Wednesday, May 11, 2011


I enjoy the show before the show, the scurrying about, a sound check, nervous energy channeled into an obsessive compulsion to the most minute auditory detail only released with an inside joke amongst friends. I am barely noticed with my camera and am drawn to the emptiness of a space immediately prior the throng. This is the time to develop a relationship with the wait staff, set up a tab, case out the place. It has the feel of a secret.

Then it seems as if the crowd had met at the large cafe a block away and decided to walk to the show together. The waitress picks up the pace, I get one more drink and sneak out a back door onto a patio to get a quick look at the shots. I meet a fellow writer, a Veteran and take in a beautiful Georgia night in the upscale downtown area of Columbus. It reminds of my twenties and Dee Dee and Dave and Chops and Union Avenue in Memphis. I smile.

Back at the table Rick is waiting patiently with the camera bag. He is obviously comfortable in his own skin and derives a certain pleasure in observation. I touch his arm, whisper something in his ear and he takes the camera so he can critique the shots. More drinks and dinner are ordered. The crowd becomes thick and I appreciate our small camp in the rear corner of the room.

It is a secured base, a glance, a touch and a smile with a friend when all of a sudden the music takes over the room and the energy moves through you, over you, all around you and you try to capture it. Try to capture the feel of what good blues rock can do to a room. Only later do I find out I never got the shot but I tried and there will be a next time, I just know it.


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