Ambrose Akinmusire

MUSE ? the times have simplified the concept of the muse to mean another human being, a woman if you are a man and vice a versa.... what a shame. yes, the human MUSE of the other sex, is a delicious exalted muse which creates a myriad of emotions, which then find their way into your breath, your trumpet, your sound. but the MUSE has many forms and transformations. it is in that dark starless/moonless night, when the earth is silent, the human is asleep, and you happen to be under the sky, simply walking to your car... and then something happens, a moment of lucidity so clear that it scares you. the MUSE is in the words of a poet or writer who wrote a 100 years ago, and a friend makes you listen for a moment. the MUSE is in the way the light catches your partner's neck, in a speeding car, and for a moment you are captivated by magic and longing. the MUSE is in the colors, forms or entity you see in a piece of art work, in a book, in someone else's music, in the voice of a check-out clerk at the supermarket, it is in the raspy voice/music of Bjork, the anger in punk, the childlike in mozart. it is in that cold drink of water you pour down your throat when you are parched, that piece of food you bite into which fills you with more satisfaction/emotion than you would think it would be decent to admit. You tell me ?