Walking into his home, Nick was busy entertaining guests and the other musicians were scattered about the house. The buzz was electric. I had not been around that type of musical energy in some time. It felt like being home.
His place was not at all what I thought it would be. Deceptively large on the inside. Great huge rooms. The ceiling height bookshelves were stuffed with an amazing array of literary whatnot’s. Hardwood puppets, and other oddities. The vintage furniture and musical instruments strategically placed. Stalin era posters and paraphernalia. Such a dichotomy of adornments and decoration.
Nick finally glances up and notices I am there. Elated, he greets me with a handshake and warm salutations. He immediately hands me this beautiful vintage Gibson acoustic. I would guess in the 50’s. I ask him what this is, and he exclaims “This is for YOU! I got it out for you to play tonight”. As I hold and admire the seasoned beauty, Barb asks me ” I hear you are a classically trained musician”. I reply yes as I walk across the parlor toward a chair, nodding toward Nick. He just smiles. Now he really has my attention. I give it a few light strums and it has such a warm amazing tone. I am compelled to sit and start playing right away. In the process I can’t help but smell the wood, pressing my face into the soundhole. It’s an odd habit of mine, but I can’t resist “breathing in” the music it holds. While warming up and getting familiar with the new girl, I remark on how sweet she is.
I start off with some finger picking and cords, amazed at the awesome feel and timbre. The strings pull me into blues licks. I can’t help myself at that point. Barb comes and sits next to me and asks me to play some Clapton for her. I exchange some pleasant talk with her, and her husband, while I marvel at Nicks sweet girl.
Everything in the house obviously had a story. Nick indulged me on a reproduction blues advertisement for a record label. Apparently when 78’s were being sold, they were common to see in furniture stores. This was were people went to purchase Victrola’s. The poster he showed me, was from a friend of his who had bought it from the owner for. $100. It had been in somebody’s attic this whole time. He in turn sold it to a collector for$20,000.00. This was the only known copy of this advertisement. He had an agreement with the collector who purchased it, to make 100 reproductions to do with as he saw fit. Nick, ended up with one. Great framing too. Even his Gibson had a great story. It had the word “Commie” scratched into the wood! Nick tells me he bought the guitar really cheap. Nobody wanted it because it had the name “Connie” scratched on it. He see’s this and buys it up for a song and a dance. Takes it home and modifies the graffiti to “Commie”. Only Nick…
I ask for the nickel tour and he takes me about the rest of the home. Introduces me to the other musicians and guests. He’s offers me dinner, and has made a huge pot of chili. One of his friends who is a brewer brought some fabulous ale in. There was one left!! Guess who snagged that?
After eating my full, I needed a refill on my beer. I come into the kitchen to find this college age girl getting ready to take a swig of my homebrew. I ask her why she was eyeballing my beer and she looked somewhat embarrasded. I decide to be nice and share with her with the caveat of “you’d better not have any cooties, damnit”. The look on her face was classic.
Magic time. There were 3 of us on guitar, 1 on drums, 1 on slide/dobro, and Nick playing a 12 string. One of the neighbors joined on a conga drum, and some of the young girls picked up tambourines. There were no less than 5 AKG mic’s in the room and what looked like a digital 8 track recording the nights events.
All in all, it was a really great time this evening. Good company and good music. We played and sang and had a wonderful time. We ran through some really great classic numbers. Beatles, Stones, and the likes.
Thank you Nick, for all your hospitality tonight. What a great evening.
I sit here and type, raising my whiskey glass to you sir!
Cheers.
I agree–great party. I left before the singalong, which I regret. Nick is a true original. The kind of scene one might expect in a more bohemian setting than d-town Plainfield. Always a good time and such gracious hosts. Maybe I’ll meet you next time.
Well I am happy you enjoyed my home brew. Just chilled down a batch of porter. Now all we need is another Nick -o – Nanny to drink it at. Hope you enjoyed my dobro and harp playing as much as my beer.You are right Nick has wonderful get togethers. It does feel very comfortable in his dinning room.
Thank you for the complements. Maybe you can jam more next time.
Glad to see you referenced the “hardwood puppets and other oddities.” I’ll say, though, myself being one of those “puppets,” I just want to say that the politically correct way to refer to someone like me is “ventriloquist prop” or “talking inanimate figure.” That’s ok though; at least you didn’t make like most people and call me a dummy, even though the characterization of me as “an oddity” is pushing it a bit buster!
Im a veteran of Nicks legendary parties. If you think this party was something you should have been on hand back in the good old days.
I recall a party this was sometimes in the 90s soon after Nick came back to his old home town from New York where he was living. I remember I walked into the party with him blasting the Soviet National Anthem on the record player (hell, even the label on the record, he showed me, was in Russian!), some gal was in the bathroom having what I sort of assumed were command hallucinations and a big guy wearing a beard and fez was running talking in tongues, or something, and, oh, the TV was on with the sound turned down running those cheesy Beatles cartoons from the 1960s.
The place was packed with people and only a few of them were standing, and since there werent any chairs only pillows that meant the rest was laying down! Just to get a beer was like walking on Coney Island beach on a crowded day.
But things really got weird when the instruments came out and pretty soon it was like a barn dance at your local Commie Party cell. I mean who ever heard of yelling square dance calls over a rip-roaring version of Old Joe Clark, call that were taken verbatim from Lenins State and Revolution with a doesy do and swing your gal or thrown in for good measure? Too much. In Nick’s world, the revolution will broadcast from the Grand Ole Opry.
Then a bunch of bikers showed up, scattering the hand-drummers plying their art in the front yard when they wheeled their bikes in. Vicodin and Jack Daniels anybody?
I woke up after that one the next morning out in the yard with my face in the flower bed. Whoopin good time!
And did you see the little girl dressed up like Alice in Wonderland singing the Jefferson Airplane’s White Rabbit?
That was Lily in her Halloween costume
Hey Phill was that party in Martinsville after we had played the gig at “the Hideaway” lounge? Sounds familiar.
Oh and Hank you are no “oddity”, I can’t say that for that guy you travel around the country with though.