Jammin with Afi-Nur − 13 October, 2007
OK, now, here's the reason I went out of town: we had a family reunion.
I hadn't flown in seven years. Airlines don't care about passengers, and they don't have to: you're trapped. Add in all the security hassles, and it's about as fun at root canal, except without the comfortable chair.
I stressed about the trip, for this and other reasons.
But in the end, I had a great time. There was one overwhelming highlight:
Before I married Hannah, I was an only child. My immediate family consisted of just three people: me, Mom, and Dad.
Hannah, on the other hand, is one of seven. When I married her, I got an extra bonus: a huge family, including a wide selection of nieces and nephews. Suddenly I was 'Uncle Bruce!'
Now, one of the best things is, my nieces and nephews are all very talented. Most of them are musicians, just like me. For example, my niece Navasha is part of a Maryland-based band called Fertile Ground.
Well, last weekend, I actually got to jam out some with her father, Cleveland musician Afi-Nur. Now, I had fun the rest of that weekend, but honestly -- nothing topped that. Here's how it happened:
We were visiting Hannah's sister Pam's house. Her husband, David, had an old, beat up guitar that needed tuning in a bad way. There was a lull at one point, and, since I've always got to be doing something, I picked up the guitar and got it in tune (well, as best as I could -- the fretboard was slightly warped).
Afi-Nur heard me noodling around on it, and came and sat down at the piano nearby.
There is this thing that happens between musicians, a sort of unspoken language. Some of us speak the same dialect, and when we try to jam, the separate stories we know lock together and make something new. Afi-Nur and I both speak jazz, blues, R&B, funk -- the good stuff. Within about a minute, we were jamming along on a tune, and --
. . . wait for it . . .
. . . wait for it . . .
Nobody realized it was us playing! They thought we had turned on the radio or put on a CD!
Now, think about that. It sounded like something already made, but was improvised.
Not too bad.
Despite that imperfect guitar, we played a while together -- how long, I don't know. When I'm in music mode, a place I call 'the instant', time doesn't really tick away in the same way as it does when I'm, say, typing a blog entry. I know we moved from soul jazz to a funk number, where I was scratching away on the acoustic like a madman.
Anyway, below I've got a few pictures. The first is me jamming with Afi-Nur. Second, well . . . that's me doing the Electric Slide, later that night.
What can I say? You have to live while you're alive.
I hadn't flown in seven years. Airlines don't care about passengers, and they don't have to: you're trapped. Add in all the security hassles, and it's about as fun at root canal, except without the comfortable chair.
I stressed about the trip, for this and other reasons.
But in the end, I had a great time. There was one overwhelming highlight:
Before I married Hannah, I was an only child. My immediate family consisted of just three people: me, Mom, and Dad.
Hannah, on the other hand, is one of seven. When I married her, I got an extra bonus: a huge family, including a wide selection of nieces and nephews. Suddenly I was 'Uncle Bruce!'
Now, one of the best things is, my nieces and nephews are all very talented. Most of them are musicians, just like me. For example, my niece Navasha is part of a Maryland-based band called Fertile Ground.
Well, last weekend, I actually got to jam out some with her father, Cleveland musician Afi-Nur. Now, I had fun the rest of that weekend, but honestly -- nothing topped that. Here's how it happened:
We were visiting Hannah's sister Pam's house. Her husband, David, had an old, beat up guitar that needed tuning in a bad way. There was a lull at one point, and, since I've always got to be doing something, I picked up the guitar and got it in tune (well, as best as I could -- the fretboard was slightly warped).
Afi-Nur heard me noodling around on it, and came and sat down at the piano nearby.
There is this thing that happens between musicians, a sort of unspoken language. Some of us speak the same dialect, and when we try to jam, the separate stories we know lock together and make something new. Afi-Nur and I both speak jazz, blues, R&B, funk -- the good stuff. Within about a minute, we were jamming along on a tune, and --
. . . wait for it . . .
. . . wait for it . . .
Nobody realized it was us playing! They thought we had turned on the radio or put on a CD!
Now, think about that. It sounded like something already made, but was improvised.
Not too bad.
Despite that imperfect guitar, we played a while together -- how long, I don't know. When I'm in music mode, a place I call 'the instant', time doesn't really tick away in the same way as it does when I'm, say, typing a blog entry. I know we moved from soul jazz to a funk number, where I was scratching away on the acoustic like a madman.
Anyway, below I've got a few pictures. The first is me jamming with Afi-Nur. Second, well . . . that's me doing the Electric Slide, later that night.
What can I say? You have to live while you're alive.
jammin
electricslide
