You see that boy over there? With the horn? I bet you think he sounds rough, playing that same tired scale, trenching in them bad habits like forcing and tonguing.
I tell you what. He’s born of this city, of this ward. He may not know Buddy Bolden from Adam, but that don’t matter. That boy stands on the porch all day. He don’t quit.
One day some old man walk by and hear him, take him under his wing and teach him all the mysteries. Why? Because that boy already got what can’t be taught.
He got the fire.