[ Blues, Jazz and Funk ]
She was the learning process, back where I began
to climb the fretted neck and slide back down again
She tried to drown me, friend- it was a harsh victory
singing in my Muddy Waters voice "O Lord, Set Me Free!"
but the Lord didn't come, and the floods continued
and her sadness fused deep into my muscle and sinew
I grew strong and cold, sharecropping all my words
and from this came a tendency to ride the minor third-
augment the fourth, and climb her pentatonically sober
It still seems that since that first one, my Blues are never over....
But they recede, and shrink, and make way for other things
namely when I met this dame who taught me how to swing
and she'd sing, her notes would float and I'd float with `em
So I traded in my blues scales for her syncopated rhythms
but indecision was strong and she could never commit
and never be sure or confident in notes that she hit
And shit, it was difficult to just play and ignore
the way her silken voice was brushing softly on my chords
It was tough and I was bored of playing 2-6-5-1's
I was all that really mattered when the song was said and done...
So I escaped from Jazz, barely made it out alive
and now I ride new basslines with a Bootsy Collins vibe
The girl I'm loving now is like a life injection,
piercing skin and pumping me up with the Mothership Connection
with detection, I discover her delusions of my past
and I find that she'll never listen to the blues or jazz
but what she needs to understand is that they made me who I am
not everything can be spacey horns and freakalicious chants
theres a whole world of music she has yet to discover-
and under covers, I was fortunate to inherit them from lovers
Darling-
One day I'll crank the stereo with Mr. Johnson or Sir Duke
By showing you where I've been- I'll reveal myself to you.
Thanks,
Dr. Funkenstein
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