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House Of Jazz and Blues

Kenneth Austin

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Kenneth Austin 21st century musician, who has played with the most talented bands in brooklyn new york, Kenneth Austin was born in brooklyn new york and have played with some of the major top bands, Kenneth who comes from a family of musicians, Austin has mastered the compositions of blues and jazz, not only he has played at BB kings, when I say top sheff, that is what I mean, he has accompanyed the magnificient Black Velvet in many of his shows, Kenneth again is the most dynamic drummer I have ever met and gigged with, , Kenneth have played with musicians such; as Melvin Williams, Jimmy Hill Al Starz band, such as Wayne Betancourt, Bass, received Bass Player of the Year Award.. Chango Jackson, Drums, formally with Roy Ayers. Bobby Watson, Percussionist and Vocalist, formally with Bimbo Jet. Randy Gaffaney, Guitar, formally with Clarence Carter. Arthur Green, Saxophone, formally with the Intruders. Hoe Williams, Saxophone, formally with Baby Washington. Charles Waldron, Trumpet, formally with Wilson Pickett. Jimmy Hill , Keyboards and Vocalist, formally with the Intruders. Kenneth Austin have performed at the Apollo Theater , Long Island Blues Festival, N.Y, , Starlight Lounge, Denver Co., The Barn, Hillsborough, N.C., Red Hook Music Festival, Brooklyn, N.Y., The Brownstone, Patterson, N.J. They have been the house band at the Essence Club And Restaurant for the past year, and can be seen there every Sunday night, located on Atlantic Ave, corner of Troy Ave. Brooklyn, N.Y.

Kenny the most dynamic drummer I ever had the pleasure of meeting, a strong supporter of all musicians and singers in the Brooklyn historians of blues and soul, I find Kenneth to be one of the most dedicated musician I have ever met, Kenny stands to the right of Randy known as lefty in the music world who plays the bass guitar there is know words that can document the talented stars of Brooklyn the contribution to the black revolution of Blues and Jazz, In this misty night, I take another direction into the midnight blues, and the off sets of the light makes me undress the cotton club and its heights, so if I sit for a moment to figure out, what image shall possess my mike in its own delight, midnight blues that wear its on fragrance of love, and the mighty horns that suffice the skies, and the flowers that gives of the spirits that once pledge through the night, listen and you shall hear the voice of the past, When Kenny hits the drum, a roll call sits off, a mile Davis appears, and the James brown drummer reflects the house of the 40’s, when I think of Kenneth Austin, I begin to sing, Mama I want to sing, Bessie smith begins to grown At Last my love has come along, and the sweet smell of Lena Horn play that jazz, and the mountain to freedom when she walked through the front door, I sit with my horn, blowing on until the morning dawn, emphasize with the sound of black Jazz, I herd a hum above the moon, I played the script until my fingers bleed, oh the sway of the jazz, completely took me to another side of town, Droning a drowsy syncopated note, tapping my feet to the beat, a bottle of bud, and figurate indulge, but their was no interaction in my solitude of jazz, Louie Armstrong, don’t blame me if I skip a beat Billy sing the blues, high hill shoes, flower that Dazzle as she sings the blues, I crossed the river when the monk took a glitter, and the horn blue without it touching my lip.

I bend down and the crowd began to cry, play that horn until the air is no more, the location that I stood before the crowd, and the blue lights were flickering as I cry out loud, Louie play that shit, play that shit, as he swayed to the left I swayed to the right… The songs of the weary blues, begin To sing its own words, down at the lounge The blue tent house, and the old lantern And the soufflé of the night, Gold chains, pen strip garments that lingered To the floor, high top pants, and glitter tops, As the people dance the camel walk, down at the cotton club, where down in the mist of Harlem light. My man don’t love me no more, Sarah von with the flower in her hair, decked out with her divas dress, Smoked in a furnace, as the jazz band play, do that shit , do that shit, cried out all night. I blew my horn and tap my feet, the sound of jazz Need not my lips, as the night went on, the spirit of jazz did its own thing.