Dream Time

Last night was the end of Hamfist's Winter Tour of Downtown Ashland, our four-week circumnavigation of a six block radius. We closed the "tour" at Caldera and packed the place. Admittedly, it only takes 30-40 people to pack the place, but we knew less than half the people in the room. It's good to know we can draw a crowd of people who are NOT our friends. It was a strong, tight show and I had a blast - well, except for a couple of times when I thought I was about to pass out onstage, but that's another story.

We played every weekend during the month of January and February brings a much-needed break. We will continue working on the soundtrack for Laney's short animated film, but other than that, February is dream time. We can learn new songs, re-arrange the old ones, throw some ideas around. We may even finally record the long-awaited Hamfist Christmas album.

We're at an interesting place musically. I fear that our varied interests may pull us in separate directions. My fascination with early jazz and blues is taking me further away from the cornpone vibe. The deep, old mountain tunes that haunt my mind are about as close as I come to "country" any more. I'm writing some songs of my own, but they aren't really Hamfist material. I don't know what they are, but I probably won't break them out with the band. Our shows are definitely not about people sitting quietly and listening intently. We play music that makes people move. I love that, I love whipping a crowd into a frenzy. It is a powerful feeling. I'm hooked.

But then the crowd thins out, Jesse and I start noodling, he launches into Paul Simon's America and we sing it note for note, word for word. My voice swells, the harmonies vibrate perfectly and a feeling washes through me that is indescribable. Balance and clarity and grace course through my veins. Everybody in the room stops and listens and, for one moment, I hold them all in the palm of my hand. For a few seconds, I hypnotize them with my voice.

Those moments complete me. They make me whole.