As a “Fox Trot”:
As a “Blues”:
Willie “the Lion” Smith, in 1935, with Ed Allen, Cecil Scott, and Willie Williams, feels it too:
Clarence Williams feels the breeze, but it’s a very slow sad one (with Ed Allen, Cecil Scott, Floyd Casey:
And, on an Edison cylinder, the Premier Quartet:
And perhaps a century later — in our century (2014), Ray Skjelbred and his Cubs celebrate those very same zephyrs:
It was a hit song in 1919, and it stays in our minds today. Is it that it is so easy to sing, with whole notes and easily remembered steps up and down the scale? I don’t know. Perhaps the spirit of Zephyrus is ready to animate us at any moment. I hope so.
My title comes from another place — a John Cheever story, “The Jewels of the Cabots,” where after the narrator’s father and mother have had their ritual Sunday argument about his inability to carve the roast, this passage emerges:
She would sigh once more and put her hand to her heart. Surely this was her last breath. Then, studying the air above the table, she would say, “Feel that refreshing breeze.”
Would it spoil the effect for JAZZ LIVES readers to know that Cheever’s narrator then states, ruefully or realistically, that there was seldom a breeze.
But there is always BREEZE.
May your happiness increase!