Midnight floorboards groan under a dancer’s slide
Neon sputters low where the alley tries to hide
Trumpet leans in first, sax answers with a sly dare
Down on Twelfth Street’s back room thick with smoky air
Satin women sway slow while the rhythm section grinds
Old boots tapping out truths only the night reminds
We trade riffs like secrets, each line a crooked joke
Living on the groove, bending notes in the smoke
Walls drip heat, counting every beat we earn
City pulse humming hard, now it’s the players’ turn

When the cases close and the alley claims the beat

Riff in the smoke, let the horns call out your name
Call-and-response till sunrise, feel the fire climb the flame
Club lights dim but the groove stays, hearts in the glow
Riff in the smoke, where the late-night legends go

Whiskey rings shining on a beat-up stage rail
Gambler grin, horn man grin, both reading the same tale
Keys crackle quick, strings humming with sweat and pride
Drums knock down uptown gloom where secrets like to hide
We flirt in the groove, trumpet to sax in a crooked line
Feet shuffle dusty boards, time melting like cheap wine
Endurance is the price here, stamina the road
In this midnight chapel of sound, the stories explode
And when the crowd drifts off and the hallway loses sound
We still bend riffs for truth in the empty round

We walk home carrying echoes in the soles of our feet

Riff in the smoke, let the horns call out your name
Call-and-response till sunrise, feel the fire climb the flame
Club lights dim but the groove stays, hearts in the glow
Riff in the smoke, where the late-night legends go

Barroom ghosts drifting where the horn clefs mourn
Street wisdom murmuring in the breaks we’ve worn
Under smoky chandeliers we fight the slipping hope
Till sunrise cracks the chords and cuts the rope

Riff in the smoke, let the horns call out your name
Call-and-response till sunrise, feel the fire climb the flame
Club lights dim but the groove stays, hearts in the glow
Riff in the smoke, where the late-night legends go

Riff in the smoke

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

Riff in the smoke

Terminalose