It was so unexpected. Last Sunday morning, that is. Let’s go to a music jam session, he said. He was extending an invitation he’d received from a new friend (i.e. someone who accidentally knocked over his coffee at the local cafe the Thursday morning before) to an unknown neighborhood studio to listen to an unknown genre of music. We said yes, of course. We being me and another friend from our very social apartment building on the north side of Baltimore city.

It wasn’t much from the outside. A weather beaten, quasi-forgotten, dusty blue warehouse on the edge of the neighborhood by the freeway. I’d walked and driven by the building numerous times without giving it a second thought. After a false start on entering through the back door, we found our way to an open side door. Upon stepping into the cavernous space I knew we were somewhere wondrous. Somewhere people go make their dreams come true. The space was loosely configured into project areas ranging from heavy equipment over there, to fabric remnants piles beyond, to a mountain of antique furniture way off to the right. We followed the music to a makeshift recording studio fashioned from two standalone rooms in the middle of the huge open space. The rooms were connected by a doorway and huge glass window – just like you see in films and documentaries.

The music was sort of electronic jam. Clearly they weren’t playing anything specific, and clearly they were doing it super well! There was an electric guitar, a bass, a keyboard, drums and “the coffee guy” on percussion and bongos. There was lots of electronic equipment – the musicians seemed like they had played together forever, but they mentioned the bass player was with them for the first time. The office side of the two rooms had such a good vibe. Eclectically furnished, with a mod quilted couch and matching/not matching chairs. Lots of wood – from a raw edged plank desk to a butcher block kitchenette. The coffee guy, David, immediately jumped up from playing and came over to welcome us and offered a bit of background on his musical history. Curiously, the guy on keyboards also knew the friend who invited us – they go way back as neighborhood acquaintances. This guy, John, is unforgettable. Tall and lean yet muscular, with stand up hair, and a vibrating energy – he literally and figuratively leapt about pouring coffee, sharing the latest on one creative enterprise to the next. The room was filled with huge abstract art works, some inclusive of bits of poetry. Before we knew it, John pulled out two portfolios – one large and one small – again, filled with page after page of painting. Some no more than a swishy snake of a paint brush. Others, more elaborate still and filled with color and more poetry. John had started painting during the pandemic and had a lot to say. From the music to the painting to the leaping about, his creativity was like a fountain spouting from the top of his head. He left me with a sense of freedom. Someone not without conflicts but also clarity on who he is and what he wants. About his latest potential venture he declared, “If I can do what I want, the way I want to do it, then I’m in.”

And on and on the music played…