Britta Wolfert

Good minus 35 C Morning!

Here's to dry firewood, cedar kindling and empty pasta boxes to start a fire atop last night's hot coals on a chill morning for a beloved, drafty log home..

Taking stock from yesterday:

Hamburg called in the morning, so 90 minutes later I am behind my self inflicted schedule, but so wonderful to catch up with family! Life happens. Meals need be prepared, daily chores tended to.. although wouldn't it be nice to just create without responsibilities knocking..? I am grateful. My better half Jeff is very supportive. Being a writer himself, he understands the importance of  private time.

On Day 2  ample time was spent doing piano work, which allowed me to 'get in the zone', connecting for the first time head and fingers to create the skeleton for a tune, written with an old friend in mind who passed away unexpectedly last November. Tom was the ultimate Jazz connoisseur, listener, audience, critique and icon at Jazz Matinee, no matter where it took place in Sault Ste Marie throughout the past decades... I called on his long time friend Ron to remind me what  his favourite drink was, and a few other details which I weaved into the lyrics of the song skeleton. So, on Day 3, trying to trade perfection for authenticity, I recorded the very first take  of 'Here comes Tom' ~ accompanied by very basic guitar, amplified by our very trusty Fender Acoustasonic - 30, for both mic & guitar ~ with ye olde IPhone5 and converted from Mp4  to WAV to be added to today's page. Channeling a basic  blues with Bessie Smith in mind.. So here's the raw debut, just for you!! Raise a glass of Rum and Pepsi with a twist of lime for Tom, will ya? 

 Here comes Tom (Wyatt)                   by Britta Wolfert                                                                       2021-02-08 

Look out here comes Tom 4x                                                                                                                                            Strike up the Jazz, play Honeysuckle Rose                                                                                                                        Look out, here comes Tom 

Same table same night                                                                                                                                                          It has got to be right                                                                                                                                                              When Tom walks through that door 

He wears his Fedora                                                                                                                                                              Come hell or high water                                                                                                                                                        There ain’t no need to be more 

He’s a sophisticated man                                                                                                                                                      A Jazz music fan                                                                                                                                                                    And moving swiftly - on the dance floor 

Diet Pepsi and Rum                                                                                                                                                              And a twist of lime                                                                                                                                                                Makes Tom quite happy and fine 

He needs no invitation                                                                                                                                                          To show up at the station                                                                                                                                                    His seat in front of the stage 

Jazz Matinee will miss him                                                                                                                                                  Now who will be listening?                                                                                                                                              Tom has left and turned the page 

He’s bought a ticket to the moon                                                                                                                                        Carrying a tune                                                                                                                                                                    Tom you’re much too sublime...