Jazz Cypher

Who gives the best Jazz sessions in town?
Even my boy Rceeezy from Houston, TX knows! Saxophone player Kamasi is the man, who frequently brings the few worldwide genuine musicians together in his backyard home-studio somewhere between L.A. and Inglewood for a recording jam session.
And here I land sitting in the corner with my little notebook trying to be as silent as a working ant can be… Ma che, working ant; in a time when art got monotonous and women turned ugly, I am fully aware of this divine ear-gasm and mos def do not mind to leave this 3 hours session with a new tinnitus.

Alright! Now you want to know why I’m accusing my species to be repulsive and art boring. As always, Venus does not worry to fully articulate herself:

In my eyes a woman is supposed to be compassionate wisdom and a gentle muse to the production driven man. But looking up to drug prepared Kate puppets and Tomb Raiders doesn’t it turn a girl into a miserable wicked fantasy?
Among the speculation that a male is incomplete without his female half, I observe an assortment of our days wanna-be-art being created with nothing but a mouse, the same way as Bush’s business plan: With the lonely desire of attention and power.

To me Art is an expressed definition of a life momentum that stimulates senses, mind and body like a massage. So, as a massage it has a divine value and we pay as much as we can afford to show our appreciation.

But by chance my hope dies last. Sitting here like a faded Moss on a VIP stool, witnessing 5 genius gentlemen mastering the recording of three overwhelming 10-15 minutes pieces of pure Jazz (each in max. 2 takes) I arouse believing in wonders again.

1 luv
ya jazzy gearl

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i feel ya, my writing and my muzk and my life and my love is art

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