It was Friday, July 19th, 1991
We were at The Royal Festival Hall and had the best seats in the house — that, at least, our pockets could afford.
But we weren’t seated for long.
As soon as Miles stepped onto the stage, we went wild, immediately jumping to attention, whooping, cheering and whistling homage to one of the greatest jazz trumpeters who had ever lived.
I can’t remember the entire list that he played, but I remember how watching him live made me feel.
He wasn’t into theatrics and famously wouldn’t pander to the audience, but as avid fans, we expected this — it only added to the cool, badass image he exuded.
He strutted around the stage, horn down, forehead frowned and glistening, intensely focused on producing ‘that’ timbre — achingly beautiful, intense yet somehow soft and vulnerable.
He seemed tired (little did we know it was to be one of his last performances), but his rhythmic ‘phrasing’ — sometimes pulsing, other times extended, his astute use of silence — was flawless.
And then just occasionally, he’d direct his trumpet towards the audience — more silence, deliberate tension — to even louder whoops of appreciation.
We were in the presence of a master, and it felt exhilarating.
As a musician myself, I often note parallels between music and writing, and specifically, some of the techniques we can learn from to enhance our writing.
Here are four of my favourites, with tips on how to write with flair.