A Sublime Moment, 1968

(Being a response to a Rickie Lee Jones post.)

I grew up in Calumet City, a south Chicago suburb. Back then (1968), on Friday nights Chicago's PBS affiliate (WTTW, channel 11) had a program featuring live-in-the studio performances by bands passing through town, usually performing at the Aragon Ballroom. One night, the featured artist was Taj Mahal (the classic line-up with Jesse Ed Davis, Gary Gilmore, and "Cloudy" Chuck Blackwell). I was a 14-year-old kid bass player, absorbing all things musical, but this was new and exciting stuff. The next day, my buddy Dave and I took the South Shore into The Loop to pay a visit to Rose Records on Wabash Avenue. Once there, I found Traffic's second album right away, which was my original reason for the visit. But then I picked up The Natch'l Blues, Taj Mahal’s latest album. A little later, heading up to the checkout counter, I came face to face with the man himself (the aisles were narrow). "Hey. You're the guy from Taj Mahal! I saw you on TV last night."

"Did you enjoy it?"

I held up his album. "Yeah, I did. I play,too. I play bass. I'm not real good, though."

"Stick with it, little brother, and it'll come to you."

Now, it's 57 years later, and I stuck with it. To this day, no one has ever said anything about my musical pursuits that has meant as much to me as those ten words. I was just a goofball kid. He didn't have to say anything, but he did. A sublime moment.