Clubscene - WordJazz

Still Grazin’

Under a burning sun
sinister and uncanny sounds
are swallowed up in the distance
caged predators on edge
cats pace
along moated promenade

the sun slants obliquely
past
an old line of trees
black wings streak
across a cloudless sky…
the wind
had become playful
pleasurable
to the reddened skin
the crowd is
restless
children race back and forth
expending energy

mbaqanga
a soulful rendering of emotion
rousing the spirits
rhythms for the booty shaker
in front of the bandstand

mbaqanga
a blending of South African
sounds
music with imagination
a driving force
with grace and swing
hard pulsing indigenous rhythms

the statesman - cultural activist
and treasure of the African continent
fills the air with blazing riffs
on Flugelhorn
with songs of inspiration
tapping into deep roots
mimicking
the sounds of a locomotive
moving laboriously
along the tracks
through
central African townships
picking up laborers
to toil the mines
sixteen hours a day
living
in
unspeakable conditions

an innovative world of fusion
a flowing tenor saxophone
a singing guitar
and
bass guitar thumping
blissfully

drums and cymbals
congas spanked
relentlessly
and the iya’lu dundun
that mimics
spoken speech tones
held under the arm
squeezing
tension strings
while
striking the membrane
with a curved stick
a cow bell
that roars like a lion
and
purrs softly like a
kitten

mbaqanga
has the capacity to stir the soul
turning a world into an everlasting night
the crowd unified in its
roaring appreciation

silence return to the world

“sure is mellow grazin in the grass
what a trip
just watching as the world
goes past
grazin in the grass

Redd Williams
08/01/07