Post by Kisa Fairly on Jul 27, 2013 1:50:25 GMT -8
Kisa sighed really loudly.
Not only was she tired of her Suzuki motorcycle being in the shop for repair, but she was especially tired of carrying her saxophone gig bag whenever she wanted to practice in the park. It was way heavier than need be for an alto saxophone; her arm knew that too well. Yes, she'd had the experience of lugging around her baritone sax before, but she could always just play the bari music on her alto. They're both Eb, so who really cared?
Walking through the park, although her arm protested in pain, was lovely. There had been a wonderful green park just next to her dad's fire station and she had spent most of her childhood practicing her instruments outside where the sleeping firemen couldn't be disturbed. So when Kisa stumbled upon Pearson Park mid-freshman year, she easily fell in love. If there was one thing that soothed her more than being surrounded by people, it was being surrounded by nature. The familiarity of it made her feel safe and secure. The tall, sturdy trees, the vibrantly green grass, the cute benches here and there in some places, and the chirping birds everywhere.
After straying from the sidewalk for a bit, Kisa came to her favorite tree, the tallest one in the whole park, and set her gig bag down. She put her alto saxophone together, made sure her reed was soaked in spit and ready to go, and flipped through some of her solo jazz music. After she flipped through The Chicken, Peanut Vendor, Brick House, and a few other faster tunes, she was finally getting to the ballads, which she felt needed practice on her musicality. Then a more tattered piece of music fell out of her remaining stack of ballads she owned. She picked up the piece of paper and ready "Misty" in big bold jazz lettering and she smiled a bit. It was one of the jazz solos she'd had in high school that had been her favorite. She knew it backward and forward and could play it any speed, any style if you asked.
Kisa pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to her music. She knew she had a backing track for Misty somewhere and - oh! there it was. She took out her gigantic old style headphones that covered her ears entirely and plopped them on her head. In moments she had the music playing, saxophone to the ready. She swayed a bit to the music in her black Converse, her necklace jangling in front of her black tank that read, "Bad choices make good stories," with a bright blue blouse sort of thing over it. Her jeans were a dark gray and skinny with a black belt. Just something simple for what seemed to be a simple day.
When it came to that first note, though, she started off with a strong attack and softened into it, letting the music climb and fall and she felt it should. Kisa threw in a grace note here, a little bit of improv there, and felt that same sort of security she always got when she played her jazz music. A soft blanket of calm that would otherwise be all but gone. She closed her eyes as she fell farther into her music. Kisa sailed over the top of the backing track only she could hear through the headphones. Not a care in the world came to mind about passerbys or people staring. So far she hadn't had an interruption, but who cares if they did?
Kisa only had one thought though, and that was simply her music. What came next and what she could do with it to squeeze even more emotion into the bars and phrases. How it would rise and fall and what she could go with from there. As the song came to a close, she knitted her eyebrows with a sort of concentration because she wanted to get the ending just right. And as she let the vibrato hum at the end, she felt she had done well for her first time playing it from memory in forever. And she let the saxophone go from her mouth and opened her eyes to the daylight.
word count; 710 words
notes; Here's the song - link I'll have my posting table when I'm not so lazy.
Not only was she tired of her Suzuki motorcycle being in the shop for repair, but she was especially tired of carrying her saxophone gig bag whenever she wanted to practice in the park. It was way heavier than need be for an alto saxophone; her arm knew that too well. Yes, she'd had the experience of lugging around her baritone sax before, but she could always just play the bari music on her alto. They're both Eb, so who really cared?
Walking through the park, although her arm protested in pain, was lovely. There had been a wonderful green park just next to her dad's fire station and she had spent most of her childhood practicing her instruments outside where the sleeping firemen couldn't be disturbed. So when Kisa stumbled upon Pearson Park mid-freshman year, she easily fell in love. If there was one thing that soothed her more than being surrounded by people, it was being surrounded by nature. The familiarity of it made her feel safe and secure. The tall, sturdy trees, the vibrantly green grass, the cute benches here and there in some places, and the chirping birds everywhere.
After straying from the sidewalk for a bit, Kisa came to her favorite tree, the tallest one in the whole park, and set her gig bag down. She put her alto saxophone together, made sure her reed was soaked in spit and ready to go, and flipped through some of her solo jazz music. After she flipped through The Chicken, Peanut Vendor, Brick House, and a few other faster tunes, she was finally getting to the ballads, which she felt needed practice on her musicality. Then a more tattered piece of music fell out of her remaining stack of ballads she owned. She picked up the piece of paper and ready "Misty" in big bold jazz lettering and she smiled a bit. It was one of the jazz solos she'd had in high school that had been her favorite. She knew it backward and forward and could play it any speed, any style if you asked.
Kisa pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to her music. She knew she had a backing track for Misty somewhere and - oh! there it was. She took out her gigantic old style headphones that covered her ears entirely and plopped them on her head. In moments she had the music playing, saxophone to the ready. She swayed a bit to the music in her black Converse, her necklace jangling in front of her black tank that read, "Bad choices make good stories," with a bright blue blouse sort of thing over it. Her jeans were a dark gray and skinny with a black belt. Just something simple for what seemed to be a simple day.
When it came to that first note, though, she started off with a strong attack and softened into it, letting the music climb and fall and she felt it should. Kisa threw in a grace note here, a little bit of improv there, and felt that same sort of security she always got when she played her jazz music. A soft blanket of calm that would otherwise be all but gone. She closed her eyes as she fell farther into her music. Kisa sailed over the top of the backing track only she could hear through the headphones. Not a care in the world came to mind about passerbys or people staring. So far she hadn't had an interruption, but who cares if they did?
Kisa only had one thought though, and that was simply her music. What came next and what she could do with it to squeeze even more emotion into the bars and phrases. How it would rise and fall and what she could go with from there. As the song came to a close, she knitted her eyebrows with a sort of concentration because she wanted to get the ending just right. And as she let the vibrato hum at the end, she felt she had done well for her first time playing it from memory in forever. And she let the saxophone go from her mouth and opened her eyes to the daylight.
word count; 710 words
notes; Here's the song - link I'll have my posting table when I'm not so lazy.
