I'm standing in a sticky, windowless room surrounded by amplifiers. Sanne sits at his drum kit, sticks in hand. Pascal whips his shirt off, the heat oppressive, and straps on his bass. Aafke coddles her ukelele and sets up the keyboard (keeps her shirt on). I fiddle with my amp, nervous and a little too giggly.
We don't know each other from a hole in the ground. But here we are, about to jam.
Sanne counts us off and starts the tune. It's a cover of Sublime's 'What I got.' Cautious at first, we're like the Millenium Falcon when it first takes off: a clunky, lumbering beast, fighting to fly. Eight bars in, Sanne finds the pocket. Pascal funks the shit outta that bass, Aafke nails a harmony, and I shun my fear, close my eyes, and sing.
We are flying. Like the Falcon when they hit 'hyperspace'. The world is a blur and we are lost as the stars and planets race by, speeding recklessly to a place unknown. Somewhere. Anywhere. Gone for a precious few hours to a galaxy far, far away.
And yet, I remind you, we are 'strangers'.
How is this possible? We just met. Where did this fierce chemistry, this undeniable buzz, this addictive energy come from? How can complete strangers become instant lifelong friends while our own families, our own flesh and blood, remain strangers? How, I beg you?!
Ever the teacher, I need answers. I require strategies. Theories. Analysis. The shit needs to be explainable. Measurable. Definable.
But there are no answers.
And don't think it's only musicians who are afflicted. It's not. We have ALL, no matter our pursuits and passions, been struck hard by the seemingly unbearable arrow of instant chemistry, first love, dangerous infatuation. It is intoxicating. And bat shit crazy.
I am walking through a leafy park in an ancient city. I ask my dear friend and newest musical partner, "How can we have known each other for a few hours, but we can jam like that?"
"Don't try to analyze the magic Dave" she says, her eyes diamonds. "Just let it be."
OK, fine. No analysis. No answers. No peace of mind. Just madness and music. Love and longing. Fear and swagger. They didn't call it a Magical Mystery Tour for nothing.
"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it be." The Beatles