The Jazz Band Boys

I watch this gang of boys, tall and gawky, yet confident and stylish. They gather around their instruments and pass them amongst each other (they each play two or three). They smile and cheer each other on. Music is their sport, the band is their team.

The boys are not concerned with what others think. They have each other and their instruments. The energy they exude is strong and powerful, happy and loud. The camaraderie between them is tangible.

I pull out my phone and film them as one strums the bass, the other blows the trumpet, and another bangs on drums. One is plucking an electric guitar and another dancing his fingers over the piano. Smiles and laughter cover their faces. Their smiles are translated to the audience.

The music is lively and buoyant. I feel like I’m at a speakeasy down in New Orleans. The mood casual, yet, we are all over dressed (that’s the fun of it). We would be drinking drinks we cannot pronounce and chatting with friends whom we just met. These new found friends are poets, obviously.


Anyway, as I whisper to my friend, we can’t help but smile at the talent radiating in the small, intimate space. The jazz band boys are mysterious and intriguing, excited and passionate. Music is their second language and they share it thoughtfully through brass.