| JACKIE'S BAG Jackie McLean, hip, fearsome, and mean, he swung it like nobody else; He stood all alone, with that bittersweet tone, owing nobody, only himself. With his furious attack he could take you back to the beauty of Yardbird’s song, but that solemn moan made it all his own, as burning passion flowed lush from his horn. Hearing Love and Hate made Jazz my fate, joyous anguish dripped blue from his song; He both smiled and cried and dug deep-down inside, until the innocence of my childhood was gone. He took me to a place that had no face, I was so young when I heard his sweet call, but he parted the fog and in no time at all A child of bebop sprung forth, soul enthralled. From his message, that sound--sweet-blue and profound, Childish eyes now saw as a man; I stood totally perplexed, But I couldn’t hold back, A hungering mind to expand. I saw Charlie and Lester, and a smiling young Dexter, as I peered into Jackie's sweet horn; It was a place that I knew, though I'd never been to, but a place that I now call my home. Eric L. Wattree, Sr. wattree.com |
| On March 31, 2006, Jackie McLean, one of the great innovators in jazz and the alto saxophone left this Earth. So I’d like to take this moment to thank Jackie for all of the beauty and insight that he brought into my life, and I'd also like to thank God for allowing him to walk among us: |
