Be Bop & Cool, Vol. 1

Yesterdays

My lyrics (on the sung version posted alone here):
Down to the mines to work the day; some guys feel fine, some not,
all gotta make their pay. Not unlike the men who cut and ran
the stones for Pharoah’s grave pyramid, coal miners in America
they go down into the underworld for their families and they know
there’s a chance every day that’s where they’ll stay for eternity, forever,
forever and a day’s end...

This performance takes us out of the traditional harmonic-melodic Evans-heavens and into the realm of another of the influences named in the liner notes: Borah Bergman, for his concept of the pianist’s left hand as a symbol of the oppressed workers of the world. I  don’t take the concept as far as does its originator—no crossed hands here, no systematically developed new fingerings—but I do take it far in a direction that adds to the definition of my style. My left hand is uncanny in its precision-bomb-like way of hitting bottom notes, forging bottom lines, that are clearly unplanned, unscripted, unpredictable. If the freedom of the world’s working class is analogous to the freedom of the body’s hands from its mind’s stifling control, some such liberation is afoot here. The contours of the tune are always visible, yet as though harboring the beginning rumbles of some disaster—tsunami, earthquake, volcano—about to wash, shake, burn them away.

My lyrics:
Dear wife and children be at ease; I and my brothers are leaving you in peace.
Even as I write, the air is thick and cold, the light is turned to darkness.
We feel death coming on like sleep, we love you all in our dreamy deep,
won’t you keep us in your hearts, where it’s warm and full of light,
all through our night, our good night, shining night, manly nightwatchman
keep us through this fright end....

Cecil Taylor and Anthony Braxton, as word-artists as well as pianists, likewise loom in this track. Miners trapped in a mine, eventually dying and leaving behind notes that told their wives not to worry too much about it, were in the news when this lyric was conceived (out of its resonance with “B-Minor”...). 

What do you hear? Something like Frankenstein’s monster: emotional turbulence without the transition of organic context...a lurch from one plane of affect and meaning to another, without rationale. Something interesting and brilliant, to be sure...but also disturbing, missing something you know should be there.


B Minor Waltz (Bill Evans)

The Legendary Glenn Miller

The Nearness of You

[Verse]

The clock ticks slow, it hums a tune,

A melody wrapped in the moon,

The stars lean close, they wink, they swoon,

Time pirouettes, a sly monsoon.



[Chorus]

Oh, it’s a timeless tango, love’s sweet refrain,

A step in the past, then forward again.

The old meets the new, a syncopated spin,

Round and round, where we begin.



[Verse 2]

A muted horn whispers its tale,

Of smoky rooms and lovers frail.

Yet the bass line jumps, a modern trail,

Bridging the past on a satin sail.



[Bridge]

Brushed snares sweep like whispered schemes,

Trumpets tease, igniting dreams.

The piano giggles, its notes in streams,

A timeless blend, where nothing’s as it seems.



[Chorus]

Oh, it’s a timeless tango, love’s sweet refrain,

A step in the past, then forward again.

The old meets the new, a syncopated spin,

Round and round, where we begin.



[Outro]

The dance fades soft, the notes retreat,

Tradition bows to a modern beat.

But in the silence, they softly greet,

A timeless tango, complete, replete.

More Than You Know

Ella Fitzgerald