After church I concluded that the perfect plan was to shop at Sister's on Tate Street in search of some funky earrings sure to please the most persnickety of teenage girls. Next I would swing by Tate Street Coffee where my former guitar teacher Sam Frazier was playing a rare, almost unheard of afternoon gig.
I thought I'd hear a few tunes, give Sam a hug, and move onto the next gift on my list. So I slipped into a seat along the sidewall, sipped on my coffee, and casually leafed through the Sunday N & R. I hid behind a bunch of college guys with young hip hairdo's and who coolly contained their obvious admiration for the musicians at hand. And somewhere between the warm-up and Sam's finale, I went off to a place far far away from Christmas madness.
The afternoon show started off with Bruce Piephoff. (I hope I spelled that right.) Sam played electric guitar to Mr. P's acoustic. I recognized quite a few songs from Bright Leaf Blues which absolutely delighted me as I'm not at all an insider of the Greensboro music scene. However, Sam's mesmerizing touch on the electric guitar transformed those songs into something else entirely. And transported me to some kind of wonderful, unfamiliar world I just didn't wanna come down from.
I tried to pay attention to Mr. P's smart, culturally-astute lyrics, but found myself completely taken over by the music. I was sad Mr. P had to scoot out after only a few songs, as he had created such a nice cozy vibe with the audience. Apparently, it was his dads 83rd birthday celebration. Having an 83 year-old father, myself, I completely understood!
While I was getting over my sadness about the sudden departure of the Bruce and Sam combo, Martha Bassett took the lead and sounded rather relieved that she wouldn't be singing any Christmas tunes. Being a late bloomer of sorts, I've never had a chance to see her perform, except once at an outdoor venue where I couldn't hear or see very well. This woman radiated natural talent, grace, and possessed a gorgeous angelic voice. There really seemed to be a light that shined all around her and emanated straight through to the audience.I guess it's not cool to like Christmas carols, but I admittedly would have loved hearing her exquisite voice singing a traditional Christmas song or two.
Oh, well! ...
Next time I hope to get a seat right upfront in hopes that a smidgeon of her talent rubs off on me!
As for Sam Frazier, his multidimensional talent startles me. One minute I'm hypnotized by his subtle electric guitar playing. Next I'm moving in my seat to a reggae beat. Earlier I'm almost brought to tears when Miss Martha sings a song that he wrote about a woman who used to whisper his name in his ear. (Ok, he got me with that one, he really got me!) Finally, he grandstanded with that lethal guitar of his and ended his rather short set way too soon.
Then it was over. Two hours seemed like ten minutes. I gave Sam a hug and some accolades. I walked along Tate Street still floating from the experience. And realized my prayers had been answered ...
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