jazz

i asked him how do you improvise? and he said 

“i don’t.

everything i play comes from somewhere. this riff came from my morning coffee. the high c came from that feeling of twirling my son around in the park. the syncopation comes from the uncertainty of whether to get a hamburger or a tuna sandwich for lunch, and the swing? oh the swing comes from the passion, you know? 

the passion of the greats playing in new orleans in the twenties. the passion of that smoky jazz bar my grandpa took me to when i was still too young to drink, but he handed me a whiskey and said look, son, one day maybe you’ll feel the rhythm like those fellas up there. 

my wife hates when i sleep before a gig because my foot doesn’t stop tapping and my fingers run up and down the keys jumping from sharp to flat from dorian to aolian from c major to f# half diminished 7 from key to key black to white present to past “

so i guess no, he doesn’t improvise. he feels.