Come one, come all to the Volcano room!
Truly a modest sum of spectators
making the pilgrimage to the outskirts of McMinneville
along a gravel path with dense canopies closing in
verdant green, dark, damp, nearly impenetrable
333' below the surface lies a grand, yet intimate scene.
Fit for a performance like none other
soulful, deeply nourishing, invigorating
waves of sound
a crescendo
crashing and reverberating off of the limestone
Night Train
a veritable blanket of music
waves expressing the bluegrass blues.
A bayou boogie
a deep southern twist
that gets the feet tapping in unison
as if under a spell
cannot stop, will not stop
tapping, tapping, tapping
in a rhythm
in a trance
in a state of bliss
mesmerized in a crowded room
lulled by the riffs from a slide guitar.
Nothing seems to matter much now
worries, anxieties, and concerns go the way of the impassioned solo
notes simply fading away at the end of each song.
Vibrations absorbed into the stone
along with the energy of the spectators.
A melting pot of passion is found here
in this cavern and nowhere else.
Or so it seems to those present in the moment
to bear supreme witness
to a performance exuding greatness.
The stuff that makes legends out of artists immemorial
Tab Benoit at the peak of his powers
enthralling
genuine
comedic even.
The lone bat hanging from the ceiling agrees.
The Grand Lady quivers in anticipation
of more melodies to come
from the heart of a man
seeped in swamp muck
who knows how to navigate the turbid waters
telling the secrets of the bayou
to all who are willing to listen.
Intimate company
to see a humble man pour his very soul
out onto the stage
percolating into the rock beneath it
on what may otherwise be
a nondescript southern afternoon.
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