The vinyl is forever. The download is for the moment. The download insults the music that it claims to represent. The vinyl captures the music and turns it into a musical anachronism that transcends its very fragility to escape into a dimension of beauty that invisibly parallels the unfortunate reality that is bestowed upon us all by a God who, it seems, has forgotten how to laugh.
I don’t generally take kindly to jazz, There’s usually too much complexity, indeed too much cleverness, to complete the emotional connection and, without that emotional connection, why burn up the precious seconds until you find yourself, inevitably, in the fires of Hell? Then there was Sara Mitra. A princess of Pimms drinking cool. Elegant in her phrasing she knows the story and how to tell it. She walks surefootedly through “Life On A Look” like her heels were truly designed for the cobbles of life. Oh Lord, why have I started finger snapping?
Surrounding yourself with many a man of lineage helps her create the platform to dance the merry dance with her voice only Sara Mitra isn’t so merry. She sings like a torch singer. “Let Me Love You” proves that as does “The Old Country”. I want to dance with her. Dance with her until the dawn intrudes upon her enchantment.
Hell hath no heroes, or so they say. That mighty slab of vinyl that is “April Song” says otherwise.