When the little blue bird

They're the only sounds I want to hear lately.  The trombones and trumpets and all the soul and Parisian-inspired, oft blues-flavored, full-bodied, soulful jazz and slow-waltz, smooth as fresh-cream harmonies.  

It's getting lost between Louis and Django and moonlight harmonies with Dinah and Billie.  

 

I recently asked Lloyd if, when considering instrument choices for Sayler to try, we might consider trombone or trumpet.  We're in hung jury status at the moment- though I expect a verdict in a few year's time.

 

The heavy brass is in all the music I tend to enjoy when I need to decompress in solitude, and in the scores that accompany my scat singing I reserve for when I'm a healthy distance away from friends or co-workers.

Let's be honest- my cool reputation is at stake. 

But it's recently become 'our' sweet compromise- something her and I both equally take solace in and the only type of music we get lost in these days.

 

When Sayler and I are zipping around town, driving distances to see family and friends and hitting the highway for parts unknown they're the favorite songs and artists and sounds that we both share.

 

She doesn't say "it's too loud, mommy" and she doesn't protest "I don't like that song" when I play my favorite jazz and blues artists.  In fact, I think Sayler is making Etta her 'go-to' when she's in need of getting lost in thought on a long drive.

 

I see my little girl staring out the window, quietly, pensively as Maxine Sullivan lends her voice to our commutes...

 

For the past few weeks as the likes of Nat King Cole and co. have roared out our car window she complained not once.  She asked for no snack, there were no whimpers of dehydration nor "I'm sweaty..." huffs.  There was one moment when she referred to Ella's Cry Me A River as "kinda' scary song, mommy", but since I could totally see her point, I validated her commentary, and now know exactly what song she is referring to when she asks me to play the "scary song".  I still can't quite figure out what the "digging" song is that she keeps asking me to play.  Do let me know if you have an idea.

 

And as we made the long drive home on Saturday in the lateness of the hours after Charisma's birthday party, I found myself in deep contemplation over what the best version of "The Way You Look Tonight" is.  Because if my jazz doesn't have heavy brass, a soft piano silhouette will do nicely.

 

No matter how many times I played the song in all it's stylistic versions and intonations I came back to Tony Bennett's version.

 

It's the best, right?  And it got me through that otherwise sleepy long ride home as I sang along in my best baritone voice, repeating that version several times, with my most precious cargo asleep in the back.