’tis a rare occasion when I get the chance to pack up the guitar and go sing with someone (other than the church choir). So, when Sherri suggested that we head over to her friend Pattie’s house and jam, I leapt at the chance. Other than an isolated Revolver reunion (5 years ago?) and church sing-a-longs, I haven’t sat around singing and playing with anyone other than my dad since the mid-80’s.
Of course, the combination of lack of human interaction and nervousness led to my looking like a worse spaz than usual. I dropped things. I stabbed Sherri with the guitar. I giggled too much. But, mainly, I was brain dead.
“So, what artists do you like,” Pattie asked.
“Um, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, the Beatles,” I stammered.
“So, play some!”
I couldn’t remember anything! I couldn’t come up with a song title to save my life. I couldn’t remember how to play “Early Morning Rain” or anything. And when they asked me to play one of my own songs, I couldn’t even remember their names! Just sad.
Fortunately, they were so patient and so talented that we had a great time anyway. We went through a bunch of song books and played a little of this and a little of that. The harmonies were great. They even let me sing some old country songs when my amnesia lifted. (Don’t worry, Sherri, your secret country roots are safe with me!)
It was such a blast that I hope to get a chance to do it again very, very soon.