My lesson this week is still stewing in the realms of predictability.

We went to a concert by Omar Faruk Tekbilek, a master of turkish music. After Mark’s disdain of turkish chord structures and (should I say syncopation?), I spent some time thinking of how predictable American Blues seems in comparison, even jazz. The predictability gives the audience something to grab hold of, but is it perhaps disrespectful of the listener’s ability? Or is it a coat hanger by the door, allowing the listener to deposit the mind on its structure, freeing the verb of art to dance freely, unconstrained?

Haven’t come to conclusion yet.


Two days later — ok, I’ve decided. It’s the latter. And not just because I fear Paul deLay finding out that I called him lazy.

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