
Working for the liberation of all beings everywhere. Bringing higher consciousness to the planet, one eternal moment at a time.
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They said angels don’t swing.
They said jazz couldn’t pray.
They were wrong on both counts.
This album is not a performance — it’s a transmission.
Each track, a coded visitation from higher spheres, translated into rhythm, tone, and breath.
These are not just songs. These are signals.
The Tree of Life resonates in modal runs,
in seventh chords played with reverence,
in brushes that barely kiss the skin of the snare.
The trumpet calls like a watcher on the threshold.
The saxophone drapes the soul in veils of Binah.
The bass walks between worlds.
The piano spells secret names in syncopated fire.
This is angelic work — but not the harp-strumming, halo-polishing kind.
This is rough-winged, sweat-soaked jazz communion,
where heavenly beings show up at the club in hush-puppy shoes and shades,
ready to riff on the divine.
For the jazz aficionado —
Each note — a visitation.
Each solo — a descent.
Let the music carry you.
Let it interrupt your ordinary day.
Let it stir the thing in you that remembers eternity in the God State.
Because this is what happens
when the angels pick up instruments
and say…
“Let’s play.”