Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette, Gary Peacock

are some kind of celestial triumvirate. Listening their 'Standards Live' recording, little pockets of light push up between the spaces, illuminating everything they play in a weightless glow. On this record at least his achievement is not gravitas, but a kind of transcendent ease that is buoyant to the earth-bound.

The Old Religion

I have a bad habit, which is a kind of a Catholic retention, which happens when someone asks, or I ask what do I think about music, or what is my place in this as a south-east asian, as a guitar player, as an immigrant, as an American, what do I think about the great living tradition of African-American improvised music, or European classical music, and what is my place in them? And how am I a part of the contemporary society of professionals and journeymen who have dedicated themselves to this music, as a Chinese person, as an educated person, as an atheist, as a human being who loves human beings?

At this point all I can think of is to get down on my knees and say 'what kind of fucking question is that, I am incapable of asking let alone knowing. I am not worthy.' I shouldn't; professing not to know is as absurd as professing to know, like asking 'What are we?' where the what and the are and the we are equally incomprehensible. I have a kind of provisional answer consisting mostly of notes and sketches on manuscript paper. Music contains many elements of living, but only really answers the one question 'Are we?' The answer is yes.