Djangology

So there I stood in front of the old Baptist church, contemplating being converted. Should I stay or should I go.

The Baptist Church, tucked behind the shops off Ely High Street, had been converted into a music shop and I was there to look at mandolins (they had nothing I fancied) . The door wasn’t even visible to the main path. So, in order to attract worshippers the owner had hired some Djangologists to sit out front and enticed the nearly saved indoors.

I have to say I was indeed pulled along and stood practically converted, spell bound dare I say in front of these daemons of swing. This was powerful stuff, Daddio.

The very sight of a Maccaferri grande bouche was enough to set me pondering. Could I do that? Could I? Do I have enough faith to pull it off. All those minor 6/9ths and diminished chords? Just how hard can it be? After all Django did it with a hand so burned he could barely use 3 fingers.

As the petite bouche Selmer struck up the owner shouted over the top

“Just the weather for it don’t you think?” – indeed it was hot and indeed he was swinging.

“Do you play?”

“…”

“You should come along to our sessions … ” (Devil’s talk!) “… you don’t need one of these.” he added swivelling his immaculate box of gypsy strings around in his hand.

Another session? Can I fit it in? But it is Jazz and that has vitamins and it is educational with dots to read and all that. It would be … good for me. However Ely is 10 miles away. Perhaps a session too far?