Often times, when I lived in Nederland, Colorado; I would go out alone, and check out whatever music may be playing, and hang out with friends that were bound to be out. The night of this show, was a little gathering while I was back in the area in transition; house sitting and dog sitting for local friends. This is the last time I saw Jubal play. I am honored to find this in my notebook. I am glad that I was able to record my perceptions in the moment. It makes me feel good. I hope it does the same for you.
The night may be one of those, High Altitude type nights. The weather is cold, snow is on the ground, and those who choose Whistlers this Thursday, are primarily there for the entertainment and the suspended menu.
Tonight, I have some early bird jitters. I feel there may be conflict.
The Thursday night football game is on the big screens; Jubal is on guitar and vocals. The audience seems split. I figure, there must be room for compromise.
Jubal begins his set, almost as a warm up. He is playing his less played set list. He emanates a desire to own the room with his music.
Jubal, is an inexhaustible well of music, the type of performers most towns wish for. But, tonight, We, Have Him. Knowingly in this moment, he has his competition; be it the football or those few patrons who would prefer their Chicken Cordon Blue in silence, he denies them their wish with gritty growling and harmonic strums.
Tonight we are all somehow the embodiment of this well, that Jubal is. Some may be dry on the surface, but they are rich and deep, below. The well is not purely a wood base on the ground, or a metal pipe with a pump.
One could consider a tree, a living well; pulling water up from the depths through it’s roots up to the leaves above, into the branches. This is how Jubal and his music holds some capacity of the humanity around him. They rise to him to be with each other, seeking some sweet soul nourishment; finding their call is answered.
If one becomes too dry, they turn to dust and fly away.
When one is fertile and hydrated, one grows and shares their steady beauty to those around them.
Sometimes, we become dry; and we don’t know exactly why or how. Was it the weather, or failure in the roots? Does a tree, or a well, ever ask?
Sometimes, the well is muddy. You have to drop the bucket through scum to find the spring. You have to dig deeper for the clarity.
What really matters? Perhaps in this journalistic opinion; it is the beautiful clarity that serene submersion brings, seeking the purity. Jubal holds the perfect sound track for this; somehow every song begs the question, “What really matters?”
Is the game more important than the player? Is the player always the star of the show?
“Perspective.” A wise woman, once said.
The room is almost full, and it seems we are on some 24 hour precipice of a Full Lunar Eclipse that will be visible locally. I wonder if the lunacy of the moon tonight, is reflecting back humanities lunacy. What is the symbolism of it’s momentary shadowing?
I suppose we are all a little creative and crazy; especially when humbled by seeing the shadow of ourselves, in the midst of lunatic confusion,we still have just enough of a grasp on who we want to see within ourselves that we can find some reconciliation. We find at times, even lunacy can be overshadowed by a strong desire for realization.
I dedicate this writing to all of Jubal’s friends, family and musical admirers. I apologize, if it wasn’t more about him, or his specific music; however I honor the fact he was a strong participant in a community I was apart of and love. I was honored to spend time and conversation with him, and I feel this piece touches on a deeper part of our understanding each other in friendship. If you want to do something in Jubal’s honor; buy a kid an instrument and encourage them to express themselves through the tool of music and words. And always, listen closely to the truths expressed therein.