First, let me thank all who have attended the last string of concerts the band and I have given. It has been both a surprise and thrill, something like a homecoming, being that in most cases I hadn’t shown my likes for almost twenty years—in the case of Annapolis, missing in action since 1977. Great to see you all sitting there with smiles on your faces. It makes a singer work a little harder for the money.
The Saving Grace of Jimbo Black is something I wrote during those couple of weeks on the road—think somewhere between Maryland and Montreal. It will be posted shortly.
Some of you might be aware of the stage accident I experienced in Europe a little over a year ago, reeking havoc on my ears (eventually a whole lot more) These verses, soon to be in song form, refer to the incident, but more importantly, play on a universal theme. Jimbo Black, actual neighbor to my recording studio in Oregon, is a man misjudged and held in low esteem by others because of his appearance, mannerisms, and a banged –up old pickup tattooed with all kinds of ‘furious’ bumper slogans parked in plain sight. I would have to throw myself in with the lot who have a near-sighted view of Jimbo, though mine being more a sin of omission, not giving ol’ Jim any real consideration until coming to know him first hand. In this case, I come to know Jimbo by first seeking his professional advice regarding my ears.
There are messengers in our midst, disregarded for loud mouths, makeshift wears, loose dentures and backfiring beaters. If we give them half a chance to make themselves known to us we might come to see them in a completely different light. What’s more, we may profit from their wisdom or example.