There aren't many better ways to access the magic and mystery of existence than dreaming. My all time favorite came to me this summer. I was out behind a farmhouse somewhere at twilight. A cow grazed in a field. He wore a vest made of acorns. Girls in uniforms wandered past, offering loaves of warm bread. A dog in a harness pulled a wagon filled with sleeping fawns.
It began with a whisper of rain. You could hear wind in the leaves, trees creaking, a distant roll of thunder. The band took the stage and just started making noises, reacting to each other, exploring the pleasures of sound.
I just downloaded the new Cassandra Wilson album, "Loverly," and I cannot recommend it highly enough. It’s an album of standards, morphed into Wilson’s own hypnotic creations. My favorite tune after two listens -- “Dust my Broom.” Gary Giddins’ profile in the New Yorker omits the mention of “Blue Skies,” Wilson's first inventive album of standards. "Loverly" is natural, elegant, open. I love it.