27-Jazz-Ska

Reggae raggamuffin, Fender bass and Gibson guitar, Hammond organ swell, Rhodes under vocals, clipped trombone and trumpet stabs, saxophone riffs, clarinet drones, oscillating Asian flute, featured guitar solo; slow, tight loose-bouncy offbeat groove with big shadow bass; 1970s studio mix, spring reverb, analog saturation, dub delay feedback; shamanic English lead vocal with close doubles, rough chant inflections, and brightened dark delivery

[Intro]
Small thing with a slow, dark cold wave,
keys on the low end, the lock misbehaving.
Streetlight bleeding through the curtain seam,
jazz-ska kissing like a waking dream.
(Sea roll in hard)

[Drop]
Sea slams in on a rougher groove
pull me in close (pull me in close)
Keys in the room, the snare goes *snap-snap-snap*
We ride that skank,
keep it loose (Wha-a-a-a)
when the horn line chats (chat-chat-chat)

[Verse 1]
Moon on the table, two cups gone cold,
record keeps spinning, no story to be told.
Hand on the dial, the trumpet starts to swing,
night finds its rhythm, the whole room sings.

[Hook]
(Drums lift up, still light, still bouncy)
[Bass line walks, then lands in the pocket]
Guitar chops on the offbeat, clean and quick
Percussion ticking like a matchstick click
Organ bubbling low, like it knows the room
Overall feel: late set, tight groove, sweet perfume
(Lovin' jazz-ska)

[Chorus]
Big tune rolling through the basement door,
glass in the sink, and the crowd wants more.
We lean on the bounce, let the brass cut through,
blue turned bright when the horn played true.

[Solo Guitar]
Bright, clipped phrases skate across the beat,
little bends and stabs with a slick two-step street.
A quick run up, then it hangs for air,
answers the horn like it’s always been there.
Then a sharp turn, flash, and a clean backslide,
right into the pocket, where the night takes a ride.

[Verse 2]
Late train rumbles, bar lights softly hum,
somebody laughing, a thumb on the drum.
No rush, no pose, just the room all in,
music in the bones when the set moves in.

[Final-Drop]
Sea roll in hard, rud-a-dub style
pull me in close (pull me in close)
Keys in the room, the snare goes *snap-snap-snap*
We rock the skank,
keep it loose (Wha-a-a-a)
when the horn line chats (chat-chat-chat)

[Outro]
Back door open, cool air on the floor,
bass still walking when we head for the door.
French in the throat and the cymbals swing,
“On y va” low while the night birds sing.
One more tune and the dark feels light,
jazz-ska riding us home through the night.

2051/7500

[Intro] Small thing with a slow, dark cold wave, keys on the low end, the lock misbehaving. Streetlight bleeding through the curtain seam, jazz-ska kissing like a waking dream. (Sea roll in hard) [Drop] Sea slams in on a rougher groove pull me in close (pull me in close) Keys in the room, the snare goes *snap-snap-snap* We ride that skank, keep it loose (Wha-a-a-a) when the horn line chats (chat-chat-chat) [Verse 1] Moon on the table, two cups gone cold, record keeps spinning, no story to be told. Hand on the dial, the trumpet starts to swing, night finds its rhythm, the whole room sings. [Hook] (Drums lift up, still light, still bouncy) [Bass line walks, then lands in the pocket] Guitar chops on the offbeat, clean and quick Percussion ticking like a matchstick click Organ bubbling low, like it knows the room Overall feel: late set, tight groove, sweet perfume (Lovin' jazz-ska) [Chorus] Big tune rolling through the basement door, glass in the sink, and the crowd wants more. We lean on the bounce, let the brass cut through, blue turned bright when the horn played true. [Solo Guitar] Bright, clipped phrases skate across the beat, little bends and stabs with a slick two-step street. A quick run up, then it hangs for air, answers the horn like it’s always been there. Then a sharp turn, flash, and a clean backslide, right into the pocket, where the night takes a ride. [Verse 2] Late train rumbles, bar lights softly hum, somebody laughing, a thumb on the drum. No rush, no pose, just the room all in, music in the bones when the set moves in. [Final-Drop] Sea roll in hard, rud-a-dub style pull me in close (pull me in close) Keys in the room, the snare goes *snap-snap-snap* We rock the skank, keep it loose (Wha-a-a-a) when the horn line chats (chat-chat-chat) [Outro] Back door open, cool air on the floor, bass still walking when we head for the door. French in the throat and the cymbals swing, “On y va” low while the night birds sing. One more tune and the dark feels light, jazz-ska riding us home through the night.

0/500