By Brittney Barber
Free Press Columnist
Looking across the booth, I observe the tipsy faces in front of me. Wavering, laughing, gawking and drinking. I have the wonderful privilege of socializing with some cool cats this evening at the Brickhouse jam night.
Grinning with all of my teeth on display, my foot taps repeatedly on the floor; I’m filled with a mix of eagerness and impatience.
I glance up at Josh and grin even harder. Turning my attention to the stage, I see a man behind the mic beckon me up.
I haven’t played guitar in months, which is not like me.
The whiskey seems to be going down easier than chocolate milk tonight and I am literally bobbing up and down with excitement.
Josh shakes his head at me with a face that says ‘biggest dork on the planet’, yet, my grin is still in place. I’m pumping my fists and bobbing my head back and forth; full dork in flow. I throw back another whiskey to grease up the ol’ vocal chords.
As I walk to the stage, it feels as though my life has shifted into slow motion. I feel like I’m in a fish bowl; the voices of the crowd blurring, the lights smudging together; plus the whiskey making my heartbeat loud and clear.
I take the big step up onto the stage. This is the part where I get a shiny meat-sweat over my forehead and my hands start to shake uncontrollably, but my grin was still untouched.
Stopping for a moment to take in the good vibes of the crowd, I gently place my left hand to play an A7 and with slow intention, I catch each string downward with my thumb. This chord always reminds me of a cool evening sun back home.
The crowd wasn’t at my beck and call tonight; everyone was too busy having a good time. However, this was all I needed.
La di da di dah dum I sang, plucking each note tenderly. “Hello, this is a song I wrote just before I left home.”
