#577 Achille’s Jass- Fatima Shaik
Achille Piron is a old New Orleans trumpet player. He plays as good as ever, but he doesn’t get many gigs anymore. The music scene is a fickle one and talent doesn’t always win out, but even now he has found his own niche. He is the one they call to play a funeral of other musicians. There seem to be a lot of those these days.
“There were only a few musicians alive who could capture a man’s whole spirit—lay him out from birth to death. And even, respectfully honor his foolish heart.”
“Because of his age, he could play loneliness better than ever.”
Mourners would ask for something upbeat or something with more joy, but inevitably they would be swept away by the emotion of Achille’s playing and weep and thank him for his soulful music.
“I’ll Fly Away would play so smooth and sincere that somebody would believe it. The weak-minded, the poor children just learning catechism, the old ladies—all might be apt to believe that God could fill their minds, their stomachs, and remove their wants and regrets. The music would be so convincing that the poor in spirit would let everyone see their tears and their faith for once. And they would convince others that God could relive unending sorrow.”
Somewhere in a cemetery, Achille plays, but not for another poor musician, but for himself and the city hears him and remembers and mourns. “Achille blew now as if he were playing his own funeral.”
I can't tell you how much this story has moved me. For those who see music as a religion and listen to music as if in church, Shaik hits home here. Like the tomb of the unknown soldier, this is a remarkably emotional elegy to the nameless musicians that touch our lives at our most raw moments; and this is a celebration to music itself and its power of transcendence.
Notable Passage: “A person had to know a little about life to understand music.”
No comments:
Post a Comment