The four Ps . . . so as I sit in front of my window on the world in the hills near Montana d'Oro, overlooking Morro Bay and the 'Rock' The Gibralter of the West. The Spanish named these hills after their Moorish cousins to the south, because the hills resembled the hats of Marakesh, Casablanca and the Southern Medeteranean Coast.
I feel in a way like Fred must have felt . . . free of automobiles and the crazy baggage (slime) they leave on the earth. My 'Abe' Lincoln is parked in a garage in the Bay area . . . broke down, kaput. Sometime last year my mechanics a mishmash of Asian and African fellows the latter of which wear those hats of which I speak above . . . installed a rebuilt transmission in what is now my car. A preliminary investigation has shown that this transmisson has fallen into the 'lemon' category, or like a transplant of some vital organ, seems to have been rejected by this car. So I am left here in Morro Bay, stranded if you will, the first time since my departed Father impressed upon me the need for an automobile. It was his dying wish that I should own one. Mostly I tried to avoid that issue by living in cities and for a time even in Miami, went more than one year without an auto. In fact I played some of my best gigs in Miami without ever owning an auto. The night I played the Coconut Grove Theater with Ira Sullivan and Friends, second on the bill with Billy Marcus as the opener and Jaco Pastorius and the Atlantean Driftwood Band as the headline. I snuck out with Ira at the close of the show and played a bit of tamborine with Jaco and the band. I remember looking into the vacume of Jaco's eyes that night on stage . . . and all was well. But it wasn't well when I saw him in '84 in October after leaving South Street Pier, Richie Havens and Pete Seeger and the culmination of the Pumpkin Sail that year. I had met a cute girl that day and we had promised to 'keep in touch' and we did when I returned to New York when the weather suited my clothes the following spring. In the meantime I sent her Macaw feathers from Islemorada with which she made earings. But as I got into my auto driveaway that day and cruised up Green street I saw the #### for Jaco and a blind keyboard friend of mine who was also on the bill at a soho jazz club. The keyboard fellow had been a member of Joe Donato's band in the mid '70s and a regular on the jazz scene in Miami, perhaps even today. His name slips my mind right now but if any of ya'll were on the scene back then, you know of whom I speak.
So I parked the car and went into the club and spoke to the keys guy and he was lamenting the demise of Jaco and the royal pain in the butt it had become dealing with him for this gig. I didn't recognize Jaco out in the bar until he began yelling at the bartender for some real or imagined transgression. This was an unwilling and abrubt change from having just left the likes of Pete and Richie. Somehow it all spilled out onto Green street and I stood a few feet from my car debating whether or not to figeratively kick Jaco's butt or sumptin' while he sat on the sidewalk leaning against the 'storefront' window of the club. I reconed he needed a good talking to anyway . . . but I couldn't decide what to do and we just kind of quietly stared at each other as we did that night on stage . . . as I stood there in Limbo. Finally I got into my car and drove to Miami to meet Fuzz in DB studio in North Miami. I suppose I regretted not having tryed to put my two cents in.
So Fuzzy has been calling me from Toledo. He just finished a show and session with Eddie Kirkland, John Lee Hooker's old sidekick and guitarist. During the convention at the hotel hosted by Blue Suit records http://www.blue-suit.com/ Fuzz said he got himself a record deal. He said there weren't any tapes, CDs, bios, photos, non of the usual perishables associated with pitches to record execs. He just took out his guitar, sat down and played them a song. So we'll see.
For a Thanksgiving show I think a great title might be 'Leftover Blues Festival. We can start by offering anybody that brings a bit of leftover Thanksgiving meal to the theater for a Pot Luck meal will get a discount or a Free CD. Along with that source of entertainment and in keeping with the spirit of the holiday I thought I could cook up a batch of my favorite pancakes. Vendors would be welcome for a small fee and the acts might be Brantley Kearns and Rick Shay of Tres Pescadores Records, http://www.trespescadores.com/artists/rickbrantley/biography.html and Danny Finley aka Panama Red, http://www.panamaredmusic.com/
If I could get Fuzz out here we could put something together as well and make a day of it, an afternoon or evening.
Naturally we'd need to contact the local media, newspapers, radio and cable TV, print flyers, post cards, pencils and erasers n' maybe get Woody to make us a poster. We'd need a few 'causes perhaps besides the intrinsic value of song and dance . . . the kind of thing that made the dead and the Lollapolooza tours a success . . . some not for profit causes that people can get behind . . . in short something for every taste imaginable catering to everyone's natural inclination to 'smile on our brothers and get together right now!!' A perfect holiday theme . . . thanksgiving !!*!*!*!*
And I'll try not to 'cut da toikey' too soon.
a foot in Los Osos in 2002
up with food, flowers, friends, peace, understanding and silly love songs.