A Tale of Two Harps in a Datsun 510 Wagon

Once upon a time, on a dark, rainy night in Greensboro, N.C. I found myself and my old Datsun up on that hill which served as the parking lot for New York Pizza--eatery and pub.  Maybe it was summertime, or autumn.  It was definitely night time.

My friend Joel and I were there for reasons which I do not recall.  Maybe he does.  Whatever the original reason, we decided to attempt a 2 harmonica jam.  At that time, I guess I considered Joel somewhat of a protege on bluesharp.  By then he already surpassed me in certain respects.  From the start he was the only harp player I knew who had sense enough to make it work when two harps play.  Normally multiple blues harps make worse noise than cat in heat, fighting.

That night we developed some kind of groove which evolved and got wild.  I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying.  I remember I pushed myself to do things I didn't know I could do.  My heart was in it.  Time lost meaning and I can't say if we were there for a minute or hours.

All I know is that, at some point, I opened my eyes and it was raining, and people were standing outside the car cheering or applauding.  Where did they come from?  And standing in the rain listening to us!  That felt pretty good.

I have no idea what we played.  Joel is very good with solid, funky rhythm.  He kept it moving and kept the rhythm working, which gave me something to work with, I think.  He did that better than I've ever been able to.

There was something magical about that little concert.  My friend won't let me forget it.  He seems to think I was channeling something special that night.  He has also commented that, while I may be better now, he wonders if I ever really pour my heart out like that any more because he hasn't seen it in any videos.

I argued, of course, that he didn't know what he was talking about, but I figured out he is right.  Or was.  I like much of the more disciplined stuff I'm doing, but that feeling of really letting go is rare rare rare.

Very hard to describe that state of being, but it is why I play--hoping to feel a little of that.  How it sounds, I don't know, but how it feels I do know.  It is addictive to the point where I play stuff that doesn't move me at all, hoping for a chance to sail into wonderland.   Sometimes years go by without a taste of it.

Lately, I've brushed up against that place a few times.  Mostly because Joel was pushing me to let go and do it.  Good thing he's still in NC.  I wouldn't put up with such advice in person.  I don't care if he has a point.

That night was like a step away from time.  It was as if nothing existed.  Strange.  That was almost half my lifetime ago.

Still, I remember the way it felt.