for those about to rock

when the saints go marching in

on my way back to the office, i noticed that one of the nearby streets had been closed off, and that loose groups of people were casually milling about along the sidewalk beyond the barricades.

i had a few minutes, so i walked over and hung by the periphery of the crowds to see what was going on. the focus was on the back of a blue pick up truck, where what appeared to be a jazz band was finishing the set up of their instruments. shortly thereafter, the group jump-started into an upbeat, almost brassy number, with the trumpeter handling all the melody lines and the guitarist comping slightly mute, round and bassy chords on a gibson les paul.

i was chewing on the fact that i've rarely seen guys playing jazz on such a guitar -- usually, the guitarist goes with a larger semi-hollow body model -- when my attention diverted to a guy dressed like a franciscan monk that appeared to be conferring with the musicians, who leaned over close to hear what he had to say as they played. i wondered: is he their handler? their image consultant?

a kindly old woman interrupted my thoughts.

"would you like to buy a raffle ticket? a dollar for one, five dollars for six."

"oh. uh, yeah, sure. i'll take one. what is this for again?"

"this is to benefit the shrine."

"ah, see, now it all makes sense. i was wondering what that monk was doing with the band."

it turned out to be kind of a good joke, i think, if for no other reason than it was a sterile, unfunny statement of a simple fact, and we shared an unexpected laugh before exchanging pleasantries and parting ways, me thinking that it was nice to connect on an unspoken level with a stranger, and that the bourbon street feel on a sunny afternoon in boston seemed perfectly appropriate.

posted by jomilkman @ 11:12 AM