“Floating Performance,” by Ed Coletti
I suppose what it is with trane and me is
he takes all the time he wants to take
even outside of time, sidereal time,
stardust time, bessie blue time,
trancey groove time, even arranged time.
The duke laying down stevie blocks,
trane ain’t gonna be no mortar here
he gonna weave a kinda mesh
round duke’s work, trane lacing
duke’s solidity with blue spirit,
blues spirit. duke hears it, stays
near it, layin’ stevie blocks
now playing trane blocks, the duke
in-spired, layin’ down trane blocks.
Then comes slo-trane’s pleasing
molasses blue invention and
no one makes new like coltrane,
the original organic cat and not such
he resonates—that’s it—we get trane,
that why trane — is — trane.
you hear a bass soloing, wherever
that bass is echoing, whoever
that bass, he echoing trane
that what jazz all about.
If the drum set belong to tootie heath or to
philly joe jones, it don’t matter. they both
coltrane without his horn, c’est la vie, man,
trane be something else, something like
deity ethereal night, man. I mean you take
nancy, you give her a lavender face
so she be nancy with the laughing face.
what you got be only coltrane stirring
something delicious in his pot,
coltrane doing nancy, no need explaining
her gleeful countenance, you dig?
trane, hey, he got no need to wreck the show.
John Coltrane plays “Afro Blue”