Friends, it is with a heavy heart I pass on the news that Donald Byrd has passed on …
A beautiful, funky, soulful, swinging sound has taken flight from the Samsaric world, and re-entered the realm of ten-thousand things …
~
The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs
The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jet—
were jet a crown
the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire—
Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight’s but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea’s a bar-glass
sucker size
The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips
It’s hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
– Trumpet Player, by Langston Hughes
~
Advice To An Aspiring Winemaker
Do you wish to make wine?
Don’t look towards the schools.
Don’t even look to the wineries.
Listen to Donald Byrd.
And ask yourself, upon what riff does your music slip?
Listen to Donald Byrd play.
And ask yourself, for what does your longing desire?
Listen to Donald Byrd speak.
Listen to Donald Byrd speak, when he stood up to those who would tell him what he ought to be doing.
“I’m creative; I’m not re-creative … I don’t follow what everybody else does.”
Do you wish to make wine?
Don’t do what everybody else does.
Don’t be re-creative.
Merely mellow to a golden note.
And be Donald Byrd.
~
Donald Byrd
Word
On the track
Quite exact
Giving you the format, Jack
–Guru, “Loungin’”
Categories: Wine and Jazz, Winemaking
Tags: Donald Byrd, Guru, Langston Hughes, Trumpet Player
