When is a garage not a garage? For a lot of us, that’s all the time. Our lives have led us to collect clutter. Sure, some call them memories but really, memories are in the mind. Our clutter may evoke those memories but it’s not a requirement. So we pack things away until the attic, basement or shed is full, then we displace our cars to fill up the garage. Or, as in our case and it seems a growing trend, the garage becomes a gathering spot; a jam space for musician and artists. We did that to ours,
affectionately along at The Tavern and have hosted over 20 shows there in the last six years.
For Lisa and Joe (last name not required), it started the same way. They would sit out in the garage on their acreage, a few friends, a few guitars, maybe a few beverages and a fire pit. Nothing evokes those memories we talked about like a fire pit. Ah, the good times we’ve had. Once drums got added, the jam moved a little more out to the drive and the drums took over the garage, Joe's garage, or Joe’s Garage
as it is now called. The jams only lasted a couple of years before the big changes came.
I am going to fast forward a bit here. I know Lisa and Joe, casually, through music. I had heard and seen posts about Joe’s Garage, now in its eleventh year, but I had never been. On this night, I was out with local artist, Steve Newsome at another event and it was wrapping up. This was an event that Steve had been trying to get to for years, so we had chosen to go there and once again, we missed Joe’s. Things aligned though and with event one slowing down, we headed over to Joe’s Garage. Steve had been
before, so he knew where to go.
I was not prepared for what I saw. I have been to many garage style jams or house concerts but…. As we found a place to park, there were numerous people walking around in various directions. I didn’t hear any music but it had to be there since was only about 10pm. Steve led me to a trail, lit by lights down one side. It weaved for what seemed like a hundred yards or so. I was starting to hear the music when Steve asked if I wanted a bit to eat. We rounded the last corner in the trail, to a full fledged hit dog/smoke stand. Dogzilla was in da house!! Yep, right there in the middle of nowhere, a hot dog stand. I could hear the music, but, wait, as I stepped around Steve, the sight (and the site) was amazing.
MECHANICS ARE A DIFFERENT BREED AT JOE’S GARAGE
- JAZZ MATTHEWS -