‘Jazz is dead.’

As soon as those asinine three words left the lips of local jazz-and-trilby enthusiast, Marcus DeRamsay (22), the circle of friends around him began a series of reactions that can only be described as a firm blend of disgust, pity, and frustration.

They hid their reactions well, however. But what wasn’t hidden well was Marcus’ clear belief that jazz was alive, sexy, erotic, and fun - despite the fact he claimed it was dead. After he uttered ‘...jazz is dead,’ he paused for effect, before suggesting ‘...but I want to get inside it. I want to know it. I want to be it.’

Marcus must be a genuine necrophiliac to claim something is dead and then proclaim to his twelve key brothers (the name he has for his friends) that he ‘wants to get inside it.’

Further undercutting Marcus’ claim was the fact he had a trumpet in his hands at that very moment, and his friends had begrudgingly gathered with him at a jazz bar, ‘Jazzity Jip Jop Jazz, Wickham Terrace,’ so he could perform at a jazz open mic.

Whilst his friends love supporting Marcus, and no-one can deny he is an eminently talented trumpet player, there is a certain desire amongst key stakeholders that Marcus would just let go of the incessant claim that ‘jazz is dead,’ when it seems he’s doing everything he can to keep it alive. And sexy.

Probably more to come, if The Obiter’s jazz editor has his way.