The Burning Bridge Project
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This is not 52nd Street. The rich, white academics will no longer be given their structured, easy-to-listen-to jazz. This is Milton's Playhouse. This is the heart of music. Structure - time - form and proper scales are dead here. This is the place that jazz progresses. 52nd Street is stale and lifeless. The bridge to 52nd Street has been burned down. This is Improvisational Writing. It lives through every typo - misspelling - misuse and grammatical mistake. It is music without sound. Without measures. Without Scales. Without time. Without prisons. It is a hope to give life to something that ha...
This is not 52nd Street. The rich, white academics will no longer be given their structured, easy-to-listen-to jazz. This is Milton's Playhouse. This is the heart of music. Structure - time - form and proper scales are dead here. This is the place that jazz progresses. 52nd Street is stale and lifeless. The bridge to 52nd Street has been burned down. This is Improvisational Writing. It lives through every typo - misspelling - misuse and grammatical mistake. It is music without sound. Without measures. Without Scales. Without time. Without prisons. It is a hope to give life to something that has become so confined it can no longer breathe. It may be one continuous mistake. But it is honest - true - uncompromising and unconfined. In a world that has a million bookshelves lined with street maps to 52nd Street, this is a fresh note. It may be a flat note, nonetheless, it is a note.
