{LYRICS}

Ken Nordine - Faces In The Jazzmatazz (1959)

What do they mean? The faces, in the night, looking, into the antique mirror, of jazz?

By what insistent instinct, do we crowd the smoking dark? And watch, with our sea shell ears, the pounding truth, break against the huge inchoate spirit of this biggest of the little cities.

And why do the stars of this spirits music, Shine with such intensity? Upon the double zero of our blinking eyes?

The questions multiple the mysteries.

Are we the face of get away from it all? Have another drink baby! Live it up! Lets have a ball .... before the great big all, goes up in fire and brimstone.

Make mine a double and short on the soda, clap hands in the reeling darkness and play lusty animal with the yeah, yeah, yeah, of drowning night.

You should have seen me when I stood on the table. And the bouncer came with his tuxedo, And the alcoholic air rocking with rolls of laughter after, While the ghost of dixie land gone white are crashing through the changes inside Saints Go Marching In.

One for the road and hiccup home to hangover.

Are we this face?

Are we the face of get there, get there, get there? Whose at the Blue Note? Whose at the Southerland? Somebody's opening at the London house? Grab a cab and seize upon the tock ticking, ticky tock.

Should I wear the mink?

Someone said something is happening at the Cloister Inn. And the long lines form, in front of the revolving door, of the spinning now, now, now.

Do I look all right? Keep the change,

I read in Down Beat, and the smoke rises above above the hub-bub as the cash register LP’s come alive.

Mr. & Mrs. Face, face up to an evening on the town, Twelve conventioneers accompanied by a driving rat ta ta tat become disciples of punch line pornography.

And expense accounts rise, in the falling jazz.

and a waiters feet hurt.

Something ends, and the applause begins. This clapping reward is bridge for the blues. Aren’t you glad you came? Aren’t you?

Are we this face?

Are we the face of I wonder, as I wander? Looking with the look that little children have, for that loving something?

For that joyous, what ever it is? For that delightful, I don't know what next? Tired of playing run sheepy run. And Follow The Leader.

The game we're looking for is looking for us.

And its called One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten Green Light.

A great big huge unbelievably infinitely big Go Sign For the biggest of the Littlest sleep walking cities. Where the dreamed we dream is just around, the imagined nightmares corner.

Come on along to renaissance, Which is anywhere you want it. Hope swings eternal and that's where everything is in the Jazzamatazz Chicago.

Don Quixote rides across the sprawl of us, in a crazy movie called the Mid Westerner. Gallops across jumping night where everyone waits to see where the real action is.

And we strike our matches against old Chicago midnight against anywheres midnight. Somewhere below the non-stop jets from New York to Hollywood

Hi stranger, are we this face?

All these faces and more and more we are. And the Truth is right in front of us, when our backs our turned.

So pick up your trumpet and play this. Doomsday boys and girls of dust, come blow your horn for Mr. Must.

Full circles roll in spiral down, into the fright of the thinnest town.