Missing Jazz

Took quick glimpes of the latest Singapore Idol jazz episode. That only served to reignite my desire to sing. Sing jazz.

I cannot wait, again, for a chance to stand before a mic, singing a jazz standard. Conveying all that the song wants to say, expressing the cacophony of clashing emotions the Blacks intended to convey in their Blues and sincerely adopting the song as a medium to express my undescribables that whirl through me.

Sometimes, just for the chance to share my music, I wished I joined Singapore Idol. And then when I watch the bitch-fest, I remember why in the first place, as a purist, how sincerely beautiful music can rarely be made if made the bed-fellow of the pursuit of fame and stardom.

Uncle T