This guest post is a story by my good friend Jeff.  Jeff is a retired banker and a life-long devotee of making music.  I’ve benefited from hearing Jeff cover songs that are deeply embedded within the memory of our generation, as well as some fine compositions of his own.  He gave permission to share this story.  As you read you will understand the meaning of my title, “Jeff takes us to church.”

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I started off with playing beautiful music at Wednesday’s music wellness & art session.  The fifteen or so attendees were hostile to me.

“This white guy ain’t gonna be able to play us any blues,” said the most rambunctious one in the crowd.

My skin hair stood on end.  “Blues,” I said.  “I’ll take you to church.”

I played them my version of “Saved”.  The one Elvis did in his ‘68 Comeback Special as a production number.  That I rearranged as a primitive blues song with plenty of slide guitar.  I was playing my 1955 made guitar that day.  It sounded really raw.

The residents started dancing.  They started doing a call and response to my singing.  It seemed like a Louisiana barrelhouse to me for a few minutes.

Then, they were hostile, again.

A resident walked up too close to my face.  “You can’t do Jimi Hendrix, though,” he said.

I said I can, too, and played “All Along the Watchtower”.

The gathering became putty in my hand.

That same resident left the small rec room we were in.  Minutes later he was back with a bag of cookies and a used sweat shirt from his one room apartment that he presented to me.  “I bring you gifts,” he said.  “For the music you have brought us.  Thank you.”

The small crowd cheered.

I went back to playing my beautiful music and the residents smiled and swayed.  Some even used the art supplies and painted or drew whatever was on their minds.  One resident painted a portrait of me playing my guitar.  At the end of the program he autographed and gave it to me.  I thanked him and shook his hand.  The connection with all in the room ran as strong and as deep.

Near the end of the program, I played  my version of Canned Heat’s “On the Road, Again.”  Explaining that the late Alan Wilson, Canned Heat’s lead singer on their song, was actually imitating the singing style of one of his musical hero’s, Skip James, on Canned Heat’s version of the song.

I told them I will do the same.  And, did.  The call and response singing was as natural as it could be.

Afterwards the art therapist told me that normally none of the residents in that particular building engage in anything.  Yet, they did that day.

The healing power of my music, or more accurately the music that flows through me, sometimes startles me.