J TERM at Spring Arbor, Part II

Saturday ended up being packed with fun. Madelyn, Jen, Andy and I went sledding on Mt. Beebe, and since my back was still messed up from the last time I sledded over a jump on Mt. Beebe, I went down the hill and hit the jump on my mountain bike instead. Later that day my friend my friends Nick and Renee Nestorak also invited me to come sledding at their house in our hometown of Hillsdale.

"I would really love to," I responded to Renee on Facebook, "but I promised someone I would jam with him tonight."

That someone was named Joe, a fellow Spanish major who commuted and was in my "cell" group as a fellow incoming transfer student. We hadn't been in touch much, but earlier in the week he had invited me to jam and I had hesitantly agreed. I also invited our friend Brittany, also a transfer and cell group member, and co-sufferer with me for three hours of history each morning, to join us. We were going to meet at 7:00 in my room, which was the time when open hours started -- those elusive time frames on a Christian campus when girls can be in a guy's dorm room so long as the door is open and no one so much as thinks about sitting on a bed.

At 5:15 I met Andy Hinz for a round of ping pong, which didn't end until 5:45 when I rallied from 16-20 to win the tie-breaker 22-20. Since I didn't have a meal plan, Andy, Madelyn, and Jen wanted to sneak me into the Dining Commons. Since students are allowed to take their plates of food out of the DC to eat in the cozier Cougar Den, Trevor gave me a half-finished plate so that I could walk in looking as if I had already been in once. I felt very uncomfortable with it, since I don't mind sliding one by the system but I do feel badly about sliding one by any of the very nice ladies who's job it is to swipe cards and admit students. Long story short, it didn't work, and I returned to the Cougar Den. Andy and Madelyn were already in the DC, but Jen politely sat with me in the Cougar Den as I finished Trevor's almond chicken, then went in to get me some more. I wanted to find some wonderfully pleasant thing to start a great conversation about, but my attempts continued to flop because the only thing that was really on my mind was my uncertainty of direction in life. Finally I just brought that topic up. Jen listened thoughtfully and asked a few questions where appropriate, until the conversation meandered into topics that she wanted to talk about as well. By the time we were done talking, I realized that it was five after seven and I raced back to U-hall, hoping that the clocks were five minutes fast and I would be able to meet Joe on time for our 7:00 jam session.

Joe was in the lobby studying, and when I came in we both texted Brittany and headed to my room. He was rather awed by Tyler's Marshall half-stack that was "just chillin'" in the corner, so I invited him to try it out as I plugged my Fender Strat into my 15 watt Peavey. Once Brittany walked in I was working out a lead part for a moderate pop-rock tune with Christian lyrics that were hard to hear over the amplifiers. So far I was pleasantly surprised. Just because someone has recorded music doesn't mean they are any good, but I assumed that this was an original and as such it was as good as most. I anticipated the next couple changes and brought the melody back to the root before jumping up and pulling up a chair for Brittany. Joe turned back the distortion and strummed out a pretty little progression, so I sat back down and did my best to add an expressive melodic line. We built the song from thoughtful to triumphant, then brought it back around for a unified resolution.

"Hey hey," I said, meeting Joe's grin. "That's my new favorite." Joe cranked the Marshall back up and the room was drenched with heavy distortion. I turned the dials on the little Peavey until each note I played seared with electricity.

"IS THIS TOO LOUD?!?" I yelled to Brittany.

"WHAT?!?"

"IS IT TOO LOUD?!?!?"

"YOU'RE FINE!!"

With the amp maxed out I could manipulate any given note until it melted into turbulent stream of scorching overtones, or run my fingers over the frets like an adrenaline-laden tourist sprinting across a bed of coals. I searched unfamiliar territory on the guitar neck, finding some surprises and meeting them with enthusiastic intuitions as Joe raced through an exciting barre chord progression in C major. For the grand finale I shredded out 64th notes as Joe grabbed a chord form at the bottom of the neck and brought it upward across every single fret, then pulled his pick across the guitar strings like a thousand nails hitting an amplified chalkboard.

"That's my new favorite," I said, quickly turning back the distortion and looking sheepishly at Brittany, who laughed heartily.

Joe and I continued to play for another hour. At the height of our creativity, I spontaneously emulated his rhythm guitar with a simpler double-time riff, and he took the opportunity to improvise a new, complimentary rhythm part with barre chords sliding and shifting but somehow always resolving.

"I LOVE THAT RIGHT NOW YOU'RE IMPROVISING OVER HIS IMPROVISATION," Brittany yelled. Joe once again slid a barre chord slowly up the entire neck and slashed his pick obnoxiously across the strings.

"IT'S THE ONLY WORTHWHILE WAY OF ENDING A SONG!!!" I yelled to Brittany, and Joe launched into another song filled with hammer-ons and pull-offs.

There are only so many strings on the guitar, but somehow Joe managed to grab extraneous notes on top of his barre chords that encouraged and directed my surprisingly successful forays into unknown scale structures.

"Ok, one more song," Joe finally said.

"Let's make it another pretty one," I said. My heightened musical intuition had been dwindling and I felt more like a tourist who had lost his adrenaline rush and continued to stumble painfully through the remainder of coals.

The last song came to a close quite literally on a good note, and Brittany insisted that we should play at an open mic night. I really wanted to -- not only because I like girls and girls like guitarists, but because this was exactly the kind of thing I wasn't doing to make my college experience worthwhile. Thank goodness Joe was persistent in getting ahold of me.

"Joe, I really enjoyed this, and I would love to get together again soon to do some more jamming."

"Thank you, good sir. I'll be in touch."