The funny thing about rivers is you can never step in the same river twice.

I have never cared for philosophy. Or at least philosophy for philosophy’s sake. And yet there is nothing I can compare Jazz more to than communal philosophy, and I love every minute of it.
Jazz flows from consciousness to consciousness, waxing, waning, and swelling with an internal emotion that most other genres rarely touch upon. Never have I heard a Jazz song performed the same way twice. Instead each performance, each session echoes in feelings that weren’t necessarily there the previous incarnation. Whether the musicians change internally, externally or the audience, setting or ambience change all influence the song. Influence the emotion. Like a cacophony of nature, singing a different tune every night, and yet always singing the same song.
Now don’t get me wrong. I’ve heard songs performed by many artists performed many ways. I’ve seen Tori Amos perform a song with aching loneliness one show, and heart pounding seduction the next. But only with Jazz is it so complete. So internal. So ingrained into the very being of the genre. Of the music. Of the passion.
Jazz flows like water through a never ending river. Ever changing, changed by both its surroundings and its own flowing nature. That is its beauty, and I’ll wade through this river for a little while.


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