gingatao

Sitting In.

(scratching his head and lighting a cigarette) backlit olden days, we had to learn to sit in. I mean gigs were hard to get and you couldn’t learn a living with twenty minute solos. Touring artists who couldn’t afford to bring their own band, I saw Jimi squeezing the lizard into a light blue tux, Bootsy said, chuckling and handing me his sunglasses.

The best gig I ever had was in Berlin, sitting in on short notice with Bertolt Brecht, the arch conniver with a heart like Mother Courage. I looked over George Grosz shoulder as he sketched the audience, ha, and then who should step up to the microphone…

The leopard next to him arched its claws, relaxing in a way that accentuated their sharpness. Here, he said, take these, and handed me his sunnies, you’ll need them. Tell F. about Ozymandius and then go and play, that Herbie Hancock Riff
backwards.