“Jazz musician found himself standing in front of a building. He stepped in and was greeted with smoke and noise made by people smoking & drinking. And the music! In the back of the bar he entered was a stage where a band was playing some jazz. Curiously, he walked further. Jazz musician couldn’t believe his eyes. On the stage playing were all his jazz heroes, playing the best music he had ever heard!
When he got to the front of the stage, somebody handed him a saxophone, prompting him to join the show. At first he was reluctant to perform with the greatest minds in the history of jazz, but not wanting to miss the opportunity, he stepped on the stage to play a solo.
And oh boy, how did he play! He seemed to hit all the right notes at the exact time. He had groove and grace. He made the saxophone whimper and scream. It was a solo, he had only dreamt of playing. He was on fire!
After a lenghty solo, jazz musician bowed for the cheering audience and stepped back while others were doing their solos. He was ecstatic. He was in a hip joint, playing music he loved with some of the best musicians who had ever lived. While wiping his sweaty forehead, he thought that if this was hell, he really didn’t mind.
The song they were playing kept going and going. After performing his third solo, jazz musician started to get little bored. He noticed a lead sheet lying on the piano, and asked the player next to him: ‘Where’s the coda?’.
‘There is no coda’, the player replied.”
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The song title that reminded me of the joke was of course NEVERENDING POP ENDING. Pop, not jazz. But pop.
