“He heard the rhythmic troubling obscenities of saxophones.”William Faulkner, Soldier’s PayI met Wayne Shorter in a dreamsomewhere in a sunny club,light pouring through the windows,bouncing off the beach,slinging diamonds off eachcresting wave. He smiled,picked up his tenorand started playing Footprints,the repetition of the riffbecoming a prayer, notesblending with the waves, therhythm becoming a chant,the shore... Continue Reading →