Bus Terminal Band
Oceanside Saturday night. Slick handrail. Painted black. Solid. Cold. Worn. Iron leading downward. Wide cement steps. Gritty hall. Cool air. Wrapped overhead pipes. Fluorescent-lit linoleum floor. Yellow ceramic-tiled walls. Footsteps echo excitedly. Heady disinfectant stink. Mirrors reflect snow-white lavatories. Timed faucets gush. Pink soap oozes. Paper towels tossed. Hurry. Run fast. Go further.
Behind his half-door, musical lures glitter.
Bubs, his nametag reads.
“What can I do for you fellows? That guitar hanging up there? Take one of these picks. They come free, but don’t break any. You two need amps? ”
The pair hungers to jam.
“This one look good? Try on this baby for size. Plug those amps in down the hall. My rates are by the hour, boys.”
Two amps. Two guitars. One riffs in E major. The other follows. Traffic stops to listen. Toes tap.
“Another guitar, Bubs?”
Eighteen strings then wail against the hot summer night. Outsiders linger, forgetting. Time stops. Raw beats grow to become ever-strong, ever-pure, ever-nice. A cosmic connection feeds, pleasing the brotherhood.
posted by Harry | 1:16 PM
5 Comments:
A tuneful offering. I can hear riffs echoing and wonder who leads and who follows and what of the mysterious third guitar?
I like the way you paint the atmosphere.
Thanks Ned. I went nuts here and began slinging buckets of paint, but now am fine with how it all dried.
I wonder myself -- never caught any names on that night.
Along the lines of shameless self-promotion yet in keeping with the general tone of the post, I wondered...
Have you ever checked out my music blog?
http://www.rhythms-riffs.com/
I admit, shamefully, that I had not until now, and was taken with its content. Wow.
Well, to be fair - I hadn't ever mentioned it. But you are safe, I won't recommend you go over to read the glamor tips blog.
Thanks for the comments, I think we might have a few musical streaks in common as well as many that would diverge widely. But there's more Cash on the horizon.
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