I am sitting in a nice jazz lounge with a couple of friends, listening to the music. More than music. The interplay of acoustic guitar, upright bass, alto saxophone, and a soft sweet voice. Back and forth improvisation between the sax and the bass. Heavenly sounds.
It occurs to me that jazz was the first music I loved as a child. I never really understood it completely, so I often wondered if I could really claim that musical space the same way that a true jazz aficionado might. Maybe I just wasn’t listening correctly. But, I could still feel the music running through me like it was second nature.
As I sit here listening to this, I finally get it. Jazz, the music of the soul. The many layers of music, each player playing their own thing, but in support of each other. I can tune out everyone else but one player, or I can hear all three players distinctly, at the same time.
As a person with Aspergers, I now get it. My mind needs to process five things at once, sometimes each thing is proceeding at its own pace, but at the same time, in conjunction with everything else. That’s jazz. That’s planned improvisation (must be planned since I can never actually turn off to let things just happen on their own).
Jazz was my first love. Jazz is how my mind works, though much more orderly. Jazz takes me into those places that aren’t quite as orderly.