Hanging out at a certain bar. Normally, I would be in the far corner, away from the action. But my favorite seat was denied me by the bartender. I wind up sitting just off the dance floor and I’m anxious as fuck. I don’t like sitting in the middle of things. Several men suddenly sit down around me. “Not planted in your pot, young Miss? We don’t bite, relax.” “He don’t bite women that can bite back he means!” “Do you fucking mind, I’m trying to be proper here! Show some damn respect for the lady!” “I will, when you will, playa!”
I thought the two men were going to come to blows right there. Another of the men leaned across the table towards me. “Them two are brothers. Always in each other’s shit, ya know. We don’t mean ya any harm. Just thought we’d come sit here before lesser men do. We all just talk, and we heard you know stories.” They reminded me of friends long gone. I didn’t feel threatened. Stiff formality was outside in a ditch somewhere. Okay, I’ll relax.
“God dammit, Ray! Do you have to bring up that conniving witch every time I want to talk to a lady?” “You ain’t never cleared your head of her! Damn right I’m going to bring her up! You need to work that shit out!” What an interesting turn of phrase.
“Lemme guess. He thinks he can just walk it off.” Rum arrives at the table, coffee for me. They all take a chug before answering me. They finally introduce each other with the names they want to wear tonight and start teasing Stanley about his ex-wife. Stanley portrayed himself as the victim, but to everyone else, it was clear he brought his fate on himself. In the end, she had gone to a swamp witch, and Stanley’s luck with women came to an immediate halt, as did his marriage, and eventually, his life. Didn’t seem to slow him down. But then, I bite, I’m off the menu.
We all tell stories to each other, and I find myself actually relaxing. There’s no music in the bar tonight, but that doesn’t damper any. People are still being rowdy, still drinking, still carrying on, still going. So full of joy of self, a soundtrack would ruin it.
It got runt.
A stranger arrives, with speakers and a few bits of gear. He set up on the stage, and declared himself a blues master. The bar fell silent. Someone asked where was his guitar. The stranger patted his laptop. “All I need is right here. The only thing it can’t do is sing, and I’ll do that.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” “Î dunno, but he’s looking to challenge someone.” “He better get a stick and scratch that itch. This ain’t Georgia, and there’s worse than the Devil walkin’ ‘round.” We all nodded and nursed our drinks.
His setup complete, he began. His backup music was good, I’ll have to admit. But it was canned, and evidently so. It was blues being played, but it lacked soul. I knew that was not the computer’s fault. No soul went into the creation of the music, so no soul came out.”
The stranger mistook technical perfection as mastery and proclaimed himself the new blues player.
“Brother.” “Yes, brother.” “Let’s go teach this little shit what blues is.” “Right on, brother.” The brothers left the table while the third man chuckled into his chipped glass. “I forgot to tell you, those two are musicians. When they ain’t fight’n over women, they’re singing how pale their world is without ‘em.” The brothers came back with music gear and a costume. The stranger would not allow them to set up on stage, so they set up on the floor. They called out a few other players to finish their number then brought the red costume to me.
“I can’t sing!”, I protested. “You don’t have to.” “I don’t know the songs!” “You don’t have to.” “I can’t dance!” “Even better!”
Okay, what am I doing?” They want me to wear the mascot-type costume. A cartoonish cariacture of a tall black man in a bright and vivid red suit. I have no idea who it is supposed to represent, but as I don it, there are shouts and laughter from the crowd.
“I can barely see! What am I supposed to be doing?” “Act stupid. Use the music to guide you and just be stupid about it.”
They start playing and I start pantomining. Their first song is about Stanley and his ex, but from his brother Ray’s point of view. I act out Stanley’s point of view. The crowd is laughing.
The music is imprecise, the instruments lose their tuning quickly, the voices of the men break and rattle, and the presence of the mascot throws everything off. But you could feel the soul in your bones. They poured soul unto their music, and it was amplified in the making so what came out was enough for everyone. Everyone willing to accept it, that is. Which the stranger was not going to do.
The stranger tried to drown them out by plugging in an amplifier, and wound up blowing the building’s fuse. Candles and lanterns were quickly lit. Stanley, Ray, and the others never stopped playing.
Their point now made, the brothers had one last chance to twist the knife. “Now y’all know this my brother. And we up in here playing blues. I guess that makes us blues brothers. Guess we outta play like Blues Brothers. Wha’dya’think?” The crowd starts cheering. “Everybody! Need somebody! Everybody, need somebody to love!”
They played the movie rendition of the song, while I’m going nuts in the costume. At the chorus of “I need you! You! You!” I’m pointing to everyone at random like I’m throwing benedictions. Finally, the end call comes. “Awwww……… Yeaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”
Gentle hands pull me aside and start helping me remove the costume. I’m sweaty, funky, and laughing. Hands clap me on my back thanking me for helping. I look for the stranger, but he’s gone. In my favorite corner is a familiar man at my favorite chair. Silently, he lifts his cracked glass to me and winks. Behind me, the music starts up again, but it’s time for me to go.
I exit the bar chuckling.
I wake up chuckling.
Good morning.
It is not lost on me, the musicians that played the blues with soul played from the floor before the stage. What is that area formally called in music halls and theatres? The Pit.