Kenny
Wayne Shepherd
In this piece I
attempt to explain how the music of an incredible guitar player has impacted my
life, and in some ways pushed me on my way to Alaska.
++++++++
I first saw Kenny play in September, 2000. I had no idea who he was, but
someone said I needed to go. I was living in Idaho, which does not exactly have
a great music scene...
The music hit me hard. I could feel the muscles in my spine rippling in
frequency with the guitar. It was a completely physical reaction, like my body
was in tune with the music. I had never experienced anything like it. (This
still happens to me; live or just on cd, there is a certain tone in the guitar
that makes my spine twitch.)
The local newspaper ran a contest where readers could write a review of an
event, and the winner would get tickets to the movies or a comedy show.
As we walked out after the show, I turned to my friends and said, 'I'm going to
write a review of this, and I am going to KILL it. So what do you want - movies
or comedy?'
Here is what I wrote:
In the midst of his surging, frenetic guitar work, it is hard to tell if Kenny
Wayne Shepherd is even aware of the rest of the room. With a hip-shot slouch,
gazing at the far wall from under lowered lids, his face reflects total
involvement with his art. It contorts into tongue-bending grimaces and smoothes
out to the slack-jawed stare of a man experiencing release.
Then he pauses, his
eyes snap to focus, and he shoots us a 'look Ma' grin, as if tickled by what he
has just done.
The entire band is laughing and goofing around, without ever
letting up on the incredible music. The room slowly empties of oxygen, and my
calves begin to cramp from keeping up with the furious beat.
I wonder what it is
like to be so good at something that few people in the world can match you. I
wonder how it is that only the hundred people here are even aware that
talent this huge came to town.
(We went to the comedy club)
For the next few weeks I heard his music constantly. Songs played so loud in my
head that I was having trouble keeping focus; it was interfering with my work,
it was keeping me up at night. It was actually a bit nerve wracking for awhile -
it just wouldn't stop.
I pictured Kenny and Noah out on the road, doing something they were passionate
about. I was so envious. I had a good job, a house, and all that stuff, but
suddenly it seemed a little too secure. I fantasized following the band, like a
Dead Head. How long before my money would run out? That didn't seem practical,
so I thought maybe I could join the tour as a roady (now that's practical). I
never did come up with a plan to go on tour, but the idea of breaking out
somehow stayed at the back of my mind.
In 2003 I was in Alaska helping Ray Redington before the start of the Iditarod
and it hit me. I could scrap all the house, job, and security, and come to
Alaska to run dogs, live out in the cold, and work like a slave for peanuts. Now
there was an idea that made sense....
