Shinybass Journal Entry 04/14/26

When would you go see? (What?)

 

 

A few years back, I was sitting in the jump seat of our tour bus (for the uninitiated, the jump seat is the passenger seat next to the driver of a tour bus) and my cell phone switched between networks or towers. At the moment I looked down at my phone, the clock adjusted itself one minute in reverse, essentially giving me one more minute of the day.

In that moment (or I guess I had two now), I was hit with a notion: time travel. Not like H.G. Wells or anything, but rather a more focused notion. If I could have one minute again in my life, where and when would it be? My phone gave me an extra minute, so what if I could have that gift to use at will?

And yes, the minutes are a gift. Every one. I waste them, you waste them. When we’re in the middle of something, whether mundane or epic, we don’t think, we just exist, which is the best, right? The best kind of gift and the worst, since they are finite…

I think I may have texted my family in that moment to describe what happened with the phone and asked for their ‘minute list’. I made a short list that included hearing relatives tell stories, or being in a favorite restaurant of our childhood. Amazing how this feels to type now, wanting just 60 seconds of something.

How long is a 60-second hug? This is not a trick question at all, but, if appropriate, time your next hug. What did you get? 2-5 seconds? If you hug someone for more than 20 seconds, the magic starts to happen – the release of oxytocin, lowering of anxiety, boosting of immune function, and the emotional feeling of connection and security go higher as well. My wife hipped me to these facts, and we used to practice the long hugs for these reasons. I’d certainly use a good part of my one minute with her on this.

As parents, we all try (unsuccessfully) to hold on. ‘Don’t grow up so quickly’, ‘Stop time’ we say. It doesn’t happen. (Name drop ahead) I saw a post by my friend Melissa Joan Hart, part-time witch and mother of 3 boys who said she wished she could go back and spend one hour with her boys each year. If you try this time travel, you’ll need to know nap times because otherwise the trip would be a wash…)

I thought this was a curious notion as well. Why have a minute when we could have an hour? Then it hit me. Culture! Arts! Music!

What if we could go back in time and witness musical moments that are important to us? Simple rules: We get one hour per decade. That’s it. I’ll set it at 8 hours (that’s a decent working day, right?) So we get any hour within the 10 year span of a decade. Why only one per decade? Well, a lot happens in the span of 10 years so we actually have to think and debate and make good choices. You have 8 decades to span in total to sit for one hour as a fly on the wall – without influencing the moment ‘’Hey Prince – want to try ‘Purple Rain’ instead of ‘Lucid Rain’? (I don’t know if that was a thing, but it sounded good when I typed it.)

So this is going to be interactive. Pick 8, pick one, then drop me a comment. I’d really like to hear where you wish you could have been and when.

Now, selfishly, I will choose my 8. I thought about this for a while, and some were easy for me, others not. I mean, historically, I’d like to sit watch Mozart do his thing, perhaps tie in 2 birds with one stone and sit in on a young Thomas Jefferson as he took violin lessons. Maybe I head to hear Vivaldi debut the Four Seasons? Do I want to smell Woodstock? Do I want to be witness to Thriller as it is recorded? The possibilities are endless, really. Here we go.

In NO particular order…

1959 – The Quarrymen. Yes, John, Paul, George, and some select other Skiffle kids started in 1956, then were playing the Cavern Club as the Quarrymen. I’d like to see Beatles ‘Pre-Beatles’ and it also sneaks me into Beatles territory with keeping the very relevant 1960s in tact.

1922 – I’d like to hear a young Louis Armstrong with King Oliver’s band in Chicago. Louis was around 21 at the time, and finding his trumpet style. I’d like to be in a club watching this band for an hour.

Speaking of dive bars…1936 I’d watch Blues Great Robert Johnson in a juke joint on the chitlin circuit. I want to hear this expression and this legend in his rawest form.

Speaking of Legend, I choose 1914 to see a young Jellyroll Morton begin his piano journey.

Let’s jump to the 80s. I want to be in the control room when Van Halen Records ‘Hot For Teacher’. I know, I know. Pop hit Halen, so many other places I could have hit in the 80s. This is my moment, you list yours…

In 1940, I want to hear Nat King Cole live. Again, theater, small club, whatever. I want to hear that vocal resonance through me. I will sit right next to the stage (invisibly, I know).

1978, New York, New York. CBGB’s. The Police. This was their American debut, with no one in the audience, and they played extended jams as they only had the first record. Raw, unpolished, unapologetic, and unknown.

1966 – Memphis, Tennessee, Stax Records. I want to see a young Otis Redding (along with a crushing band) record ‘Try a Little Tenderness’. That song has all the ‘things’ for me. B3 goodness, the horns, the ‘Cropper chop’, the voice, and the energy by the end is like a freight train running past the station.

1904 (or thereabouts) I’d like to hear Scott Joplin play. If he could do it while a Vaudeville show was happening, I’d be a happy boy.

I know there are so many less ‘mainstream’ moments out there. I get it. Since records take days (and sometimes years), I opted for a lot of live performances, which, as we know, is where the real connection is made.

Speaking of connection, let’s dip back about 6 years. We moved into our new house, and started seeing people around the neighborhood. We do the friendly thing, and we say hi to everyone, give a little back story, and of course say ‘Hey, we’re here if you need something.’ We met an elderly woman, and she said her husband was a retired musician and that I needed to visit with him.

Not soon after that exchange, COVID hit, and there was a distancing thing that most elderly people were doing, which is totally fine. One day, out of the blue, we finally sat down and talked. I was amazed as he told me all about his fascinating life. He did it. I mean, did it. New York top call session ace, played for Presidents, swam in the Mediterranean with Omar Sharif (next to the Onassis yacht with Jackie in tow), and played for Liza Minelli, who was a family friend of theirs until the end.

My neighbor was not doing well. His dedicated wife, Ann, had a lot on her plate, and told me he was having a lot of trouble in a lot of ways. He said not to worry, as he had been living with cancer for 30 years. Ron Keller died a short time later.

So, if I may, I’d like to modify my rules just a hair and transport for one hour to 1962, where a very young Ron Keller was playing lead trumpet for Stan Kenton and his Orchestra. Peanut Vendor for me, Ron.

OK, you have your homework. Drop me a musical event you would have liked to witness firsthand. Milli Vanilli recording vocals doesn’t count…