Steve Freund at The Ivy Room, Albany, CA; 5/31/05

"This is one of those trips that just happen." "I wouldn’t have gone if you hadn’t." "I brought along Little Johnny Taylor." "I needed to get out." "I worked hard today." "I’m gonna be a wreck working tomorrow." "I need some blues." "Ya know, I shouldn’t have gone out tonight, but I want some guitar." "Wonder who’ll be there tonight."

So over Sonoma’s golden rolling hills in the fading dusk and down into central suburban Marin Co. to San Pablo Straight and the Richmond Bridge. Then the fast ride through the Richmond Bayside warehouses and oil depots to the Albany flats and The Ivy Room in all its pre-world-war Buster Keaton friendly dumpiness.

Little Johnny Taylor with the great unknown Arthur Wright wailing on guitar, was on the van’s CD player and turned up loud for the really good ones.

"I'm gonna find me, lord I've got to find me a part time love
I've got to find me; I've got to find me a part time love
The next time, the next time my baby leaves me

That's why, that's why I've got to find me, Lord I've go to find me a part time love
The next time, the next time, the next time my baby leave me,
Can't you see I got to have me a part time love."

"He testifies! Man, what a voice!" "Sure can hear the Church." "Voice like that’s a gift from God."



In the excitement of a hot turn over Little Johnny calls out, "There's one other thing I wanna tell you right here:" and the band drops down into a steady horn vamp—And Little Johnny testifies!

"People in the cemetery, them ain’t all alone
Some turn to dust, and some have bone
I'd rather be dead, six feet in my grave
Than to live lonely, each and every day
She came home this morning; I asked her where had she been?
She said don't ask me no questions Daddy, ‘cause I'll be leaving again."

Usually we stop at Happy Donuts after an Ivy Room show, but having had a fast trip and time to kill we got coffee. For some reason the donut shops of the Bay Area are mostly run by Cambodians, usually pretty interesting people. We saw this was true early and the odd customers who drift in off San Pablo Ave. were already there. Good coffee.

Arriving in the Ivy Room parking lot we found it empty. "Huhh, a real hot night, yessir." Having several minutes to kill we hung in the parking lot. The sodium vapor lights hinted at water vapor in the air with their glare and the view across San Pablo Ave. at the old brick storefronts was slightly surreal. Mo and I started laughing. "Our weirdest one yet, there’s no one here."



With the sound of the music we went in. It really was empty, with only a few regulars. On stage was Robi Bean on drums, Scott Brenton on guitar, Burton Wynn on his first gig out of the hospital on bass, and Steve Freund on guitar. Steve had his gold top Les Paul strapped on and was pushing out powerful licks. I was glad to see the gold top; he always really gets into heavy guitar with it.

Inside every musician lives the music hero wanting to get out. Guitar players are particularly bad, we all want to be ‘guit-tar hero’, the dream lives! You saxophone and piano players out there tut-tuting hush up, y’all got it just as bad. "As the crowd goes wild! Amaze your friends! Get girls!"

I didn’t take any notes; I was there for some strong guitar playing. I got it. Steve having few in the house and none of the musicians lined up to guest on stage redialed his amp and set it on ‘stun.’ Steve looked right at Mo and me, knowing us by sight, shrugged his strap more comfortably, and played for us and for the house. Hot song after song with great leads leapt out of his amp; every song was a solo. Classics like "Hideaway" were jumped on with gusto rather than the weak feeling of old chestnuts.

The bad orange light bulbs and dark shadows hide the varnished plywood décor of the Ivy Room, with one orange bulb hanging down on a cord over the musicians. This makes cool reflections off the musicians and the instruments.



Steve began to play harder and harder and turned up his amp at least twice resulting in a hunted look by the back line. Steve began to prance from leg to the other as he got into his solos. Songs from all over came at us with a ton of guitar. Great log solos they were too. With no guests to think about Steve became Guitar Hero (visualizing the cape became no problem at all) and his body language became animated as steady Scot Brenton watched him while playing rock steady rhythm on his big 335. Scot’s occasional solos were woody-toned and sonorous. Words don’t carry solos of increasing emotion and expression; Steve was released and in charge and he was going for it.

In the second set he switched to a Elitist Les Paul which had a harder, fiery sound good for lots of screaming licks and moving diads up and down the fingerboard. The solos became even more wild and Steve was really rocking back and forth as he became more animated. Strings were getting bent hard and the upper part of the fingerboard getting a workout.

Well into the second set Steve at the end of a hot song breathed deep, looked up and called up Pierre LeCorre of the Dave Matthews Blues Band for a couple of numbers. Poker-faced Pierre played Steve’s guitar while Steve sang. Pierre seemed to have fun on rhythm and with his solos and sounded good.

As Steve became even more animated in the last part of the set and his body language as he played became very energetic and almost abandoned. He was truly excited in the most natural way in total guitar release.

My body language was the opposite as the recent long days caught up with me and I began to fade. We were both out on our feet and it was time to go. In an off weekday night we had one of those shows blues hounds talk about, the unexpected and hot show in a semi-empty house. A show played for the sake of the blues and for the love of playing, for the guitar player inside.