...water laughing softly down a black stone wall.
Beneath the violet pillar, in the vacuum before the roar of the cloud, there came a soft sound that might have been heard by those who listened closely: the gentle sigh of an idea unbound.
A superb tenor voice, like a silver trumpet muffled in silk.
Jazz music is to be played sweet, soft, plenty rhythm.
The soft contralto notes of a woman's voice are born in the immediate region of the heart.
With my trumpet voice, I love gritty, plunger, growly sounds. But vocally, I love Anita O'Day - a raspier but definitely softer sound. Part of the fun has been finding vehicles or writing for both of those sounds.
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes.
Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
