Madge on the prowl, and Jack the Invisible Man -'cos he reckoned I never mentioned him...
It has been dark and cold in Refinery Terrace, Altona West, of late. Madge has, it would seem, taken to roaming the streets of Nether Colliwobble, with an eye for the main chance. It has been a while, and we all know what that means… Enough to strike fear into the souls of the most artery-hardened denizens of that industrial wasteland, who have, in terror quite possibly, taken to the Gold Street Gossip shop in increasing numbers of late, prepared to withstand the aural assaults of the Sunday Arvo jam in preference to the blood curdling screams of a slow runner, caught out late with Madge about.
They have started liking the jazz in the front bar. Good grief!
Now, where was I, ah yes, the jam session. Nothing out of the ordinary really, just the biggest line-up yet (31 musos, and I refuse to name the guilty) and an ever higher standard of musicianship. Poor old Captain Chaos looked, well, stuffed by the end of it, and so he should be – cattle prodding that line-up is hard work. Mr T no better, having played bass without a break for nearly 4 hours by the time I left.
Who done what…
So, a few mentions, just because. Chelly got up and nailed it convincingly, as did Lisbeth – the cruise ship contingent (clari and trom) blew us all away, Bob played Satin Doll as only Bob can, with Melinda trying to keep up, props to Bruce C from Sydney for turning up after his night at the Grand, and a welcome to Adrian from the Elwood RSL Blues jam, sadly no more (the jam, not Adrian). Six drummers, six saxes, five singers and everyone you could think of turned up except….
The Invisible Man:
I dare not mention Jack of course, who is never there, not even slightly, or so he tells me. I would not care to argue the point with a man wielding 14’6” of brass piping.
Yup, mangled a few, for old time’s sake. TW