We Have it Simple, Because We Have a Band. . .
It was warming to be welcomed into friends’ house for their family holiday party; this was a rich mix of both family and friends gathered together to sing Christmas carols around the neighborhood. Afterwards there was a warm reception of food and drink back at the house. As the evening waned, senior family members, children, and their parents began to head homeward.
Later, the festivities are kicked up a notch- shots are poured, the stereo turned up, conversation less filtered. The evening quickly was transformed from family goodness to a party reminiscent of college fun. This year a decision was made to have a late night “open mic” style jam. The idea was knocked around for quite some time, but this year everything came together.
In preparation, I asked one of my good friends to bring his drum kit along with him; I had packed my guitar, handful of stomp boxes, and my newly acquired Hughes and Kettner amp. Even before the events started, the standard was set to have the jam with complete band. Acoustic guitars were reshelved for the time being; a Telecaster and Fender amp were rolled out. One of the partygoers ran home to grab his amp. Sure enough our makeshift band was formed, later to be joined by harmonica and banjo.
Without song or set list in preparation, no expectations set nor word between the four of us, I strummed the first chord. Drums filled, giving my chord a chronology as those notes were replaced with the next chord. The bass came in low and resounding, like a foundation that could hold up the chord work. Another chord, and now a progression- the blueprint of our jam- was laid. Our musical conversation began to elaborate upon itself; the drums and bass began to fill their spaces with more intricate work. Then it really happened. The Telecaster came out on top and made a rich musical statement to which we all responded. There was now purpose for our music, and the lead guitar began to tell its story, interweaving elements of other stories.
“Jack-a-Roe” melded into a blazing rendition of the “Ants Go Marching”. “Franklin’s Tower” found its way, as meandered as it could, into a version of “Tequila” that was never heard before, most likely will never be heard from again. Lou Reed’s “Rock and Roll” balanced a fine line between modern indie rock and 50s’ rockabilly. In addition to some classics we all knew, basic I, IV, V progressions, I laid down some chord work that none of the others had previously encountered. I borrowed from Mauger / Conroy Collaborative songwriting sessions to provide for tonight.
These were my songs, as I interpreted them from Mauger’s lyrics, now turned in upon itself, and reinterpreted by these musicians. They have never heard of Mauger, nor his lyrics, yet they could make sense of it all. I heard the songs again, for the first time as they were made fit for jamming. This gives me confidence that there is real music to be made out of this material, notes and phrasing beyond what I have already crafted. These songs are ready to flower into powerful material, ready for the full band experience.
At some points we had the audience up dancing, at others bringing us shots and beer. We played without sense of time or space, well into early morning. Our work was a one shot deal, leaving no trace of the musical path we blazed. Empty bottles were all that stood in testament of the night. Sure, a few pictures were snapped, and, perhaps, someone took a video snippet with their cell phone, but the notes dissipated into vibrations of air from which they were born.
Later, the festivities are kicked up a notch- shots are poured, the stereo turned up, conversation less filtered. The evening quickly was transformed from family goodness to a party reminiscent of college fun. This year a decision was made to have a late night “open mic” style jam. The idea was knocked around for quite some time, but this year everything came together.
In preparation, I asked one of my good friends to bring his drum kit along with him; I had packed my guitar, handful of stomp boxes, and my newly acquired Hughes and Kettner amp. Even before the events started, the standard was set to have the jam with complete band. Acoustic guitars were reshelved for the time being; a Telecaster and Fender amp were rolled out. One of the partygoers ran home to grab his amp. Sure enough our makeshift band was formed, later to be joined by harmonica and banjo.
Without song or set list in preparation, no expectations set nor word between the four of us, I strummed the first chord. Drums filled, giving my chord a chronology as those notes were replaced with the next chord. The bass came in low and resounding, like a foundation that could hold up the chord work. Another chord, and now a progression- the blueprint of our jam- was laid. Our musical conversation began to elaborate upon itself; the drums and bass began to fill their spaces with more intricate work. Then it really happened. The Telecaster came out on top and made a rich musical statement to which we all responded. There was now purpose for our music, and the lead guitar began to tell its story, interweaving elements of other stories.
“Jack-a-Roe” melded into a blazing rendition of the “Ants Go Marching”. “Franklin’s Tower” found its way, as meandered as it could, into a version of “Tequila” that was never heard before, most likely will never be heard from again. Lou Reed’s “Rock and Roll” balanced a fine line between modern indie rock and 50s’ rockabilly. In addition to some classics we all knew, basic I, IV, V progressions, I laid down some chord work that none of the others had previously encountered. I borrowed from Mauger / Conroy Collaborative songwriting sessions to provide for tonight.
These were my songs, as I interpreted them from Mauger’s lyrics, now turned in upon itself, and reinterpreted by these musicians. They have never heard of Mauger, nor his lyrics, yet they could make sense of it all. I heard the songs again, for the first time as they were made fit for jamming. This gives me confidence that there is real music to be made out of this material, notes and phrasing beyond what I have already crafted. These songs are ready to flower into powerful material, ready for the full band experience.
At some points we had the audience up dancing, at others bringing us shots and beer. We played without sense of time or space, well into early morning. Our work was a one shot deal, leaving no trace of the musical path we blazed. Empty bottles were all that stood in testament of the night. Sure, a few pictures were snapped, and, perhaps, someone took a video snippet with their cell phone, but the notes dissipated into vibrations of air from which they were born.
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