«... she realised how wrong she had been to think that he played for no one but himself: he didn't even play for himself - he just played. He was the exact opposite of his friend Art, who put everything of himself into every note he played: Chet put nothing of himself into his music and that's what lent his playing its pathos. The music he played felt abandoned by him. He played the old ballads and standards with a long series of caresses that led nowhere and subsided into nothing.»
But beautiful, Geoff Dyer
quinta-feira, 19 de janeiro de 2017
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