He had a thick accent I couldn't place, and
played a gorgeous sax. I don't even like the saxophone, much preferring the
trumpet, but I'll admit he played it hot. Sometimes his hands didn't seem to
move at all on the keys, as he arched his back and screwed up his face and
pushed out the music.
His face would get red when he played, deep in
a solo. It almost looked like it hurt to play, to breathe: pushing out all
that air, tense and relaxed, glowing.