boring music bars black people. I don’t enjoy listening to it mIke does . they play it in New orleans, long notes, lots of piano and saxophone, jazzing up things with bling and diamonds
paulina
its jazz to his ears, brutus’s words
deep baritones and slow melodies make his voice complete
he could listen to brutus speak all day
caiuscassius
She listened to the grace notes, hoping they would provide some sort of insight into what was happening. They told her a story of heartbreak, of something disguised as love but never quite making the mark.
all that jazz. stuff. music, new orleans. soul style. louis armstrong
Lisa Ann Henderson
for quite a while in my life i thought i loved jazz, i thought it was my favorite genre. i didn’t know at the time that the genre i was looking for was alternative, but i still do like jazz. i envision a little jazz joint with dim lighting and wine. i love it. new york jazz nights. energetic. eccentric.
caroline
I wasn’t jazzed about it–my dad dragging me to this Grateful Dead cover band–but I guess they’re okay. Even better, though, the women in their tie dye dresses, waving their arms around in slow motion. I filmed it. Put it on Snapchat. Then dad saw and told me to cut it out. I told him to chill out, go smoke some more of that weed I saw him stuff in his waistband earlier. Or better yet–hand it over.
It was a nice try, but no luck; he walked back into the crowd and it carried him away. They were all dancin’ in the streets now; and there was nothing I could do about it.
Your jazz saxophone rules my heartstrings. Always has, always will. Your improvisations echo through the forests I dream of, notes ascending to the castle above.
Ella Emma Em
Jazz hasn’t always been appealing to me, mainly because I don’t like instrumental music. However, I realize that jazz can be more than just instrumental music, as illustrated by Frank Sinatra.
All that jazz about jazz. I’ve been to jazz clubs. In my day, they were smoky. Crowded. Noisy with people talking despite the guys playing up on stage. I always hoped one of those guys would pick me up after the set was finished. They were mobbed by women after and I couldn’t join a mob. Or wouldn’t. I’m fonder of Golden Oldies and Soft Rock but when jazz comes on NPR, I leave it on, and sooner or later, it gets under my skin. I knew a girl named Jazzy. She was.
Joanna Bressler
jazz is a dance form and a type of music to do dance to. or to listen too. Alot of older people like jazz
jayna
All that jazz.
Every time I needed money, every time I wanted news of my family, I had to go through it all.
“What are you doing with your life? Who are you seeing? Aren’t you such a good little girl, missing home?”
Every time, I grit my teeth and say, “Schooling, nobody, yes.”
Even the times when I am out of work, when my teachers are on strike, when I’ve flunked out of classes, when I have a nice steady boyfriend that happens to be non-religious, when the last thing I want to do is to go “home.”
That isn’t home anymore, and I don’t think it ever really was.
Sparklespirit
everywhere I hear sound it is always different some how I can’t understand
Peter Giampietro
Jazz. The first thing in my mind is the music genre, but it also remembers me of a name. A person. Jazz seems like a person who’s always happy and curious, but deep down a girl you don’t expect her to be.
“Somehow,” Alex smiled, “I had a feeling you liked jazz.”
He reclined on the large easy chair in Melanie’s living room, listening to the sliding notes of the saxophone on the stereo. Melanie rolled her eyes.
“I was raised on it,” she explained. “My dad was a trombonist in a big jazz band. He made sure I learned piano and never stopped listening to the classics.”
dança
boring music bars black people. I don’t enjoy listening to it mIke does . they play it in New orleans, long notes, lots of piano and saxophone, jazzing up things with bling and diamonds
its jazz to his ears, brutus’s words
deep baritones and slow melodies make his voice complete
he could listen to brutus speak all day
She listened to the grace notes, hoping they would provide some sort of insight into what was happening. They told her a story of heartbreak, of something disguised as love but never quite making the mark.
all that jazz. stuff. music, new orleans. soul style. louis armstrong
for quite a while in my life i thought i loved jazz, i thought it was my favorite genre. i didn’t know at the time that the genre i was looking for was alternative, but i still do like jazz. i envision a little jazz joint with dim lighting and wine. i love it. new york jazz nights. energetic. eccentric.
I wasn’t jazzed about it–my dad dragging me to this Grateful Dead cover band–but I guess they’re okay. Even better, though, the women in their tie dye dresses, waving their arms around in slow motion. I filmed it. Put it on Snapchat. Then dad saw and told me to cut it out. I told him to chill out, go smoke some more of that weed I saw him stuff in his waistband earlier. Or better yet–hand it over.
It was a nice try, but no luck; he walked back into the crowd and it carried him away. They were all dancin’ in the streets now; and there was nothing I could do about it.
Your jazz saxophone rules my heartstrings. Always has, always will. Your improvisations echo through the forests I dream of, notes ascending to the castle above.
Jazz hasn’t always been appealing to me, mainly because I don’t like instrumental music. However, I realize that jazz can be more than just instrumental music, as illustrated by Frank Sinatra.
All that jazz about jazz. I’ve been to jazz clubs. In my day, they were smoky. Crowded. Noisy with people talking despite the guys playing up on stage. I always hoped one of those guys would pick me up after the set was finished. They were mobbed by women after and I couldn’t join a mob. Or wouldn’t. I’m fonder of Golden Oldies and Soft Rock but when jazz comes on NPR, I leave it on, and sooner or later, it gets under my skin. I knew a girl named Jazzy. She was.
jazz is a dance form and a type of music to do dance to. or to listen too. Alot of older people like jazz
All that jazz.
Every time I needed money, every time I wanted news of my family, I had to go through it all.
“What are you doing with your life? Who are you seeing? Aren’t you such a good little girl, missing home?”
Every time, I grit my teeth and say, “Schooling, nobody, yes.”
Even the times when I am out of work, when my teachers are on strike, when I’ve flunked out of classes, when I have a nice steady boyfriend that happens to be non-religious, when the last thing I want to do is to go “home.”
That isn’t home anymore, and I don’t think it ever really was.
everywhere I hear sound it is always different some how I can’t understand
Jazz. The first thing in my mind is the music genre, but it also remembers me of a name. A person. Jazz seems like a person who’s always happy and curious, but deep down a girl you don’t expect her to be.
“Somehow,” Alex smiled, “I had a feeling you liked jazz.”
He reclined on the large easy chair in Melanie’s living room, listening to the sliding notes of the saxophone on the stereo. Melanie rolled her eyes.
“I was raised on it,” she explained. “My dad was a trombonist in a big jazz band. He made sure I learned piano and never stopped listening to the classics.”