Ryles, August 11
hope for joy

She plays a swing song makes it new with a sexy lilt chords placed on the piano like scented napkins on mahogany she’s so good you can almost sing it Will Slater on bass is a muffled brick through a jewelry store window Yoko with a touch of Silver or a Horace ode then it’s Bud Powell after a pedicure and a facial Scott hard on drums dropping a few bombs on the country grass as Yoko floods the fields like an ivory river

Glittering intro a modern number as modern as infinity slow and long as gospel on Sunday something you almost know and it slips off the tongue like sorbet a deep black cherry grand like an orchid blooming Lester Young in pork pie on the wall behind her and she’s as beautiful as Billie Holiday quieting for a bass snatch then trills with grace notes a trace of the blues in the bittersweet wash she climbs like ivy on college bricks massaging the back of the board muscles limber again with a peppy pickup getting resplendent with a hope for joy