Procissao by Bill Frisel, from the album The Intercontinentals

You arrive on an island just as the sun is setting. Perhaps you were dropped off by small plane or perhaps you came by boat. Or maybe you were transported here by a dream. It’s hot but there is a nice breeze and you enjoy the scent of the saltwater. Then you hear a band strike up a tune. Where does that come from? Is there a stage beyond that hill? You climb up through sand. The music sounds like so many different things… samba and bluegrass, blues and folk music. A man sings in Brazilian Portuguese, then another man sings in Arabic, or maybe that’s an Indian language. It’s getting dark as you get to the top and look down. There is indeed a stage and a big sound system but there is no band. As you get closer the song ends and then you find a CD player that is plugged into the sound system.