The group on the stand had no piano: it was bass, drums, McClintic and a boy he had found in the Ozarks who blew a natural horn in F. The drummer was a group man who avoided pyrotechnics, which may have irritated the college crowd. The bass was small and evil-looking and his eyes were yellow with pinpoints in the center. He talked to his instrument. It was taller than he was and didn't seem to be listening.posted by Trurl at 11:40 AM on October 23, 2011 [2 favorites]
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I've posted this before on the blue, but I was introduced to Bill Evans though a poetry class at college where we read August Kleinzahler, and later I found his poem "Whatever it takes"
What It Takes
He stared for hours
at the cat
taking his ease under the calla leaf
or fog
pour in late afternoon
whelming the tower on the hill
how bird truck or shout
wind&light
scored day the way the music
roll in a nickelodeon's scored
and what it played in the mind
or the young Bill Evans
before Scott LaFaro died
playing
My Foolish Heart
again and again
fennel, lobelia shadow&flies
however many times it takes
~August Kleinzahler
posted by FunGus at 11:14 AM on October 23, 2011 [4 favorites]