Good Morning Blues will be my early morning notepad. It is the result of the time I spend in a bus to get to my office. This time is long enough for listening to usually a jazz record (to be exact from 6:25 AM to 7:10 AM) and shape my thoughts about the tunes and artists while I'm looking at the window and dig the first efforts of people for getting out of beds and being back on the streets.
This morning iPod was playing "New jazz conceptions", Bill Evans's first record under his own name. A collection of songs for trio and occasionally solo instrumentation.
In the bus, when the day hasn’t arrived completely and darkness is fading from east section of town, and spent colors of autumn mixed with hazy colors of early morning winters, listening to Bill's first record is exactly like observing a morning rises from darkness and thick mist of a long cold night.
He was in the same age as I, when he went to Riverside studios to cut 11 songs for his new conceptions. Yet the music isn't mature enough, but the spirit is complete. Even one can hear Waltz for Debby in the album but without that spontaneous swing of his latter ground-breaking performance.
I'm in the hardest days of my life, but I think I can go on with Bill in the mornings and Hawk at nights.
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