Frypan (November)

People compare jazz to a Swiss Army knife, lots of different stuff stuck together. This is a terrible analogy. Jazz is more like a frypan. I went into a theatre, hunger in my being, and what the hell the music is United States, Poland, Cuba and who knows what. Afro-Peruvian, is that even possible? Rhythm section’s tight, percussion’s tough, brass shouts, piano gossips, the guitar is sweet heaven. If it’s November, then this is Australia. Pinch me! The ingredients you put in determine the quality of the menu. These guys are so hot they’re about to jump in the fire.