Ian Price

In a place where practice
becomes more than arpeggios and scales
Out beyond repetition
He stands square, framed in denim blue
Knee bopping, buzzing riffs
like a Coltrane locomotive
Torrents of notes
glissandos of sound played with phantom fingers
riding on the peaks of the waves, nailing notes
In frenetic time, splitting altissimo patterns repeat
a symbiotic rolling and tumbling
ghost movements cascading, rippling
billowing into the depths of deep river sound
Jiving and flirting with genres of the blues

Bernard Alvarez May 2014