jazz by the seaside

Jazz by the Seaside

Waves roll and crash against the shore, as surfers rise and fall. Sticks fall and rise, as drum sounds crash and roll against the crowd. The Sax player takes off his dusty schoolmaster’s jacket as he adds colour to the scene.

The audience sit and share the sense of rhythm and time, clapping politely as each impro ends. Between sets the fans shift and move, all shades of grey, including the women with the French plait, young neck and old face; “mind that glass it’s had water in it, for my throat you know” says the lady on the door.

The next group of musicians shuffle on stage, whilst the milk-tray man glides late to his seat. The couple behind, he with the monks hair and the deckchair shirt, she with the 1930’s slip on, finish their conversation: “You see that man over their, in the front row, blowing his nose?” “What the one with the jacket over his shoulder?” “Yes, that’s Tom, you wouldn’t think he was 81 would you?”.