Frank’s music flows out of him even when there is no melody or beat or rhythm accompanying. Silence is adequate. No, it is more than that. Sometimes words are all you need, nothing more, to make sweet, sweet music. I guess that’s what people call poetry. Or prose. Or just damn good writing.
All in all, if it’s free, it’s music.
But there’s no doubt about it, it has got to be free. Flowing. Unrestrained.