A good crowd had gathered at the Rio Theatre in Santa Cruz on the 7th of March and were waiting to get into the room and find their seats. They were largely a crowd of advanced aged, old hippies who had known the glory days of the Airplane when that band was playing the Fillmore East and West, the Family Dog, the Carousel and other vaunted rooms of the day. There were probably several of them who had eaten Owsley acid and truly gained the “experience” of which Hendrix sang. Once in the door they waited, eagerly, for Jorma Kaukonen to take the stage and passed the time by swapping stories of Kantner at this show and Balin at that one, Grace Slick peeling back the doors on a date-specific version of “White Rabbit” or Jack Casady crushing some version of “I Know You Rider” with Hot Tuna at the old Sweetwater. These were seasoned hippies turned aging baby boomers with complaints of a bum leg or not being able to really see the stage. That all disappeared though when a silver-haired Jorma Kaukonen ambled up the stairs to his chair, instigating loud applause and cheers that harkened back to a more electric time.
But Jorma was alone this night, solo without the thumping bass playing of his partner Jack, and only armed with an acoustic guitar, a single amp, and his unmistakable voice. He told stories of his time in Santa Cruz in the early sixties, the house he had bought over at Sunset Beach (which he lamented selling for the sheer financial windfall it would have provided by today’s inflated coastal home prices). He mentioned running into Paul Kantner, who would soon be his bandmate in the Airplane, over at Steamer Lane because, “Paul was a surfer”. The stories, few in number, were golden and his words carried through the room with an unmistakable air of experience gained from a life well lived and carried on the wings of an unmistakable air of nostalgia. Everyone felt it, in fact it was so thick it almost dripped down the walls of the old Rio. But, once begun, the music made that nostalgia rained down on us.
Shortly after helping form The Jefferson Airplane (a name he suggested for the band by the way), Jorma started a spinoff group to fill his need to play the old Blues and Gospel tunes he cherished. They played the songs of old masters the likes of the Reverend Gary Davis, Sonny Boy Williamson and Jesse Fuller among others. It was these guys that inspired Jorma to finger pick guitar and that style made him unique in the San Francisco psychedelic scene. They also played Jorma songs from the Airplane the likes of “Good Shepherd” and “Embryonic Journey” as well as other songs he wrote. Hot Tuna was a riveting thing, sometimes they were acoustic, sometimes they were electric, but they were always stellar players and built an enviable reputation that continues to this day.
Solo this night, however, Jorma was left alone on a big stage to run through songs that made you think as you listened. “I am the Light of This World,” “Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning,” “Waiting for A Train,” and “Candyman” (among many others) were our Blues staples. You could hear his reverence for the pioneers of his music, you could hear their influence on his songs and Jorma worked through his own “Serpent of Dreams,” an instrumental “Living in The Moment,” “Sea Child,” and a burning “Trial by Fire”. We did not get the waited for “Good Shepherd” but that was okay, his “Embryonic Journey” encore filled the gap. His guitar was crystal clear, and his fingers picked strings and moved up and down the neck with the alacrity of his twenty-year-old self (maybe his thirty-year-old self – still no slouch!). His vocals were gravelly, and road worn, with literal groans and growls that wrapped one line of verse to the other. It was awesome and it was also naked.
There was a palpable sense of mortality here in the stripped back presentation of the music. Jorma is not going anywhere on us soon, he’s healthy and strong, but the intensity with which the audience listened was purposeful. They hung on every note and every word. There was little movement in the audience, just bent ears. Collectively, the crowd was wrapped in the sound and moment, only a few brave souls took to the dark side stage to dance as in their youth with wide arms and ecstatic shimmies.
The show that night was as much a look back to what was as it was a look forward to what still can be and we’re lucky to have Jorma out there, feeling the need to leave the comfort of his Fur Peace Ranch for a tour here and there to share his unique talent and perspective to those that want to pay attention. There are lessons in the man and his music and the youth in today’s music scene would do well to look in and listen to the textures of this time and space encompassed over a set of exceptionally and lovingly played songs.
Photos by Andrew Quist
