“listen to me, you need to play that accent with a stronger emphasis and place a soft daecrescendo after each of those notes, it’s jazz, make it sound that way!”

you were a college jazz student, and your instructor, well she wasn’t exactly the most soft spoken nor the most gentle with her critique, with her cigarette addiction she had a voice which while rude and completely belittling, was dark and soft in a way that could melt a man’s heart in a second, it was impossible to understand how she felt about you, as her star tenor sax player you often felt a closer relationship to her than most of the ensemble but still, you were the one most prone to her criticism.

after a long practice, she asked you to stay behind to help you work on your solo, but her smoky tone of voice never really helped as while she spoke, the cigarette smoke is floating across the room and the butts lined her stand which held the score, over and over she demanded new things and you tried your hardest to be perfect for her but you couldn’t exactly do it right, she sighs and pulls up a chair next to you, exhaling a puff of smoke as she lights a new cigarette, now looking at you and holding her musical score, sharon was cold yet always completely beautiful, yes, it was impossible to focus on her.

“that triplet in measure 32 could use some work, your posture needs it too actually, god, for my best player you’re quite a real hassle to deal with, look at me, you need some improvement, maybe some more one on one practices are in order to get improvement, now, from the top!”