Sandpaper songs chisel her image into rough edges. She is sharp to the fingers and smooth to the skin; dark pearls follow her steps.. She is an alligator wrapped in ribbons; gentle without meaning, harsh with intention. Her sound is muddy thick. Dust storms jump from the caves of … More IRREGULAR
The jazz sweeps the lonesome form me feeding my needs and filling my wants digging into deep and pulling up like an anchor rising from the a dark blue breaking the gold blue surface releasing my pain spinning it like a top faster into fast onto the floor past dancing feet … More BREAKING SOUND
His fingers owned the strings releasing freely treasures slipping to earth. Notes competing with stars lighted dark skies like Christmas every night. His head snapped to the beats bursting in air then settled slow into soft. Sweat channeled long with drips from his passion as he breathed out the jazz.
Night chords drip a slow pace. Porches fill with moving voices. The ice in drinks mix with perfume and sweat. The bass man spills the passion while his hands create a sound blessing. He has a garden of jazz to release. Colors in the crowd move forward, bright with face, soft in … More INSPIRATION
His sound developed out of water, dripping like icing from cakes; sweet liquid fingers anger the gods. Flat oceans hold a deep energy he draws from, like waves rushing over unbelieving eyes, salting the pain onto cellophane skin where it all shouts release. Rocks cool from scattered rain, where spots join into a gloss as … More CELLOPHANE SKIN
Breaths of songs burst out like laughter rising with fever, sending souls into jumping with sounds of thunder, fat and rolling. Wallpaper edges slip their glue while thick windows rattle like teeth cold chattering in frigid winds. The horns dip hot with jazz blowing a reverence of pure beginnings … More HOT WITH JAZZ
Talk to me oh bass with wells deep and voices strong as if the earth were grinding under the souls of us snapping fingers like the pop of July 4th as stars explode high in wide skies untouched by voices but regularly with the rub of strings the bass man slides alive
The jazz and the junk crawled like ants with cymbals on their feet jungle marching inside his head yelling to his snazzy fingers to blow notes with pounding and circling like witchy winds scratching hard at the air tearing a hole and blasting the music smacking flat into faces smiling broad … More FROM THAT HORN
The rumble Of jazz Rattles the air Like crazy cats Scratching Garbage can tops As the band Lifts from down Pulling the shades Bold and tight While raising The sound High and loud Beating out Fast and catchy Winds Whipping up A storm Of sweaty souls Dropping the rain Of dance Onto … More GARBAGE CAN TOPS
The jazz sweeps the lonesome form me feeding my needs and filling my wants digging into deep and pulling up like an anchor rising from the a dark blue breaking the gold blue surface releasing my pain spinning it like a top faster into fast onto the floor past dancing feet … More BREAKING SOUND
Roger Singer 