I'm listening

This morning the radio plays piano, McCoy Tyner, accompanied on vibes by Bobby Hutchinson. It occurs to me that the piano is a muddy, ranging sludge which only takes form when the oscillating bars of the vibraphone sound their resonant vibrato call, and like a limitless line of type without comma, ellipsis or stop, the vibraphone offers a kind of punctuation that adds rhythm to text and thus meaning.