I recently received a wonderful parting gift from George Zizzos. The DVD of the Jimmy Jam show in May 2014. The show brought together working musicians with luminaries from the past. I even appeared as if I were playing in a few clips.
The Jam was a benefit for Jimmy Jarvenon for his upcoming liver transplant. The afternoon was eerily prophetic of my current situation. I love irony, but this was just too ironic.
I played my ass off in 2014 reaching the 7,000 gig milestone. Little did I suspect that they would be among my last. My strength and stamina started to wane toward the end of the year. Something was clearly not right. I haven't been sick a day in my life, other than self-inflicted.
The players were superb that day. So much talent for one tiny stage. It was staggering and humbling to be invited onstage.
My first failure came for the St. Patrick's Day weekend, the first St. Paddy's I'd ever missed. I rehearsed with my great friend Jeff Pierson earlier in the week. I couldn't squeeze the accordion and was barely able to press Hammond keys. Plus, I couldn't remember a chord pattern to save my arse. Forget about lyrics.
The biggest sign was that I couldn't play House of the Rising Sun, a song that I've performed since 1965. It is one of my signature songs featuring solos that Allen Price applauded.
The problem was buildup of Ammonia in my brain. I couldn't think, I couldn't play and my body refused to respond to commands. At that point I was merely days away from death.
The Jimmy Jam lifted my spirits in 2014 like no other event. I didn't know most of the musicians at the venue save for George and his brother and Mick Jackson, Still there was a brotherhood of aging rockers doing what they love best.
Other high points in the year were playing Homegrown with the Blackwater Tribe featuring my sons and private gigs with my souls mate Wanda Boudreaux, and of course the Florida gigs with the great Spade McQuade and Woody & The Peckers.
Unfortunately, there is no blues scene in Duluth. There are a few competent players but no pros. Alarming is the number of NASCAR and Lynard Skynard fans.
Pardon the randomness of thought in this blog. Neurons are still misfiring like the fireworks barge that blew up in Lake Superior back in the 80's.
Currently, I'm doing much better but far from healed. I have lost 60 lbs in 3 months. If not for my too-wonderful for words daughter Jessica I probably would have expired months ago.
One of the revelations that occur when you're down like this is that you find out who your true friends are. For me it is a long list and I'll probably leave some out unintentionally. My angels are ER Nurse Donna Nasoff - a tireless care provider, Jeff Pierson who is as good a friend as anyone would dare ask for, Rick Arcusa and EMT and one of life's true heroes. Spade McQuade and Colleen McGready, Matt & Sarah Turnbull who have disproved the notion that Brits can't cook. Chuck & Tilly of Woody & The Peckers, Geno Phares drummer for WATP, Don Jordan - the Real Indiana Jones, Dan Loerke music student and vintage guitar collector, Adam Shirah guitarist for The All Stars, Karen LaBarbera who has edited each of my novels, and tons more that aren't appearing my depleted short term memory. I love them all deeply and hold them dearly.
Then there is the uninimitable Wanda Boudreaux - my female double. She has an unending store of energy and positivity that has blown me away for the past 50 years. Add to that wit and an amazing voice that goes from angelic to dirty blues in a measure. She is the most amazing person I've met in this life.
As for the video, Mick narrates in his trademark drier than vermouth voice that masks his true-blue loving nature.
I urge everyone to grab a copy of Jimmy Jam. It offers a true taste of the Duluth music scene gone by.
I'm going to be fine, eventually. --armond joy blackwater
