Two notes after a night of free jazz
The best moments are like watching people decorate a Christmas tree that’s spinning at 400 rpm, with every bauble hung for a moment before it zings off to explode against the club wall in a glittering shower of spicules of red glass
The moment of shock when, deep inside a knockout whirling solo, you could hear “My Favorite Things,” far down, the way you can see a wonderful simian monkey-trace in the big beautiful face of Jean-Paul Belmondo