Maybe the people had heard them before
(The trumpet was a fixture in town)
In the intense content, I, even I, was content after the two hours.
I noted that any given musician only,
Playing measures measured over time,
Time after time, would finally time out.
Variety shows the composition of the universe
Different faces, voices, combos, intonations
Render exquisite the transportation, the transformation
Of the architecture of a club’s tone, music and staff, vibe and patron
The very foundations—flying and buttressing the harmonic structure
Of one memorable evening
David Fekete 