Joe Stuckey - My Sociology

The drummer introduces the sax player with perfect precision, as clean as the front room that we’ve been sweeping the pine needles off. Everything is put away, wine is poured, and we smile at the memories we’ve allowed to walk over the neurons while we eartasted deeply. “She carries the cross of the burning road” while the piano and bass accent the dream. “I’m going to cut a slice off my woman’s heart/give me the salt and pass me a knife.” Traditions run deep in the soul. Pain becomes pleasure in the hand of a powerful drummer that knows when to accent, when to vamp and when to pound the skins off. Joe Stuckey