I can't tell you how many times I've been slain by the horn of Louis Armstrong.
I'm a sucker for the highs lows, and haunts of sassy Sarah Vaughn.
My finger tips, toes and rib cage suffer rhythm excruciating for the sake of soul.
I'm proud to be a woman, but I'd have no beef had I been born
the Modern Jazz Quartet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment