NYU Black Renaissance Noire Spring 2015 - Page 106

JAZZ PORTRAIT FROM THE POND, BROOKLYN, NY Some us are named for what we are at first cry — Diallo House, bassist, the one who builds the foundation of the groove, bold shelter. Locks to his ass, diamond-tipped tentacles crawling up and down our spines. Upright gentlemen that pulls out melody’s chair, lights her Newport…he knows how long and how strong to pluck, strike and slide. Every day he spoons with a big, curvy body surrendering to what he has to give, and he never disappoints. He knows what to do with all of that, teasing string and wood to moan secrets and send us easy into the bottomless night. Love to watch that tall diva and player with the hands of a working man, dance. How she leans into him, the sweet trigger thrumming her midriff. His lips curl like her carved head above the stem and we lean back. The after-hours life sculpts shoulders that have brushed up against the greats