“Don’t play what’s there. Play what isn’t there.”
–Miles Davis
It sounds so easy when Miles says it
Be cool risk everything shoot up push the edge make great art
Art we still talk about in wonder after fifty years
But it’s not that easy, playing what isn’t there
You have to practice, practice, practice; replay some big mistake
Over and over — like that time in junior high
When the cool guys tortured the weird kid
The one who always had to touch the wall
When he went from class to class
And you kept your mouth shut
Play that kid, that kid, that kid killed himself
And play you, you, you kept your mouth shut
You weren’t there, you were afraid to lose your spot in the coolness order
Play that riff, over and over
That kid might have been a great
Astrophysicist, astronaut, president, doctor, poet, musical genius
He might have been hearing unbelievable jazz symphonies
Miles, before anyone else could hear
Some weird Bitch’s Brew that shook his OCD soul
So he had to hang on to the wall to keep from flying away
Maybe he had to pay the price, the price, the price
For playing what wasn’t there
