the brewing machine

In a time when the proverbial coolness of rock is as hackneyed as some idiomatic expressions like “she is beautiful inside and out”, a musician finds solace amidst the nonchalant snobbery of jazz.

When it comes to jazz music, I am far from being a guru. That holds true today, but probably not tomorrow. The artists I have listened to who are closest to being considered jazzers are but pseudojazzers only. Perhaps mainstream jazz will eventually appeal to my ears. Mishka Adams is a good start.

Maybe it has something to do with my love for coffee. I wonder if there’s a correlation between passion for coffee and jazz music. Or perhaps it’s my love for books. Or maybe because I’m just getting fed up with rock. Blame it on rip-off artists and posers dominating the airwaves today.

Or, perhaps I’m simply outgrowing my interest for the music of devil worshippers.

Whatever the case may be, James Douglas Morrison is still a genius, John Lennon is irreplaceable, and Bono will always be a god. Most things change, but a few never do.

On March 25 I will be checking out a gig by Johnny Alegre Affinity at Shag-rila Mall. I want to hear them live and see what the buzz on this group is all about.

Joining the bandwagon has never appealed to me. I read somewhere that people under the sign of Leo don’t run with the pride. They prefer to stand alone. Maybe that’s it. Read this paragraph again because here lies my theory for my recent interest in the music of free improvisation. Some even say it’s the musical apotheosis for “freedom”. Wheew! Whatever.

People oftentimes ascribe the adjective “cool” to the music. Yeah, yeah. Jazz is cool. But it’s too lame a word for me. Let me do the describing. Jazz…jazz rocks.