Jimmy Herring is butter on your crusty french loaf. In Paris. During summer. While drinking Burgundy.
While I’ve never been to Paris, it’s like this in my mind – a hedonists flavor indulgence until you’re panting. That’s how Jimmy’s blistering guitar work makes me feel. Sometimes I just need to take a zen walk in the forest to understand what he just played.
Given that I was reared on Allman Brothers and Eric Clapton, it’s no wonder I like his guitar work so much. His foundation is blues. But how he orchestrates a conversation in blues, jazz, country and rock within the same sentence tempts my soul.
I’ve never been a “shredder” guitarist. I simply could never play that fast. I always preferred slightly down tempo music over which to solo and create. But when you hear what’s possible when nearly infinite flow marries aggressively attacked guitar, up tempo, you get it. You really get it.
I know it’s not for everyone. Newborns and mothers may opt for some James Taylor – and that is great! But sometimes you need to let your testosterone growl, as Jimmy says, let it out in a guttural way.
So I’m headed to meet him at an exclusive, private master class/guitar riot camp. He’s going to show us around vintage instruments in a studio the equivalent of an Aston Martin. He’ll teach us the ways of guitar mastery. He’ll even let us jam with him and his band! All of this is capped by a live performance in said studio, where even the kitchen cupboards sound good when you knock on them.
I’m packing up and headed to North Carolina on Thursday, giddy for the Friday/Saturday event. 24 hours of inspiration from a guitar legend. It almost doesn’t seem real!
More soon as I cram before one of the coolest weekends I may ever have.