confessions of a lonely blues player, or principles? f..k 'em

Blue Stew bluestew@gmail.com
Wed Sep 29 09:15:07 EDT 2004


Well father, it's been quite a while since my last confession. 
Probably 'cuz I'm not Catholic but, last night I did what some might
say is the un-thinkable.  I sacrificed my principles, my dignity and
devotion to the blues for that one thing that brings every man to his
knees.  To his knees, sobbing like a 4 year old that has been
abandoned at the baby sitter's for the first time.
The only weakness that can crush you like an empty donut box in a
trash compactor.
It's LUST!

I was in lust with her ash colored hair with blond highlights that
shimmered like a Clairol ad under the stage lights.
Lust with her big, bambi brown eyes that looked at me like a puppy
wanting to go for a walk.
She showed just enough cleavage, not to much, not too little. It was
somewhere between an east Hollywood Blvd. whore and the school marm on
Little House on the Prairie.

Her scent was a liken' to fresh cinnamon rolls, baking in the oven
just after you wake up.
Her freshly washed 501s were tighter than the glove that got O.J
acquitted ("if it don't fit, you must acquit").

It was Thursday night when this alluring, Goddess of seduction walked
to the stage and asked, "can you play…?" I don't wanna say it but it
sounds like  "Tin Pan Alley" or "Silicon Valley".
I just stood there for a second 'till she put her hand on my chest and
begged softly…softly and tenderly like that sleazy, Siren bitch that
led the Viking ships to doom…"please?"

"Sure", I said without hesitation.  I then looked at the band like a
school kid looking at his parents after giving them his unfavorable
report card.
I then mumbled the name of the song and waited for their reaction.
The bass player said "oh brother!" and rolled his eyes.   Matt, the
drummer said, "Mike, you know she's married don't ya?"  I did as soon
as I saw her sitting, holding hands with a guy wearing a wedding band.
 By then it didn't matter though.  It was too late to turn back.  She
had a hold of my heart just as sure as if Venus De Milo grew arms and
grabbed me.

Screamin' Jay Hawkins himself couldn't have cast a stronger spell.

I counted if off slowly so it would make a nice, deep pocket for me to
crawl into.  The bassist laid down a simple, solid quarter note groove
like Booker T and the MGs on animal tranquilizers.

Harmonica virtuoso Mitch Kasmar, who was also playing keys put down a
heavy "ground rhythm" on his sampled B-3 keyboard.  He conjured up the
"Jimmy Smith, Groove Holmes" thing in an instant.
He even knew the horn parts, which surprised me.

I put myself in Steve Cropper's shoes (and he's got some BIG feet!)
and kept chuggin' on that octave motion.

Of coarse we didn't have to sing the "ride s…..rides".  The crowd
generally does that for you.

Half way through I thought to myself, This aint so bad.  It even has a
nice feel to it.  Then it ended, fini.  It was fairly painless, and of
coarse I don't have to tell the musicians here, that it got the
loudest applause of the night…but that's to be expected.

Later that night she said to me, "thank you!" and so did her husband,
as they walked hand and hand to their "love chariot".
 
Well…as I was starring up at that California half moon I was thinking,
"what am I?"  An uncompromising blues player that tosses principles
out the window for the right feminine smile?
An "I'll play whatever I want, when I wanna play it" guy.
Or just a crowd pleasin' fool?

Tell me, what would you do?  Only people with "lust in their heart" need apply.
Mike "unchain my heart, baby let me go"- Ray

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