Noir Jazz | Smooth Trumpet | Lounge Music

Comments · 234

• ST

  @stillgonnarockyourworld2677 · 2 years ago (edited)

  One day I’m gonna open up my bar play this exact playlist and ask “rough night?” While I listen to people’s problem and I pour them a drink 🤌

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• GA

  @gantmj · 1 year ago

  It was raining in the city of Angels -- a hard rain -- almost hard enough to wash the slime from the streets. But it never does. When the rain stops, the boulevard dries and the snakes once again slink from their holes. That's when my door opens and the helpless, the desperate, walk through with a heart full of hurt and a pocket full of nothing.

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• PO

  @poundlandspeedwagonrequiem · 1 year ago

  Everyone is celebrating. You’ve cracked the case, but something’s wrong…

  120

• SQ

  @squidinkshimself · 1 year ago

  It was July 15th, 1956. City of Angels. A real scorcher outside. Even the shade had a temperature of 100 degrees. The fans cooling down my office weren’t nearly enough. The ice in my water glass  were completely melted. Then in walked the prettiest dame I had ever seen. Bleach blonde hair, blue eyes that cut through you like a knife. Legs for days. It was at that moment I realized trouble just walked through my door, but didn’t realize just how much those blue eyes had seen.

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• CO

  @cocktailhotel · 2 years ago

  I've been a professional and private bartender here in Los Angeles for 40 years. This music is how I feel when I'm working late at night in Hollywood. If there's ever a place to gain experience and knowledge gathering intel while preparing a well-made cocktail for various guests from all over the world, it's right here in the biggest small town in America.

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• SC

  @Schale.kivotos · 1 year ago

  1957 Los Angeles. Stone cold asphalt, neon haze, and a city that never forgives. The kind of place where dreams come cheap and memories cost everything.<br><br>I pour the bourbon slow. Let it slide down like fire, sweet at first, then bitter, sharp enough to make me remember everything I’ve tried to forget. The only thing in this damned city that’s honest is the burn in my throat.<br><br>That woman,She walked into this town like a spark in the dark. Hair black as midnight, eyes sharp that cut through the gloom, and a laugh that made even the neon blush. For a while, she was the only thing that made me forget how rotten this City for a while—the light in the darkness, the warmth in a world full of ash. She made me feel alive,<br><br>Then she was gone. Just gone. The city swallowed her whole, and with her went everything that kept the hollow parts of me from cracking open.<br><br>And me? I’m back where I started. Worse, maybe. Stuck here, same bar, same bourbon, tasting the past in every sip. Damned by memory, haunted by the sorrow I can’t shake. All I can do now is drink, watch the rain smear the neon, and wait for nothing but the burn to keep me alive.

  6

• TR

  @trk508 · 2 years ago

  i&apos;ve been searching for this subgenre my entire life

  148

• LA

  @lancedones208 · 2 years ago

  That case still haunts me to this day...

  156

• HF

  @hf9801 · 1 year ago

  The rain drummed down in relentless sheets, each drop hammering out a rhythm that only I seemed to hear. The case was closed, sure, but it left a sour taste in my mouth—the kind that whiskey and a dark room might dull but never erase. &nbsp;<br><br>I lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl into the wet night air, as filthy as the city that made it. I’d seen it all in that backroom—more blood, more betrayal than any man’s built to carry. Some things, once you lay eyes on ’em, they follow you, cling to you like the stench of death in the gutters. &nbsp;<br><br>I pulled my collar up, heading for the one place left that might make it right, or at least let me forget for a while. Tonight, it was me and the finest whiskey they had—top shelf, smooth, strong. If I was lucky, by the time the bottle hit empty, the memories would be as hazy as the smoke around me.

  10

• TI

  @tidaclockers6214 · 1 year ago (edited)

  It was a clouded late afternoon on Dwell Street. People of all social classes were hurrying, rushing home holding on to the little bit of patience and politeness they had left after a long day of pretending to be whatever society expects them to be. The caffeïne from their morning coffee would run out soon, but by that time they would already be home, where they could finally embrace to their true identities. That&apos;s when my day starts. I don&apos;t drink coffee.. I used to be like anyone else on Dwell street until I started my career as a detective. Being nosy always brought me in trouble as a kid but tonight it was going to save a life. I had my eyes fixed on a spooky apartment from across the street. The owner who was short and fat left the building wearing a tall coat in which he hid his hands, suddenly he adjusted his glasses while inspecting his environment which betrayed what looked like a splash of blood on his fingers. Hasty he began to walk away without any type of luggage which meant he would be back soon. <br> &nbsp; If I want to investigate this place I have to do it quick. I poured a shot of whisky down my throat for the lack of caffeïne and ran down the steps when I saw her.....

  14

• JO

  @JohnnySmithWhite-wd4ey · 10 months ago

  I read her note written with her shade of Red lipstick.<br>&quot;Thanks Jack. &nbsp;It was fun. &nbsp;But I&apos;ve got to go. &nbsp;You know how I am. &nbsp;Samantha&quot;<br>I knew how she was. &nbsp;A dream come to life. &nbsp;A beautiful butterfly that just happened to land on your shoulder. <br>Nothing in this life was made to last.

  5

• AZ

  @azraelexpression2031 · 1 year ago

  This piece of music accompanied me today on a four-hour walk through a dense and lonely forest, at the end of which I came home in the dark. It was perfect.

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