Reelin' & Rockin'

and then, of course, there were those days and nights of total abandon, chasing the music, jamming, and without care or pretense to be one of the best . or, maybe it was those 25 cent beers. best at what, you ask . why, the groove, man. and that girl who came to a party at my place, and never left for 48 years ...

we'd run from those poor 'hoods that permeate st. paul and surrounds to see the hippest bands; lamont cranston, raggs, the prophets of peace, Aces, Straights & Shuffles, Big George Jackson, koerner, ray and glover, willy murphy and the bumblebees ...

wed load carloads of post adolescents to test the flame on franklin, whisky junction, the joint , especially the cabooze, with its national acts; i saw johnny winter there, and my wife getting her ass fondled; 20 minutes to the bathroom, and johnny never stopped.

i hired willy and the bees for our homecoming; they didn't know color my world, yet sported a seven piece r and b section with players in contact across the usa - john beach , pianist, looked like a the remains of a rather odd cabal, with some heavy ass licks , maurice jacox, bari and vocals from some groups in cal; he still lives here. i'd seen them at th triangle and around cedar, on the west bank. more than once the group would march across the bar, full regalia funkified. man, wwe were barely 18, our minds expanded - i dont how they let us in these joints. 

i remember the night we went to the moon. the entire city had scored its own 4 way, and the night was brightly lit and magical.

the iron moon, a 3.2 content beer bar of a type that no longer exists. this one was taken over by foosball experts. i was into the game, master hyperlink shots screaming toward me as id take my time, counting each revolution of the thundering game piece.

  jimmie fuller answered his ancient door with a loaded revolver and twinkling eyes; perfect gentleman who saved me from a gang on west 7th once. it was his confidence in me. he convinced them. it was all a misunderstanding. jimmie died a young man. a lot of them did then, plus, the war. 

then, there was willy murphy himself, leader and provocatuer. once interviewing him he quoted, ' chaos is my stock in trade' especially in that era. 

years later i set up a scenario to see the band every weekend. i'd just skip work. what a concept. 

they'd play the same set most nights, but the thing was, each song would change each night. the entire mood could be affected, lsd or no lsd. nope, these cats were master musicians.

 and that crowd. its as though they dig out from the snow and blight just to be with each other and their joyous poverty ,,, 

i'm wandering here, so i'll play a piece by murphy's master class - a cover of a chuck berry piece. 

 

xxx