I’ve been touted for my guacamole. I’ll stand by my method. People have asked me to come to their home and prepare it. Restaurants have asked me about it.
Then, believe it or not, along came the wave of the English cats like John Mayall, Eric Clapton and the Stones embracing the great American art form – the blues.
It does something different than more accessible means of music playing, like MP3 players and downloads and whatnot. You get in front of these archaic contraptions that go ’round and ’round.
White people get nervous and speed things up. You don’t have to be in a hurry because you ain’t got nothing to gain and you ain’t got nothin’ to lose. And that’s where the groove lies.
They prospect of seeing oneself in the mirror clean-shaven is too close to a Vincent Price film… a prospect not to be contemplated, no matter the compensation.
We kind of made the best of it playing through the first set, took a break and bought him a Coke and then went on to perform for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t exactly a catastrophe but it certainly stands as legendary.
Sooner rather than later, any other form other than digital media will be a thing of the past. It won’t vanish, but let’s face it, this is seemingly the way of the future.
