I knew it was going to be a good gig when Carla asked me to unstick a microphone stand, I carelessly slammed it on the floor, and metal on metal sliced thru my hand. A nice chunk of my picking hand offered up the gods.

What’s that fleshy part between your thumb and finger called? Thenar eminence. Well, I missed that part, the slice was just a flesh wound, the connecting tissue from thumb to finger. Lots of blood, and a sharp stinging. Carla wrapped the wound with band-aids and golden gaffer’s tape. That was tip-off. Start a gig with a blood sacrifice, it is gonna be a good one.

And yes, it was an extraordinarily great gig. Cary’s Lounge, on Devon in Chicago, a little music mecca. We jammed our big band into a small space and the energy was concentrated and expansive. It had been awhile since we all gathered together to play. A super-cool, gracious and enthusiastic crowd. A fabulous turn-out of a community of souls. We were all there to commune with the ancestors, their carved masks adorning the walls.

So, yeah, we blasted through our set, old songs, newer songs, just-hatched songs. It was exhilarating. I for one, totally lost myself in the moment. No pain, no fear, just love and music. You know, my hand will be fine, might have a little scar, that’s Life, a rememberance of an afternoon of mayhem, and wonder. A great way to start 2025… – Jammer