After the passing of recent music legends like Lemmy and Bowie, I wrote a story, posted here a few months ago. So now, here's this.
Rock on.
Purple Requiem
Copyright 2016
Amid the haze of smoke, myriad voices and sometimes raucous laughter, clink of melting ice cubes against glass, and the thunk of beer bottles on a tabletop, there was music.
In this place, there was always music.
But right now, what broke through those various sounds was the unmistakable riffs of the man standing up on the small stage, wearing a 19th century dark military jacket, faded bell bottom jeans, and a bright blue paisley bandanna wrapped around his Afro. Because he was a lefty, he played his electric guitar upside down.
A slight figure approached the stage, quietly, almost shyly, even though many in the place knew who he was, not to mention definite admirers of his solely unique, signature musical prowess.
The guitar player noticed the man, who stood before the stage holding his own trademark six-string instrument, white and stylishly designed. One of many, in fact.
"Hey man, nice jacket," the guitarist said coolly, while he kept playing. He'd always liked purple.
"Mind if I join you?" asked the smaller man, who gazed up at Jimi Hendrix with something close to reverence.
"Come on up, brother," replied Hendrix, with a wry grin. "Let's jam."
Purple Requiem
Copyright 2016
Amid the haze of smoke, myriad voices and sometimes raucous laughter, clink of melting ice cubes against glass, and the thunk of beer bottles on a tabletop, there was music.
In this place, there was always music.
But right now, what broke through those various sounds was the unmistakable riffs of the man standing up on the small stage, wearing a 19th century dark military jacket, faded bell bottom jeans, and a bright blue paisley bandanna wrapped around his Afro. Because he was a lefty, he played his electric guitar upside down.
A slight figure approached the stage, quietly, almost shyly, even though many in the place knew who he was, not to mention definite admirers of his solely unique, signature musical prowess.
The guitar player noticed the man, who stood before the stage holding his own trademark six-string instrument, white and stylishly designed. One of many, in fact.
"Hey man, nice jacket," the guitarist said coolly, while he kept playing. He'd always liked purple.
"Mind if I join you?" asked the smaller man, who gazed up at Jimi Hendrix with something close to reverence.
"Come on up, brother," replied Hendrix, with a wry grin. "Let's jam."
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