Morning Dew

Ahhh, Jeff Beck. To accompany the writing of this drivel, I threw in his masterpiece, Blow By Blow, and I'm glad I did. Beginning in high school, around my freshman year, I was exposed to Jeff Beck. I had heard him before that in The Yardbirds, but since I couldn't have told you what instrument he played if you told me his name, I'll venture to say it wasn't a true introduction. My sister owned a copy of Truth, his first solo album, on vinyl--- hell, everything was on vinyl--- and used to play it for me. I love that record. Rod Stewart kills on that record. "Morning Dew" is gorgeous and my love of the song has not wavered in twenty years. It still gives me the chills. (Originally, the above was expressed differently. I omitted it for reasons that will become apparent. This is what I had written: "Morning Dew is gorgeous. It's like scooping up a pile of fresh soil and burying your face in it.' I don't know where that came from.)

Jeff Beck is one of the most tasteful and economical guitar players I've ever heard. There is no fat in his playing. Back in my formative years as a guitarist, my guitar buddies and I would occasionally refer to each other as "having more fluid than Jeff Beck" when the situation called for a compliment. We took the line from a Frank Zappa tune, though I'm at a loss right now as to which one it is. It's on the Live in New York record, if you're interested. You're not though, I can tell. Too bad, it's a good Zappa album. So, what's the moral of this paragraph? I don't know, but I'll sum it up: Jeff Beck is tasteful and Frank Zappa name-drops him in a sexual context that my friends and I ignored in favor of a guitar-related one that we used to compliment each other on our good guitar playing.

I was going to write about something completely different tonight, but the thrill of listening to Blow By Blow set me off in another direction. It's probably better this way because Spira and I had a fight over the phone about our parking situation and I didn't feel too good about it during and after. I feel good now, though: enough time has passed and the whole affair seems a bit silly to me . I hope it does to her, too. I approached her earlier this evening and asked her if she had a minute or two to talk, but she told me she couldn't because she was in the middle of watching a movie. She was pleasant enough, but I think she wants me to stew in my juices for a while.

So, no retelling of what happened. I apologize. When the situation gets resolved, or doesn't get resolved, I'll report back with details. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish listening to what Mr. Beck has to say.