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November 21, 2004

Sunday In America

Ornette Coleman is a 74 year-old man who picks up his horn and blows out pure light. In his powder blue suit, purple tie and black-feathered hat, he is the king of the hill, the cock of the walk, the rule of the roost. In his gait he carries all of his years and then some, until he starts playing. Feet tap, knees bounce, fingers dance. Curious eyes shine, and that sound, that horn, that unmistakable noise comes out, the one that’s kept me floating for a week. I wept and I shivered. I smiled and I shook. Rejoicing, I sat, surrounded and enveloped and cushioned by one of the purest, truest American things I know, one of the only ones I have any good faith remaining in, and in this time and place, that was more than enough.

Posted by pogo at November 21, 2004 9:09 PM

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