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Brian McMillen, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Bill Evans at the Montreux Jazz Festival; July 13, 1978
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Plane to Italy
…….For Bill Evans
A hazy clip from Finnish TV,
the year he died
Shot in a dimly-lit studio
Evans has just finished a concert and the interviewer,
reverently holds an oversized microphone
up to this world-weary gentle werewolf with blue pilot sunglasses
hunched over the piano bench, smoking and rocking gently
while the crew noisily breaks down the set around them
In a thoughtful New Jersey accent, Evans reflects on
working with Miles, his new trio –
“There’s no talking, it’s all done musically,”
and listening to his old recordings
His mane of chestnut hair, long and wavy,
no longer restrained with the Brylcreem of the 1960s
he muses about how they always use serious pictures, never smiling
Politely, he thanks the interviewer and
slowly rises from the bench
Another voice asks if he has time for a few more questions.
We have to run to catch a plane to Italy
It’s too late, I’m sorry.
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Watch the Bill Evans interview
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No swing to that poem at all… it’s like thoughts on a notepad, nada mas…But whatever. I like the Brylcreem ref