Drifting Through Paradise

The band at MoJo’s last night was pretty good, I didn’t catch their name though. It was a five piece band, well five people anyway. The guy on the far right did the singing and also played acoustic guitar and harmonica with a style like Dylan (Bob not Thomas). The guy on the far left sat on a stool and played the blues guitar with an attitude like Clapton had in the 80’s. Next to him was the drummer, slow easy style keeping the pace. Back over to the right next to the singer was a girl, she had a violin in her hand, but I never did hear or see her play it. Other than standing there swaying her hips and rocking back and forth looking pretty, I don’t think she did anything. But she was nice to look at. The fifth guy in the band sat in the middle of the others. He was playing the Conga’s.  The music was a mix of the Doors meets Pink Floyd. Then the cat on the conga’s came in slow and light with a touch, slowly building to floreo. I was lost in the SKA backbeat of the conguero, my body slowly moving to the Afro-Caribbean beat. Watching the five of them up on the stage, I could see they were just as lost in the music as I.
The Clapton-esq guitar, sitting on the stool with his head down, working the fret board. The drummer next to him rocking his head as tapped out the rhythm on the tom-toms and crash  cymbol, the singer playing his guitar and singing the lyrics, his mic was set so the lyrics were in the background as they allowed the music to stay in the front. The pretty girl with the violin swaying in her own world to the beats of conguero as he pounded out a rhythm that was  moving everyone in the place.
The conversations in the restaurant continued in their normal din, but when you looked around everyone in the place was being moved by this cat on percussion. Everyone in the place was swaying as they talked, the music flowed through us all as the group on stage played and guided the tunes. After listening to them for half an hour, it was time for me to go home.

I climbed in the kayak pushed off from the dock, but didn’t paddle. I sat there and let the current take me where it wanted. The fish jumping, the wind across the water, the crickets and birds, and way off in the distance, faint but there its was, the sounds of the congas from up the street. I continued to drift away, not just on the water, but in the music as well. After a few minutes I couldn’t hear the drums anymore, I was too far away now. I listened to the sound of silence and nature. But for just a little I was completely lost in the music….

Damn I wish I knew the name of that band.

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