Don, the guy from Documentation, gave me a flyer. Actually, it was a party invitiation. A guy in his band throws these parties in his house twice a year. Last spring's party got cancelled on account of his wife still recovering from cataract surgery.

But I did go last fall, and I had such a great time that I was the last one to leave. With maybe one or two exceptions, I was certainly the youngest one there. Everybody else seemed to be my parents' age or a few years younger sort of the baby boomer generation, but also some from "the blank generation". Yes, that is the term for those born in the 50s. Rather liberal/Democrat group of folks. I much prefer going to parties like this, where everybody's acting responsible, some planning and good food went into the event, and the place looks great. I don't care for a party with nothing to eat (not even a lame ass bowl of chips), no drinks (short of beer), and a bunch of other 20-somethings playing alternative music and doing bong hits. Sure, everybody was married, but maybe there's just less bullshit that way. Any one who's been regularly reading this has probably already read my rants on the hit-on/pick-up scene. Anyway, back to the fun descriptions.

The height of the fun last year though, was being able to pick up a bass and jam. The band did two sets of their mixed originals and covers, and anybody who wanted to jam in between those sets or afterwords was welcome to. I ran though some Real Book standards with a young keyboard player who was there. It was quite an easy crowd. And to at least one guy there who didn't know the secrets of jazz improvisation, he expressed his amazement that two musicians who never met before could pull something off so quick. Later on I had the new challenge of trying to fit a bass line under a Brazilian vocal melody I never heard before, when one of the guests came up to the mic. And the night was finished off with a bunch of 60s rock covers and the like: Hey Joe, Voodo Chile, House of the Rising Sun, etc. When you've heard the song before and have a chord chart though, you can usually pick up on how to play it right away.

So this all more or less happened again this year too. But I brought my own bass this time. And as luck would have it, one of the fake books had "More Today Than Yesterday"!! It was transcribed a whole step down (probably because the average person can't hit those notes in the melody), but it was the song after all. Then the singer/guitarist pulled out the sheet and started playing it. He wasn't stopping, and I tried my best to catch on before the 2 minute song ended, getting confused with the transcribed way I learned it from the mp3, and the sheets in front of me (which, even shifted, didn't fully match what I was playing). But at least I had the opportunity to pull it off.

Later on I got together with R and another guitar player. Oh, and occasionally this hefty soprano sax player from the Eastern Bloc. He improvised with the melodies and what not, and the crowd seemed to love it. Now last year, even after the main band dispersed, we still had a drummer around. This time, no drummer. Yet I still saw couples in the room who were dancing. If dancers have no drums to follow, then the next best thing is to follow the bass. So I'm trying to hold down the groove as best I can, clicking the pick-ups in search of some remotely percussive sound. We played Sympathy for the Devil (twice), Happy Together, some Beatles tunes, attempts at Doors songs, and other stuff. We even played two OTHER favorites of mine, that I never thought I'd ever get to play with somebody in 100 years: The Rolling Stones "Gimme Shelter" and ZZ Top's "What's Up With That". Just like that other song I mentioned earlier, it didn't go as smooth as I had hoped, but damn, I did get to play those songs.

And we played "Gloria" by request; too bad Gloria herself couldn't be there that weekend. Though come to think of it, my girlfriend at the time last year couldn't make it for THAT party. And both years I met some signer or poetry reader at the party who was a bit older, perhaps unattractive by most but to me very attractive in some strange way. Hmm. Maybe I have GOOD reoccuring things around this season every year too?

But after the party, and even the next day, I got a feeling that I haven't felt in years.

It was a feeling that I used to get every day, yet hadn't truly felt in eons before I got home that night and sat down. And that feeling came back yet again, the day after as I was sitting around my apartment on a lazy Sunday afternoon. That hunger. That itch.

To just pick up my bass and play.