It Don't Mean a Thing

By: Roger Hansford

 

                    It don’t mean a thing if . . .
                    you don’t say strawberry, strawberry, strawberry.
                    Apple, apple, apple rhythms just aren’t jazz, she said:
 
                    drawing attention to her pink drag-queen shoes;
                    disciplining the drummer; telling the xylophone player,
                    for the umpteenth time, to ‘take the C and F off’.
 
*
 
                    It felt like playing on the moon. The drum kit a lander,
                    drop-kicking towards me over the stage; brass bursts
                    swirling sexily like inter-stellar winds.
 
                    Just which two bars were we on? The beat
                    nearly beat me up in Harlem (Nocturne);
                    took me down the street and . . .
                                round the corner, as
 
                    we patrolled with the Americans, and
                    sang with a nightingale in Berkley Square.
                    I was just a stranger on the shore.
 
                    Was it my fault they hardly clapped?
                    We played the encore anyway, in Blues Brothers hats.
                    At last, we were Home, Sweet, Home (Chicago).
 
*
 
                    Trouble is, I just ain’t got that swing.
                    I listened to Classic FM on the way home.