‘Hey Siri, play Brubeck.”

Another evening is upon us and my wife says, after weeks of “Take 5” tolerance, “Play something else?”

Grudgingly I flip through the Iphone looking for something else, something to match, if anything can, the 1964 Belgium recording of “Take 5”. But Brubeck and Morello’s drum solo and Wright and especially Paul Desmond win the moment; the “sound of a dry martini” drives me to the freezer, looking for the vodka. And olives.

But no Cashel Blue or any blu/blue in the house, a mistake. I make do with dry parmesan which won’t stuff an olive but at least it’s cheese and cuts the rawness of the vodka. And at least I have the proper glass in my hand.

I keep searching.

Now the regulars come up, a marching band of memories. Years, even decades of sound tracks go by. I settle on Bohemian Rhapsody. I know she likes it but not too much. Then The Blues Project, sounding more alive after all these decades than most bands you’ve ever heard. Wake me, shake me…I think about The Velvet Underground. I always think about the Velvet Underground. but don’t ever want to wear it out. We used to listen to “Heroin” in Brighton in our first bed.

Meanwhile the vodka goes down really well and it’s almost time for the England match. I remember making love to Penelope on the floor in the basement flat of Lewes Crescent (Marcus and Mitzi Cunliffe’s magnificent house) and lifting my head to flash Martin Chivers of Tottenham, an argy-bargy forward in black and white, a forward line all by himself. Sex and football.

Meanwhile Brubeck was was leaving in the dust younger music with music made long before, but which sounded younger. (“Take 5”, written by Desmond, was early 50s.) What jazz did was to kick music into “what’s new” every time it was played depending on who played it. Music that was not stuck in time if the musicians were fresh to it.

So I played something else and something else and finally went back the the sound of a dry martini.

2Tom Wyld and Jonathan HarriesLikeCommentShare