A New Bio-by Mick Swinarski

The Devil went up to Canada he was looking for a soul to steal,
Apparently, Brittany's didn't turn out to be such a great deal.
So he was in a bind, he was way behind and he was looking for a soul that was real.
When he came across this young man in a club channeling Coltrane through his tenor sax and blowing it hot.
Devil jumped up on a table and said "Boy let me te..."
The man interrupted him, "I'm not a boy."
To Which the Devil replied, "What?"
The man retorted, "I'm not a boy, I'm a full grown man."
The Devil looking miffed answered, "I can see you're a man, anyone can see you're a man. But if I start out my challenge with "Man" it sounds like I'm a hippie or gay or something."
The man spoke again,"You could've called me Jim."
The Devil clearly befuddled said, 'What??"
Jim stated, "My name is Jim Brenan. You could've called me Jim."
Very rattled the Devil screeched, " I know what your name, I am Lucifer, the Fallen One, Master of Lies, Lord of Darkness, Once the Morningstar. I know all that happens on Earth and Hell, I knew what your bloody name was. I was just using a psychological ploy to throw you off your game before I challenged you."
Jim replied, "Well a challenge is all good and well but you could've done it like gentleman and been polite. We'd be much further ahead than we are now."
The Devil drooped his head a bit, "You're right I apologize for my rudeness"
Jim queried, "Alright. Now this challenge you spoke of, I suppose you want to have a jazz showdown for which you have some kind of golden sax to put up against my soul, winner take all?"
The Devil head down, drawing pictures in the dirt with his toe, said, " Uh yeah that's about it, so what do you say?"
Jim looked at him and the solid golden sax and he looked at his own axe, he laid his sax down reached into his case, pulled out a 357 Magnum revolver and popped three caps into the Devil's chest. He packed his own horn away, grabbed the golden sax and walked out of the room smiling thinking back to all the times people asked him why he soaked his shells in Holy Water.
Jim Brenan is still pumping out the Jazz today on his tenor sax, somewhere in the Northwoods but if come upon him always remember to polite.

Here begins the Tale of Brenan the Musician

"Hither came Brenan, the Musician, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sax in hand, a prof, a composer, a player, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet..."

He was born on the battlefield, his first breaths were of smoke and blood. Bred of the people self-called the Musicians, but called simply Jazzmen by others, young Brenan grew quickly in the instinctive ways of the Jazzman. He could slay a full-grown audience with naught but his keen-edged battle-sax well before the age that most "civilized" boys could reach the keys on a piano. Some say the blood of Lost Coltranis flowed through his veins, but who can say what runs in the veins of a Jazzman? Wherever Brenan traveled tales sprang up like crows from a charnel house. Whatever he wanted, he took; conquering whole cities with the mighty sax that was his birthright. Men envied him, women swooned and children marveled. Such power and savagery was tempered with justice, like the first iron forged by manlings out of the Stygian murk. There was a simple rightness to the man that neither his excesses nor his vast fury could bely. He was Brenan and that was enough to earn him the notice of holy men and wealthy merchants alike. Rogue, adventurer and finally king; Brenan strode from darkness unto darkness.