I feel a story coming on.
If you count church and community choirs, blues jams, and the occasional gigs, I’ve probably performed with over 1000 musicians. So far, the best of the bunch is a guy whose parents called Dennis.
Dennis was a musical prodigy in elementary school, and the musical director of his brother’s very popular soul band in high school. After high school, he went to New York and became a working rock and roll musician. He was successful for about 15 years. You have heard his guitar work on many records over the years, he had a bunch of gold records in other people’s names, and one in his.
His guitar playing got him hired a lot; his personality got him fired a lot. Politely stated, he was a spoiled brat. Finally, he threw one tantrum too many and came home to Eastern Mass.
He got a gig in a bar in his home town hosting an Open Mic on Thursday Night. I heard about him through the grapevine and went and played three or four times. At my request, he played with me.
Believe me, I never sounded as good as when Dennis played with me. The supportive vibe and the musical solos were more intoxicating than anything the bar served.
One night, we played Willie Nelson’s “Night Life”. Its a simple 8 bar blues, but I learned a rather complicated arrangement that had a bunch of jazz chords. I didn’t go over it with Dennis: he would have been insulted. I played the rhythm part and he played lead. When it came time for his solo, he took off on a flight of fancy that was incredible. I stopped to listen. And forgot where I was in the song. I was lost, but Dennis heard the problem, quickly changed his solo, played my chord for a beat or two and put me back on track. I doubt if anyone in the audience even knew we had a problem.
After the set, I apologized and thanked him for helping me out. He told me not to think about it and said that that was what real musicians do.
At some point playing or singing music moves from being about playing and more about listening; more about what you hear than what you try to do.
