Where: The Danforth Music Hall
When: 12 March 2016
In one word: Blossom
Imagine walking into a French bistro getting a croissant stepping outside on the patio taking a bite lighting a cigarette and listening to Run DMC.
And then you see a girl unlocking her bike chained to an oil lamp post and witness the moment she looked up at the sun and let in her breath before embarking on a journey.
But the sirens are in the direction she is heading.
You decide to follow her with your camera to maybe make sure she is okay because you have nothing better to do and being a freelance writer in Europe is hard.
Then you realize you are out of cigarettes and forget the French word for cigarette.
Like a cigarette in France, BadBadNotGood is sinful and beautiful.
Night approaches and you have no dinner plans and you still haven’t seen her around.
Hoping to share a similar breath, you decide to find an oil lamppost near the canals to take some photos, like you had seen older men do in your youth feeding the birds.
And she approaches and you hear a saxophone play with the breeze.
Walking her bike and exhausted all she wants to do is sit under the approaching rain showers and cool down.
You are afraid but the saxophone sounds nice and you have to put away your camera soon anyways so you do that and start walking towards her to cross paths.
Slipping her a high five.
She is stunned but you mention jazz and she relaxes.
You remember that band you saw in Canada and how they sounded like something you’d want to share, like that breath.
“Quelque chose des poumons, j’pense.”
And you both let out a silent sigh and say goodnight.
And she doesn’t have an umbrella.
You do. You scumbag. Don’t walk away.
But you do.
She notices and complains with another breath, one you cannot share.
But the rain has started and the saxophone is now a driving bass line pulling you towards her.
And the sound is something like you hear when moments like these approach and you don’t know what to do so you just listen for the rhythm and see how things change.
A boat passes by and let’s out a horn breath, one that startles her because she had been watching you walk away sadly.
Then you realized it was all fine.
And sat with her by the canals sharing lots of air and umbrella while the rain poured down that night.
And those are the kinds of dreams you can dream with some blossoming music.
© Shaun Fitl, Music Vice
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