"Blast off time everybody!" the man with the guitar hollers. He's known as Tiger. A southpaw, he wears a slide on his right pinky. He plays a note and shakes the slide along the string. His smile broadens. No question, he loves what he's doing. And Tiger isn't the only one smiling-so is the bass man, the drummer and most everyone in the audience.
"And now ladies and gentlemen," Tiger announces, "Mississippi Millie!" A small woman takes the microphone. She starts singing, quietly, drawing you in. Her singing tells that timeless story of misery and joy. Her voice builds, filling the room, tearing into your heart, ripping down through your gut all the way to your soul to ignite that place that makes you feel alive.
"You pick that thing, Tiger!" Millie says. Tiger leaps from the stage onto the dance floor. He whips the guitar around to play it behind his head. Wait-he's dropped the guitar! No--he's got it on the floor and he's playing it somehow. The dancers circle round, the rhythm section eases up, dropping the volume down low. Is Tiger licking the guitar neck? No, he's playing slide, holding the slide in his mouth! Now he's playing with his foot!
The bass and drums lean into it a bit harder. More people crowd around, craning their necks to watch. The slide hits the ground and Tiger flips the guitar over. With the guitar face down, Tiger pushes the guitar over the slide, the pitch rising, the tension swelling. People are whistling and shouting. Tiger bounces the guitar on the slide, pushing the pitch ever higher, the bass and drums pumping and thumping harder and harder. Then the guitar is suddenly in Tiger's hands--he jumps to his feet, the band's at full-tilt boogie as Millie's voice swoops back in. Millie's singing and swaying and sweating, Tiger's jumping up and down. Some people jump with him. Everybody's grinning from the sheer pleasure of the spectacle and the music.
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Artist info obtained from public profile, artist website or social media
"Blast off time everybody!" the man with the guitar hollers. He's known as Tiger. A southpaw, he wears a slide on his right pinky. He plays a note and shakes the slide along the string. His smile broadens. No question, he loves what he's doing. And Tiger isn't the only one smiling-so is the bass man, the drummer and most everyone in the audience.
"And now ladies and gentlemen," Tiger announces, "Mississippi Millie!" A small woman takes the microphone. She starts singing, quietly, drawing you in. Her singing tells that timeless story of misery and joy. Her voice builds, filling the room, tearing into your heart, ripping down through your gut all the way to your soul to ignite that place that makes you feel alive.
"You pick that thing, Tiger!" Millie says. Tiger leaps from the stage onto the dance floor. He whips the guitar around to play it behind his head. Wait-he's dropped the guitar! No--he's got it on the floor and he's playing it somehow. The dancers circle round, the rhythm section eases up, dropping the volume down low. Is Tiger licking the guitar neck? No, he's playing slide, holding the slide in his mouth! Now he's playing with his foot!
The bass and drums lean into it a bit harder. More people crowd around, craning their necks to watch. The slide hits the ground and Tiger flips the guitar over. With the guitar face down, Tiger pushes the guitar over the slide, the pitch rising, the tension swelling. People are whistling and shouting. Tiger bounces the guitar on the slide, pushing the pitch ever higher, the bass and drums pumping and thumping harder and harder. Then the guitar is suddenly in Tiger's hands--he jumps to his feet, the band's at full-tilt boogie as Millie's voice swoops back in. Millie's singing and swaying and sweating, Tiger's jumping up and down. Some people jump with him. Everybody's grinning from the sheer pleasure of the spectacle and the music.
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Artist info obtained from public profile, artist website or social media
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