I was invited to play…


a gig at a local prison with a small group of folks. Mostly praise music, perhaps a few other tunes. I accepted, not just to release my inner Johnny Cash but music for God is, as it has been said, a prayer prayed twice.

Yet my bass isn’t coming with me. Just can’t bring it. They’d have to open the body up to check for contraband and the strings, well I get that part. A bass string would be a formidable weapon in the wrong hands. What’s more it could be cut into small pieces and used as a needle for a prison tattoo. I have to admit I didn’t even think about that. Attach the wire to an electric shaver head, dip it in ink and let the back and forth motion pound it into the skin.

Kudos, I guess, for resourcefulness to the people behind bars and a certain sense of gratitude on my part for living a fairly sheltered life…

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