WWB Saturday Jam

On Saturday morning, I left home early with my son and drove across the mountain to my mom's place in Walnut, where I took out the trash, did the grocery shopping and fixed up her meds for the week. (My wife was gone to Ahoskie, North Carolina, for a family reunion.) After that, my son and I headed for Spruce Pine and the reunion of the White Water Band. We stopped in Burnsville for a bite at Burger King, and Jim called as we were leaving. The rest of the guys—Harlan, Terry, Kirk and Jim—were set to arrive in just a few minutes. By the time I was 10 minutes away from Jim's place in the Snow Creek area, Jim called again to say they were ready to play, and he gave me directions to the practice den.

Jim's practice place is a building that his grandfather built part of and then Jim added to. A set of outside stairs take you to the second floor, where you entered a small kitchen area. Straight ahead is a doorway that goes into a larger space. As soon as you enter this area, a table and couches are around you, and in front of you is a wall of equipment—amplifiers, PA system, drums. It's a wonderful setup.

I think we were all anxious to play together again after more than 30 years. At the same time, however, I think we were anxious—in another sense of the word—about how it would sound. The White Water experience has loomed large in our lives for a long time. Did we just imagine that it was as special as we've all believed it to be?

So, within a few minutes after we were back together again, we took up our old positions—Kirk behind the drums, Terry and Jim and Harlon (bass) with guitars slung on in front of their amps, I behind the center microphone. A weird and wonderful moment!

But what to play? We began with something we'd never played together before—a blues classic called "Key to the Highway." Now, I don't sing the blues. Never have cared much for the genre. Jim sang the first verse to give me a jumpstart. I had the lyric from the Internet and just went for it.

From that first piece, it was an amazing experience. We ran through "Long Train Runnin'," "Locomotive Breath," some Lynyrd Skynyrd and ZZ Top. None of this was rehearsed—not for over 30 years, as I said—and while that fact was obvious here and there, especially with endings, we had lots of really good moments, in spite of the years. I remember thinking several times in the first set we did, 'Is this really sounding and feeling as good as I think it is?' When we took a break and talked later, I found out that the same thoughts were in the other guys' minds as well. What a thrill to learn that our memories of the White Water Band hadn't been deceptions or the decay of an ideal. It was good. And now we were individually better at what we do than we were back then, which, coupled with a kind of nostalgic enthusiasm and group instinct, is probably what made so many good moments. We had a tightness at times that was as if we'd been practicing all along for 30 years. We had dynamics and emotion in the music we made. Amazing!

The only disappointment (besides my wife's absence) was that Jobie wasn't able to make it on Saturday (although we saw him on Sunday). Ben manned the soundboard alone as we played, and Karen, Harlon's sister faithfully as always cheered us on from the wings, as, on this day, did most of Harlon's immediate family—wife Tammy, daughters Kya and Layla and two grandchildren (whose names I remember but hesitate to try to spell). Jim's wife Laura was there, as were Terry's wife Kay and Ben's wife Lisa. Of course, my son Raleigh was there, and after the first set, he played the rest of the night with us or whoever else might take the stage for a jam. And lots of Spruce Pine and Bakersville folk dropped in later to witness the event.

Jim and Laura and Terry and Kay put together a handful of pictures from the old days. I'll try to get those scanned and uploaded soon.

More on Sunday coming.