Various events occur that broaden the horizons of one’s thinking to the next level.
During this trip to Fukuoka, it was at a jazz cafe that Google’s algorithm had mistakenly directed me to.
That cafe was quite “incongruous.”
Two rows of box-shaped shelves stretched horizontally, and the items filling them were as follows: at the far left were about 100 LPs (probably jazz); in the middle were Gin of unknown origin; at the far right were papers that looked like talismans and on the shelves, albums featuring the faces of each member of the New Jeans were lined up harmoniously.
And it was wonderful.
The café au lait and cheesecake were delicious, as were the handmade coffee made using only a bean grinder, the posters plastered on the walls that captured the cafe’s unique character, and the music flowing from the JBL speakers through the LPs on the turntable. I didn’t know what that soft, plucking melody felt like when a David T. Walker album was played on the turntable. Until then, I had never felt a strong attraction to the guitar in jazz, nor did I have any memorable jams. Personally, I hadn’t really felt the harmony that the guitar’s role provides in an ensemble, and perhaps because of the cool breeze brushing past as I crossed between the doors facing me from a distance, it was a day when the sound of the guitar felt beautiful.