Trickling in with the rest, I was a little disappointed by the thin crowd at first. Comforting was the familiar smiles and faces that I’ve come to know over the years. The stage at Kimo’s seemed a bit crowded as Brian Harrison and his band tuned up for which seemed a bit too long. The audio engineer was busy running back and forth determined to get the sound just right. I cautiously greeted Jim McClaren with a quick friendly fist as he held his guitar and got comfortable with his harmonica Dylan style. A few hugs and hand shakes later the tables began to fill. A bit discouraged, I decided to get to know the popular venue. My taller than a cello friend Toy informed me that the walls and ceiling were transformed from a dark pitch black to a colorful frenzy similar to a tasteful graffiti. I thought the pipes that hugged the ceiling were a bit more beautiful than other ceiling pipes I’ve seen. Before I knew it, the Brian Harrison Band ignited with confidence and professionalism. Everything seemed perfect from the onset. The sound levels were good to my ears and the lighting was enough to see colorful rosy cheeks. It was nice to see dual harmonicas. After being lost in the music for a spell, I looked behind me to find a full bar of people. Groups of girls and several round tables of friends began to fill my view. I ordered myself a light Stella when a smiling feline whiskered a friendly greeting. Sounds of a great song “Guilty” filled my head as I melted into the smooth facial features of my new friend Christine. I struggled not to be rude as I flipped back and forth from Christine and the music. I was happy and the music helped me feel good.
Time flies when you’re having fun. Laughter and echo’s bounced around. “Who’s Lonnie?” “Where’s Lonnie?” “Are you Lonnie?” “You look like Lonnie”. I stumbled to correct as I stated “I wish!”. Lonnie Lazar and the Vaporizer’s bass player Rickie squeezed up to the bar and greeted his friend Christine. He introduced himself to me with a kind soft spoken voice. I instantly knew I liked this person. The venue was packed. The large dance floor was trampled under foot. And the band was waiting on stage. “Who’s Lonnie?” “Where’s Lonnie?” “Are you Lonnie?” “You look like Lonnie”. As I began to answer, the man and father took the stage. “Do you like to dance?” I asked as the Vaporizer machine began to turn. I guess “Down in Memphis” they don’t dance much. This crowd needed a jump start. She asked me to dance with myself so I obliged. Turning and spinning and trying to avoid equipment, I felt the energy of this crafted masterpiece rattle my bones. I wanted to dance forever. Everyone soon caught on to my lead as I saw a bunny rabbit hop around closer to the stage. Before I could say “I know what love is”, the jamboree of people pushed me back to the bar where I ordered another light beer. The dance floor was creaking. The walls were humming. My testosterone was reeling. This was a show in every sense of the word. It looked like people actually flew in as I witnessed a pretty kitten roll her air luggage across the floor. My friend Christine was gone nowhere to be found. I focused on the lyrics to a song I can’t name at this point, but it jerked my heart with a story of a veteran soldier with metal in his flesh and no legs. He was from the hills of Tennessee. I could see the passion in Lonnie Lazars eyes as he wondered if anyone actually heard the subject over the solid beat of the precise and loud drummer. This was a rare show coming from the man, husband, and father who plays at the annual “High Sierra Festival” in Quincy, California. My attention span began to fade. I wanted to stay but I had to go. So I said my goodbyes and I headed on home … but I’ll be back!