On Sunday, we went to the Jazz Festival at Trinity High School. It was clear and sunny and the music was surprisingly good. By surprisingly good, I mean that it wasn’t really polished or overly professional and that made it more enjoyable to me. I think it’s easy to forget that music doesn’t come out of machines sounding perfect. It comes out of people struggling to hit notes and breathing hard after a trumpet solo and squeaking the guitar strings and they whisk their fingers to the next chord position. I think I’d rather sit ten feet away from a pretty good high school jazz musician than listen to Miles Davis on my iPod.
