After the museum, we headed for Ground Zero. Ground Zero is a Blues Club that is owned by Morgan Freeman and two other men. It is the hub of the Blues featuring both local and national and even international talent. From the outside, it looks much like a derelict, old building. And it is. The building stood 30 years or so vacant. As Ground Zero began life, the building was left mainly as it stood. The outside is covered in all sorts of car tags, stickers and other things, a hodgepodge reflection of life. Once inside, it was sensory overload! Every square inch of the building is covered in graffiti, even the tables and chairs! Christmas lights hung from the ceiling along with flags and even a couple of pairs of old shoes. There was a long bar on one side, a small kitchen on the other and at the far end a stage for performers. Holy cow, what a place. On the second floor of the building are several rooms that a person can rent for a night or two. My niece and her husband stayed in one of them a few years back and reported that well into the night, the music seeped into their room from below serenading them into slumber. Wow, what a night that must have been.
We settled in at a table with another couple and ordered beer and a nosh. Of course, Jim had to have their wings that turned out to be spicy and good. I had their version of nachos, smoked, pulled pork that is made on the premises served with chips, cheese, bbq sauce and jalapeños on top, interesting and quite good. We asked questions about the evening music offering and when we would need to arrive to ensure a good table. Stomachs satisfied, we headed back to the RV to feed the girls and freshen up a bit.
We returned around 7:30 and took seats at a table in the center and close to the stage, but not too close. The tables seat ten and it is a share and share alike affair. During the course of the evening a number of folks joined us and then drifted away. The band is called Stone Gas Blues Band. If you want to hear them play, check them out on YouTube. The leader of the band played bass guitar. Bless him, he has what looked like curvature of the spine. He walked with his posture curved toward the floor and struggled just to take steps. When he played, he sat on a stool most of the time mostly looking downward but it did not matter a bit, he could “deal that thang son”. There was a drummer and a lead guitarist and a harp (harmonica) player; each of them played and sang. Funny how so many of these bands are mostly black with a token white — I do not mean that in anyway racist. The harp player was a tall, lanky white guy with long hair pulled into a pony tail and sectioned with bands. Finally the band began to play filling the room with the sounds of Mississippi Blues, ah what a joy. Jim has trouble hearing music and understanding the words of the songs. I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye and could tell he was enjoying the music, thank goodness. Lee Tibbetts is our idea of what a harp player should sound like — full of emotion and talent galore; he can make a harp “talk”. Billy is definitely talented and could make his harp “talk” but it lacked emotion somehow. When the first set was done, we could not have enjoyed it more.
We headed back to the RV knowing that it was an evening we are not likely to forget anytime soon. We sat beneath a huge picture of Morgan Freeman that hung from the ceiling and soaked up music that resonates in your bones.
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