Two shapely brown shoulders and a round, roguish face, framed in a triangle of white light, showed above the grand piano's shining ebony. From the keyboard Chopin's Minute Waltz flowed fleetly, ripplingly. For a while it surged along according to Chopin. Then watchers saw an impish flicker of a smile, an insinuating movement of a shoulder. Came the first suggestion of a hot lick; another, and another. Then Hazel Scott began to "break it down," and was off in a wild mélange of pianistics, sweet, hot, Beethoven and Count Basic.
Her fans had known...
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