Circular Breathing

Google Street View Image - 
The Market Cafe in The French Quarter, New Orleans

We sat at a corner table on the outside patio, munching muffaletta sandwiches, soaking in the humid rays of the New Orleans sun, and watching our fellow tourists take in the sights of the French Quarter.  A live band was providing the soundtrack to our first afternoon on vacation.  The bass thrumbed a mellow rhythm while the keyboard punched out a few punctuated and irregular notes, and the saxophone moaned harmoniously. Overall, the scene was languid and satisfying.  Glenn and I chattered aimlessly for a while, but our conversation faded away as another sound dominated the scene.  The moaning of the saxophone had turned into a lament. One long note, lasting well beyond one minute, insisted on our attention.   

I never thought of Carlos Santana's Europa as a love song, although you can find it on their Love Songs compilation album.  I guess maybe I had heard too many lounge lizard versions of the song to really appreciate the level of emotion that those crooning notes can inspire.  Santana's version is brilliant, of course.  The electric guitar is a great instrument for delivering sustained and textured tones.  But, the saxophone we heard that day in the French Quarter conveyed a passion unmatched by Santana's guitar.  The band was called The Jazz Cats.  The saxophonist was a small elderly black man with cataracts the color of the sky.  His music seemed to resonate decades of a hard life, sharing the sharp pain of loss as well as the joyful hope for love.  The peak of his emotion is felt with that one long-lasting note, during which his breath wavers but never weakens or fades.  Instead, his breath strengthens with time, and the song becomes more contemplative. I believe the effect is a powerful metaphor for love and life.  For this reason, Glenn and I have adopted it as "our song."

After we finished our lunch that day, Glenn and I asked if we could buy the band's CD.  This request apparently came as a bit of a surprise to them.  I ended up sitting in the keyboardist's truck with him while he scrolled through the songs on the album, scrawling the titles on a random index card with a thick black marker.  A couple of years later, Hurricane Katrina blew through the city, and I worry about the fate of the saxophonist.  I wish that I could share his version of Europa with you as a Valentine's Day present, but I don't know how to reach any of the band members to get their permission.  So, I decided to tell you their story instead.  If you want to hear the song behind the story, you'll just have to visit us in some far away romantic location! 

Happy Valentine's Day!