No, I'm not a raving fan who dishes out compliments freely...(my closest friends will divulge that I've got high standards, and I don't flatter)... But honestly, seeing these people do their stuff in Bangkok Jazz was like... whoa. Legendary. I kid you not.
What struck me most about the gig, though, was more than the wonderfully-complicated jazz notes throughout the night, or the high level of skill these musicians had. The thing that truly amazed me was the pure intimacy these musicians shared... with their instruments, and with each other.
There was something about the way they stood on stage; eyes closed, faces looking upward, feet tapping, bodies swaying to the rhythm... It was as if they were connected, somehow, to the instruments they were playing. In that instant, you knew that they were lost in their music, that they derived much pleasure in creating the beautiful sounds coaxed from their instruments... and that there was no other place they wanted to be at that time.
Then there was band dynamics. The gig was a reunion of sorts, having come together after many years. And the strong bonds of friendship were evident. They were smilin' a lot, chuckling when certain missteps were inadvertently produced, and having mutual respect for each other's talent, particularly during the superbly-fantastic drool-worthy solos. They had fun. And we had fun watching them have fun.
I came away, moved from what I had seen. The intimacy and closeness they shared was almost palpable. That night, I saw the clear beauty of a person's creative expression, and the sheer power of music in uniting people.
Watching them onstage made me miss that feeling. Of losing myself in the music, of playing what I feel (not as I ought), expressing through my music what words cannot fully articulate. It's an amazing experience, one where I sometimes am subdued to awed silence, and feel an immense state of satisfaction.
It's a musician thing. Oh yeah.
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