The alto player next to me in the rehearsal band and and I watch the world – and forests of seemingly unplayable semiquavers- go by, and we chat.
After the tenor players have charged through their 64-bar solos, and the flugelhorns have emoted their ballads, we stop counting our bars rest, and put our brains in neutral . We find it best to avoid contentious subjects like tuning, so we talk about politics and religion instead. We ask, rhetorically, how it can possibly be that the bar lines get so much younger and more fleet of foot every year.
(Some of which are going to make you absolutely GROAN…. )
My Papadum tole Me (Blues in the Night)
Oh You Beautiful Dhall
Samosa these Days
I could raita book
All God’s chillis got rhythm
Pilau don’t talk about me when I’ve gone
Let’s Face the Dhansak and Muse
What a swell chapati this is
Dhansak in the Dark.
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