Couple weeks ago at a soul show out in Boston, I smoked a joint with the keyboard player. I don’t even have a nice rack.
It was before they went on. The opening act was pounding it; they were pretty good – from Chicago, but, by way of Latin America. I didn’t like their music but they worked hard and had their skin in the game. I respected that. I was drinking some kind of whiskey and wanted a smoke, so I headed out back past the bar and the door guy into the parking lot behind the gig.
There were 2 fellas out there having a smoke and they welcomed me and we all fell into that smoke camaraderie that happens. We were laughing about whatnot and talking about music. The one guy says to me, he’s the keyboard player, nodding over to the other guy. The other guy stuck his hand out and introduced himself properly and we all shook hands and ‘aww, man’d’ for a bit. That first guy whipped out a jibbah.
We passed it around, as you do, and I said to the first guy, who is also in a band – hey, man, you’re the front-man. He says, yeah, I’m the singer. How do you know? I say – ‘Cause David Lee Roth is your poppa. He gives this great laugh, the biggest smile, ‘fuck yeah!’ And we pass it around some more. We walk over to the front-man’s van – I shit you not, a fucking white Chevy van. Of course I ask, how come it doesn’t say free candy on your van? We all laugh. Front-man grabbed another jibbah for his guitar player. He was around somewhere and we hung out later. It was time to head back inside.
We said our ‘later’s and I was pretty psyched about getting a sip of that whiskey. Keyboard player was going on soon and he had shit to do.
Whole bunch of other goodness happened that night, too, and maybe I’ll have something to say about those things and maybe I won’t. This story is done, though.