It Don't Mean A Thing If It

It's Like An Act Of Murder - You Play With Intent To Commit Something.

I Fluffed Off The Guy Who Kept Requesting Tunes All Night, Then Found Out He Was The King's Son.

Tomorrow Is In The Wings Waiting For You To Sound Her Entrance Fanfare.

The Common Root, Of Course, Comes Out Of Africa. That's The Pulse.the African Pulse. It's All The Way Back From . . . The Old Slave Chants And Up Through The Blues, The Jazz, And Up Through Rock. And It's All Got The African Pulse.

There Are Two Kinds Of Worries - Those You Can Do Something About And Those You Can't. Don't Spend Any Time On The Latter.