And I would like to play a
Little tune I just composed not so long ago
Ms. Billie Holiday
Byrd?
The music called Jazz
It's roots are in the sounds of the African
Or should I say the mother, bringin' us back again
From the drummin' on the Congo
We came with a strong flow and continue to grow
Feet move, to the beat of the t'balo
Now dig the story and follow
For then it landed, on American soil
Through the sweat, the blood and the toil
Hear, "Praise the Lord," shouted on chain gangs
Pain they felt, but it helped them to maintain
Scott Joplin's rags, Bessie Smith's blues
St. Louis blues, they were all the news
Ringin' smooth in all the listener's ears
Fulfillin' the needs and plantin' the seeds of a jazz thing
King Oliver's group was a train comin' through
To Chicago, bringin' the New Orleans groove
And when Satchmo blew, the audience knew
Basil Street blues was the whole house tune
It was music, great to dance to
Great to romance to, with a lot to say to you
Relaying a message, revealing the essence of a jazz thing
Jazz music, jazz music
Jazz music, jazz music
Jazz music, jazz music, jazz music
In the 40's came be-bop, the first be-bop
The real be-bop, so let me talk about
Diz' and Byrd, givin' the word
Defining how a beat could be so complete
Playing with ferocity, thinkin' with velocity
About ornithology, or anthropology
And even [Incomprehensible], and this is real history
Theolonious Monk, a melodious thunk
No mistakes were made with the notes he played
His conception, was [Incomprehensible]
A star glowing bright among dim lights
The critics did cite that he sounded alright
Charlie Mingus, such nimble fingers
Droppin' the bass, all over the place
And Max Roach, cymbals socking
Bass drum talking, snare drum rocking
Restructuring the metaphysics of a jazz thing
John Coltrane, a man supreme
He was the cream, he was the wise one
The impression of Afro Blue and of the promise
That was not kept, he was a giant step
And there was Ornette Coleman
He was another soul man
The original invisible, playing great music
I wonder why the Bangles couldn't use it
Now listen see, the real mystery is how music history
Created by white men or any other white man
That pretended he originated
And contended that he innovated a jazz thing
Of course we know who can really blow
Scheamin' on the meaning of a jazz thing
And this music ain't dead, so don't be misled
By those who said that jazz was on it's deathbed
'Cause when Betty Carter sings a song
Ain't nuttin' goin' on, but simply good music
And you won't refuse it
She's takin' her time, makin' the nuances rhyme
Sonny Rollins, tenor saxophone
With a big old tone, recitin' poems
With notes as words and haven't you heard
Next stop butter, right past Oleo
Now there's young cats blowin'
And more and more people, yes they will be knowin'
Jazz ain't the past, this music's gonna last
And as the facts unfold, remember who foretold
The 90's, will be the decade of a jazz thing
I love jazz music
A jazz thing
I love jazz music
A jazz thing
I love jazz music
I love jazz music
A jazz thing
