I have made excuses and resisted every time he's asked me to do it. It's not that it would be a bad thing, mind you... it's just that it isn't MY thing.
My friend JD is the guitarist of a prominent blues band here, and he invited me for yet the ka-billionth time to come out to see his gig last Saturday. I know JD has a lot of talent, and his band has to be pretty darn good... they opened for BB King last summer on his tour here, after all. But still!
I don't know nuthin' bout no blues! A friend dubbed me CPR (Crown Princess of Rock) for a reason, you know! All I know is rock and metal. And lately, more of the heavier death metal genre. Would I even like blues? And how close is it to--gulp--jazz, which sounds so schizophrenic to my ears that it about makes my brain bleed? (Sorry, but in my personal hell, I'm certain jazz would be piped in on the Bose system in a continuous infernal loop.)
"Where do you think rock came from, if not rooted in the Blues?" Ahh, JD threw down the gauntlet! "And all those rock guitarist cats you dig so much give homage to their influences such as BB King and Muddy Waters. Come on, I think you'll dig it. There will be no jazz."
My eyes widened. Well, maybe…
"Come out, and I'll bring the Strat, and throw in some Jimi Hendrix... just for you. Do you like Voodoo Chile?" The coup de grace... he played the Fender and Hendrix cards: kryptonite candy from the Pied Piper.
Okay, I'll be there.
I drafted my head-bangin' wing girl Paula for the mission to the Blues club. Can we wear these ripped rocker chick jeans and black t-shirts in there? And what music do we listen to on the long drive over to get psyched up for the gig? Surely not Chaos Theory or Endchain... Do we even have a blues radio station here?
When we got to the Blues club, there was JD setting up the maroon Strat and the butterscotch Les Paul. He greeted us warmly and introduced us to a couple members of his band. A “harp” player? What?
Looking around the crowd, everyone seemed to be in their church best; suits and dresses, complete with hats, as though coming to a Saturday Night Revival. And a Revival it was! Once the music started, it was instant enchantment. The crowd were on their feet and “testifying” to the music. A total 180-out from the metal crowd we are used to, with all the angry, head-banging white boys from suburbia.
Jackie, with that smoky Chicago blues club voice, had the crowd eating out of her hand as she sang those sultry tunes. Okay, so I found out a “harp” is really a harmonica (and not a harp), and Bobby played that thing with more soul than I’m sure the law allows, causing Paula and I to grin and raise an eyebrow, thinking the “wrong” thing more than once. ;) And then there was my boy JD… he completely mesmerized us all with that sweet blues sound wailing from his six string. And when JD took the spotlight with "Voodoo Chile (slight return)", I knew I could die a happy woman.
We had such a great time! Why, I even felt my body unconsciously swaying to the music… amazingly, without any desire to flex and extend my cervical spine in a whiplash manner! And what was this? There was melody, and lyrics I could understand! This was so incredibly cool! What was happening to me?
Yes, now even Six “gets” the blues!
