Well here we are again! Happy Friday, folks. It’s been an amazingly fun week in the workshop. Before we get into that, a word of condolences and thoughts for Nashville, which got hit by tornado action early this week. That’s a strong community and I know they’ll rebound just fine. I checked in with who I know and they’re OK but I know there are others who lost lives and folks in their circle, businesses, homes, and parts of music city’s history are in splinters. So sad! I think we can all rest assured at least a hundred guys made it safely past all that frantic digging and helping first thing the next morning to get to their cubicles and toss out some 4-minute co-writes about it just in time for the next big artist’s release… but you know what? I feel for them too. We’re all just trying to make the best of the opportunities our paths brought. I’m sorry you all are going through this over there. There’s a little saint and a bit of whore in all of us no matter who – so I can’t judge anyone, be them my artist friends or music’s ambulance chasers. All I can do is work a little extra, be a little more grateful, and put a little extra turn on the clamps. It’s sad when people suffer and sometimes it’s all we can do to just… do a little better in their honor.
And live for those who can’t – enjoy something in their stead. Place a little ritual at the altar of the sunrise as a thought for them as we become again fortunate to awaken into a day. That perspective in my path – it’s worked deep into the fibers of the wood from the threads of my life. Given the chance, given the day, don’t just exist if you have the option to LIVE. And just as the instruments that take form in the workshop are as much talisman as tool, a road trip to me is as much ceremony as sightseeing. That was a great trip over the break – a real journey.
The good highway ship Moondancer and I made our way slowly from home port in south-central Texas toward the Atlantic, and we took a right down the gulf side of Florida and then a hard left up the ocean side. Believe it or not the old StepVan is self-contained, meaning for five days (a week at a stretch), my little feet don’t even need to touch the ground if I don’t want to. All it needs is gas. It’s hungry – but it’s a home. I found a stretch of beach with public access, triangulated a few places within a few miles to park at night, located the supermarket and the laundromat, available public facilities for emptying tanks and filling water, and settled in for what I thought would be maybe 3 or 4 days. That’s generally the plan for a stay anywhere for more than that. That’s day one. Well brethren, let me tell you – I ran that circle long enough to have to go to the laundromat two times. The weather was fine, no crowds, and the sand was soft under my feet. Magical long sunny days, sunset drives, and nights of purring diesel sounds from over in the big lot.
I got so comfy I booked a local recording studio, took in a buuuunch of mixed tracks I had taken to listen to out of familiar surroundings to see how they spoke to me and arranged themselves, and put together & mastered three albums. That’s another story entirely. But the trip, the journey, the road is a meditative state for me and I rode it like a wave. After the time walking up and down the quiet beach and sitting on the roof deck for the sunrises over the water, just as the gray and rain came, we were headed north into deep south Georgia. Why? Why not? “Well there’s nothing IN south Georgia.” You know it might just be the kind of nothing I want to see! Besides, this rig hadn’t earned its Georgia magnet yet, and that’s all the reason I, as Captain, really needed to point the hood in that direction. The road and I, we have a long conversation going. Everybody knows that’s my mistress, even in years I’m not really going anywhere. She’s there, I dream about her, and part of what makes me ME is that dance over the decades where she pulls and I resist. Most of the time. It’s no higher than a plan C or D at this point, but loving even the most distant of your alternative arrangements should things go completely haywire in life… that’s security. It won’t skate you by the troubles or spare you some scars should it happen, but that’s some peace to know, my friends. It frees up the energy from worry to be used for better things. For now, I am “this” me, here doing my service, in “this” beauty. I’m grateful for all of it and I’ll take it as it comes.
So this week was spent getting the three 15th Anniversary bass orders from plank to blank, cutting out a handful of bass-to-be bodies for edge sanding (including a 3-piece mahogany Shortbass for the inventory page), reveling in the sawdust 'n sunshine with all the doors open (including my head, just naturally being in the middle of all this springtime creation) and a day was spent off in the old ’83 Econoline wood shopping. That old van is going to get some love this year. It’s seen some road too! Also we rounded up the last of the blades and bits needed to do what we do – I didn’t like the new bandsaw blade I got, so I found a new one of the old style. It just works best for me the way I get it done. Stocked with some poplar, mahogany, and walnut. Took a picture of Paul, who we’ve been buying Birdsong wood from for 16 years, cutting some mahogany to fit in the van. Picked up a little more of our current super lightweight wood, hemlock, too.
ON one of the pieces of walnut was the code 83706. I looked that up as a zip code and it’s Boise, Idaho. So the hidden deal of the week is this – if you’re living there and want a walnut Birdsong or SD Curlee bass, get in touch and I’ll make you a sweet special deal. Why? Why not! This is supposed to be fun, right? Well, this is how I play around with things.
Music is ever by my side, and I want to share some of the soundtrack of the big trip that framed the days and night road scenes up front, the hang time and hours of writing in the back, and played softly as the lights of truck stop night life reflected in with you – but this week’s words are stacking up fast and there’s more to actually do. So, next week – all music. Most of the music that made it to be part of life was from another’s list or suggestion. If I think you’re cool and we talk long enough, I’m going to ask you about the music that moves you, that has stayed with you. And I’m going to go to it because I know there’s something there. I might not get it, it might not be my flavor, but it’ll inspire something. And that’s what any and all of this is about.
I saw a Facebook post from a friend on wheels (not the van or housetruck kind – the chair kind), a meme about how telling someone in that situation they’re an inspiration is demeaning. Respectfully, I don’t have any idea what it’s like to be in that circumstance, but I do know about inspiration. It’s one of the most high callings you can share as an earth bound being to inspire another. I am only here via others’ inspiration to ME. And I’m sorry if it offends, but it sure won’t offend me however it comes. I’ve never been on wheels like that, but I’ve been down, and broke, and not at my best - what helped fix a lot of that along the way? Being inspired… and becoming an inspiration. And I’ve been demeaned – I sure know what that is. But to be called an inspiration? Isn’t that a part of what we’re supposed to be? If we’re leading from the front, that’s what we’re there to do - whatever your cause, whatever your challenges, whatever your craft. So no matter what, I’ll take it as intended from any who’ll take that seed and do good with it. It’s strong medicine. Now, back into the workshop where all that becomes tools for its expression. YOU, reading this right now, are an inspiration to somebody; own it. There are a worse things to be called… or called to be.
Just two cents from a guy shaping wood,
Listening to: Black Crowes Greatest Hits; Taj Mahal In Progress & In Motion (disc 2); The Swinging Guitar of Tal Farlow; Jack Owens Blues At Home ‘78-’82; Joe Gibbs Scorchers From The Mighty Two (Reggae compilation); Willie Nelson Countryman... which is just… bizarre; and Joe Henderson So Near So Far - Musings For Miles - which is as good as it gets.