Driving to the day-job listening to Charlie Christian certainly optimises any vestige of motivation I have for the day ahead. I’m looking at a book which analyzes Christian’s licks and which I’m trying to commit to memory; the more kid on the inattentive listeners that I possibly know something about jazz guitar. I have a notion, too, that if I play back-to-back Christian / Benny Goodman CDs in the car, a little might also embed itself in my psyche. If not, it’s still easier on the heart and ear than classical music radio might be at that time in the morning without the recommended four cups of coffee that I will not yet have had time to consume.
I’ve long found the ambivalence I hear in swing-blues irresistible and wished I could play it. It has the easy aplomb of swing coupled with the darkness of the blues. I might even swipe the security pass at the door with the breath of a whistle escaping the lips. This is never guaranteed, alas.