It was the usual
kind of deal, only a bit extreme this time: 6 hours of time spent for two and a
half minutes of fun. Playing with a band can be like that, with endless
rehearsals, discussions, extra practice time, travel, setup, hanging around
waiting for the gig to start, on and on, all worth it (up to a point) for the
thrill that comes when the groove is deep and the dancers and audience follow
you there.
In this case it was
no band performance, just a ragtag gathering, whoever showed up, on the street
in Lahaina at the Halloween event, and playing on the fly. One by one we
assembled with our djembes and duns under the Banyen tree, shielding our eyes
from the generator-powered floodlights and fielding interrogations from the
security squad. Not allowed to play there, we headed to the other side of the
main stage where a lame costume contest was underway.
Five in all, we did
have familiarity with each other and the music, as we had jammed together for
years at the Little Beach drum dance party on Sunday afternoons. So it
worked, right off the bat as I set up a solid Senefoli on the duns (o - O - o -
- M o - S - o - O O), drawing a crowd of costumed dancers, first three or four,
then five, ten, thirty, away from the throng around the nearby stage. The
djembes started heating up, the pounding duns drove deeper, and then ... a tap
on my shoulder, mid-beat. Three cops behind me: “You gotta stop playing, right
now. Orders from the Command Post.”
Postscript:
Oh well, there’s
always Little Beach, and Paia Bay...
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