Jingle jangle

Hey-o folks. It’s J time here at the A-to-Z and this little jewel of a topic comes from a very fine man, a bit of a jokester, a joyful and jovial Jamaican-dreadlocked white dude; a very fine judge of music and talent and a wicked musician himself; the Jazz Lion. And the deal is:

Jamming

Now I’m not a musician. I dick around on the guitar and keyboard. I’ve written a dozen songs at least. Maybe closer to twenty. They’re pretty basic usually. I’m not a performer. I’m certainly no singer. I’m good with the lyrics though.

Jamming is not really an option for me. I have zero ability to play by ear.

There were two happy occasions though. Once at the farm that Jazz Lion rented for a while; a kind of informal drop-in centre for youth like himself. He was deeply connected. Dullards my age would have called his crowd hipsters. They would not have. They were wonderful kids and too good for labels.

We brought together a fine meal one night. I had much wine and they had their own sacrament.

Lion monkeyed with his guitar tuning; got some rich India vibes happening. We played whistling water bowls and the like. It was very ethereal and atmospheric. I went for the simplest thing available: a length of chains.

I rattled them at patient intervals; only when the improvisation begged for them. The master approved. It was clear on his face.

Fine times.

There was one other, but I’ll save it for later.