A perfect example is the beautiful version of summer time he arranged and led, with his charging forward style, sometimes not even bothering to play all the notes and get the hell out of my way don’t you see there is a rhythm rolling here be careful it will knock you to the ground if you don’t step aside. Forward. Su- u –u- mer time…drum…bass…pounding, marching forward with a jazzy swinging swagger into a dark alley with some girl with too much makeup.
And that was Mingus.
Direct. Strong. Forceful. Genius. A repeating solo line. Three notes. Repeating, swirling, paraphrasing themselves in every small change in rhythm, in every twist of the plot, so simple and so complex. Getting Slower. And then again picking up and a final stretch and fade out. I need a cigarette. And I hope he will pay, I really should have taken the money in advance.
It was that animal energy that made his special in the jazz world. Let's face it most of the other geniuses of his time might have also been junkies and drunks but they were pussies. They were not really threatening with all that intelligent music and sophisticated charm. I can't really see miles Davis hitting someone. Throwing a shoe at someone maybe. And john Coltrane? He was a sweetheart. A freaking saint. There is even a church built for him.