Liminal Jazz Café #1: A Playlist Review

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Somewhere in the dim-lit trenches of late capitalism, where the WiFi signals hum like distant highway ghosts and the coffee tastes like broken dreams, *Liminal Jazz Café #1* drifts in like a long-forgotten radio transmission from a world that may or may not exist. A playlist for the existentially fatigued, the melancholically amused—music for men who have seen things they cannot unsee and women who laugh in the face of doom, then order another round.  

We open with **Tony Fruscella’s "Metropolitan Blues"**, a trumpet tone so smooth it could lull a man into surrender. Not defeat—surrender. There’s a difference. Then **Monk and Mulligan** arrive with *‘Round Midnight*—a song that doesn’t just play, it lingers, like a streetlight flickering on a fogged-up window. It’s music for 3 AM diners, for the last cigarette in the pack, for people who should’ve gone home but didn’t.  

Then comes **Stan Getz**, rolling in with *Love Is Here to Stay (Alternate Take)*, and suddenly, life almost feels like it matters. But it doesn’t. Not really. Enter **Jimmy Giuffre’s "Two Kinds of Blues"**, which suggests there might be more than two. Maybe there are infinite kinds, or maybe it’s all just the same thing in different suits.  

**Lennie Tristano’s "Becoming"** sounds like it knows something you don’t. A piano unraveling itself in cold precision, the ghost of logic guiding every note. It doesn’t care if you understand. **Herb Geller’s "Marable Eyes"** plays like a forgotten detective novel—a soundtrack for whiskey breath and bad decisions.  

And then there’s **Lee Konitz’s "Fishin’ Around"**, a song that feels like killing time in a city where you don’t belong. It’s followed by **Billy Bauer’s "Blue Mist"**, a track so cool it might slip through your fingers if you’re not careful. The kind of tune that plays when you’re waiting for something, but you don’t know what.  

We close with **The Modern Jazz Quartet’s "Delaunay’s Dilemma"**, which is a question mark set to music. A track that leaves you floating, not quite here, not quite gone. The neon still hums. The drink is still half-full.  

A playlist for the liminal, for those suspended between meaning and the void. Play it loud. Or don’t. The universe doesn’t care.