In the jam of the group one note sets the tone, created within smoky circles the sound complete, a tight message of music, fingers pulling the jazz, drums striking up a beat, brushing the day aside, as the horn digs deep, the sax pushes out a raspy scratch and the bass mellows into an undercurrent … More SIDEWAYS
The music had change and stretch, marching the sidewalks, turning heels and heads, twisting the jazz in into shadows with snap and burning where fingers speak a language of black tar streets and perfume rolls on the sweat of hands born into the arms of people stacked in apartments that … More A CITY MOVING
THAT BRASSY THING In him that thing voiced a noise, circling, surfacing, beating his insides until busting out with the jazz then rising, filling the air with his lightening, pushing brass into highs and making the lows cry tears of songs deep from wells where he sleeps, thinking strong with busy fingers, … More THAT BRASSY THING
The stars don’t have a chance and that moon up there fat with cheese smiling silver and winking cold holds not a candle to the man and his guitar pulling strings thick like Christmas bows each note popping up like the sun but that to can’t hold no heat when those picking … More SNAPPING THOSE STRINGS
I see the remembers, with alleys dark and garbage can cats jumping a jive like horns and drums busting a beat at Tin Pan corners where neon’s red and blue point to the apples best and brightest jazz long into a night that got no end, only beginnings, striking out a rhythm busting into the … More THE ONLY APPLE
Celestial curtains cover him with a design of plenty. He breathes alive the bass, jazzing the room with engine pulsing sounds. . His hair is black and thick, like obsidian crystals crushed from stars. The beauty of his face and voice release like midnight bats carving the sky. Highways of angels step up, securing a … More JAZZING UP
River edge at the yawning of the delta, I hear cottonwoods rattle voices like people, low by campfires scraping washboards and snapping strings; soft footed fast picking thieves run with shadows. Beating drums stretch the skin of messages released under wide blue free skies of music calling. Red dusty roads rise up stormy jazzy … More DELTA JAZZ
His jazz is thick, mantled in hair black with twists rich with shine absorbing the lights as his hands push the track of strings chasing demons of his love while fingers run over fences in his mind into shadowed alleys where smoke chokes the air as his eyes close he slaps the bass awakening the … More SLAPPING STRINGS
Roger Singer 