The Jazz Lounge

The Guitar Player

One beautiful morning a guy was strolling along the beach in a languid manner. He reminded me of a Hippy from the 1970's: grandad t-shirt, long hair, beard, flared trousers, and battered Chelsea boots. He was also carrying a guitar. As he passed he stopped for a moment and asked "Mind if I sit in and jam?". Indeed I didn't.

"What would you like to play?" I asked "Oh, anything man - you start and I will drop in"

This sounded promising. He was obviously confident and knows what he's doing. I started a moderately paced blues in Bb. He listened and then started to play. I use the word 'play' in the loosest possible way for he was completely out of tune, had no sense of rhythm, and was hammering away at the guitar as if he wanted to destroy it. I stopped and watched him for about 30 seconds. Then he stopped (thankfully).

I looked around to see this was some sort of prank that my mates had set up - but there was no one there. I looked at the guitarist and he looked back. For a moment no-one said anything until he broke the silence.

"Man, that was good" he declared. I fumbled for the response. "Words, just can't describe it" I blurted out.

He seemed pleased. He offered a fist pump and he was on his way. "Thanks man - I enjoyed it" he said and wandered off along the seafront.

I hope that he remembers me when he is playing on the Pyramid stage at Glasonbury