Mixtapes

Audio / Video files of songs mentioned in this story are collected here.

He decorated the centre of the table with a pharmaceutical jar in which a pair of embryonic chickens seemed to be dancing Nijinsky's choreography for The Spectre of the Rose.

When I played the "Black and Tan Fantasy" I got a really crazy concoction.

'I'm going to try an improvisation on "Loveless Love,"' said Chick.  'That should be fantastic.'

I would like to advise Mr. Colin, sir, to choose something with feeling - something like "Chloe" in an arrangement by Duke Ellington, or the "Concerto for Johnny Hodges" ... Something that they might call sultry or moody on the other side of the Atlantic.

... (Father Phigga) then grabbed a double-bass and with his bow gave a fabulous solo based on variations on the main theme from the Bridal March.

Father Phigga and his stony henchmen, stopped going around in circles, went to the head of the procession and then singing a gay-old Gregorian chant, made a dash for the door.

The others stood on the steps and watched the Minstrels go off  -  because they were all badly in debt they were being taken away in a black van, whose hooter played the tune "Maria."

There was something unearthly in the way Johnny Hodges played.  Something inexplicable, yet perfectly sensual.  Sensuality in its purest state, quite separate from anything physical.
The corners of the room softened and curved with the music.  Colin and Chloe were now lying in the centre of a sphere.
'What was that ?' asked Chloe.
'It was "Mood to be Wooed."' said Colin.
'That's just how I felt' said Chloe. 
'But how will the doctor be able to get in here with a shape like this?'

... 'The room's round!'
'Completely round?' asked the professor.  'Have you been playing an Ellington record then?'
... 'Do you know "Slap Happy?"'

'Do you know any Duke Ellington? ...' said Colin.
'Yes,' said the junctiquitarian.  'I'll play "Blues of the Vagabond."'

'Shall I play "Misty Morning?"' suggested the junctiquitarian.  'Does that make a good mixture?' 

'Yes,' said Colin.  It makes something terrific.  A pearl-grey mint green cocktail, tasting of peppery smoke.'

Next he played 'Blue Bubbles' and stopped because he found he was playing two notes at once, and Colin was hearing four different tunes at the same time.

The porters stopped near a big hole.  They began to swing Chloe's coffin, singing "Roll Me Over."

The voices of eleven little girls, coming in a crocodile from the Orphanage of Pope John the Twenty-Third, could be heard getting nearer.  They were singing.  And they were blind.