ceciliatan

Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.

That night we went to what I was told was a legendary hole-in-the-wall to see Cray’s new band play. I guess you would describe the venue as a honky tonk. It was a club so no-frills that the stage was backed with wood paneling like a suburban TV room and only had two different colors of lights. Like in some of the jazz clubs I’d been to, you didn’t go there for a “show,” you went there for the music. The audience sat in plastic chairs at formica tables and could get pizza from the bar. The ceiling was low and so was the stage itself, which was maybe twelve inches at best. I’d say the capacity topped out at 200 and that would be if they pushed it to the absolute max.

Cray’s band were going to play two sets. Before the first set he came over to say hello. Flip gave him a bear hug just to make him uncomfortable but it didn’t really work because Cray either wasn’t as uptight as he had been in Japan or he he’d gotten better at hiding that he was. We introduced him and Jam, who looked about as out of place in there as a circus clown on a submarine, and they shook hands and then mostly ignored one another.