Revival

 
There is a place where parched lips
kiss warped reeds and cramped fingers
stroke strings and keys
filling the air with melodies.
And resurrected rhapsodies
capture the cadence of ancient chants
where shackles are removed
and our ancestors dance
in anticipation of liberty
and every note that’s played
is dedicated to their memory.

There is a place where each heartache
and every sharp pain
can be smoothed and soothed
by a medicinal refrain
the story of King David makes it plain:

“And it came to pass,
when the evil spirit from God
was upon Saul that David took a harp,
and played with his hand:
so Saul was refreshed, and was well,
and the evil spirit departed from him.”

You see this divinely inspired requiem
came forth from a glorious past
and though it defies description
we choose to call it Jazz
and ever since this music
emerged from space and time
it has found a permanent residence
on 9 + 9 and Vine.
Someday soon you’ll travel there
to escape from emails,
cell phones and faxes,
from being overworked and underpaid
and paying too many taxes.
This is the place where even Struggle
kicks off his shoes and relaxes
and the only war that will ever take place
is the “battle of the saxes.”
   
This is the place where Jazz
is served up as a sensual delight...
and it smells like grandmother’s chitlins
‘cause she always cooks ‘em just right,
and it tastes like the peach cobbler
she makes that gets better with every bite,
and it feels like love’s very first kiss
shared in the soft moonlight,
and it looks like Susanna Jones
when she wears that red dress,
Lord, what a beautiful sight,
and it sounds like the Jazz Disciples
smooth on a blue Monday night
or like Gabriel’s trump at the Rapture
just before we take flight.

So these ministers of music
are awaiting your arrival
wanting to provide you
with orchestral comfort
as you witness the Revival
because jazz, like matter,
can’t be destroyed
it only changes forms
and the historic intersection
of 18th and Vine
is where jazz will be reborn.

Then we will cherish
this noble noise
and glow in the cool of its heat
as the caramel coated cacophony
creates a sonically hypnotic beat
that can only ever be heard
through the tapping soles of the feet
and as willing slaves to the rhythm
our freedom will be complete. 



-Glenn North