Two Dads, One Album
So I'm at my buddy Jake's house, right? We're hiding out in his office on the top floor – the only quiet room in this madhouse.
The kids? Screaming.
The wives? Wondering where the heck we went.
We're just two dudes trying to avoid responsibility for five damn minutes.
We somehow got to talking about how, years ago, Jake had painted an album cover every day for one hundred days.
"This was before you had kids, right?" I asked.
He squinted down the hall; a crash of toys echoed up
"Obviously."
"Can I see them?"
He walked over to the closet, reached to the highest shelf, and pulled down a stack of watercolor paper five inches thick.
"Here ya go."
I began to leaf through the paintings...
Born in the USA
The Dark Side of the Moon
Blue Train
Each painting stirred musical memories, admiration for Jake’s skill, and love for the iconic designs.
The cacophony of kids below grew louder. I rifled through the stack faster, inching forward on the couch, bracing for Allison's "Where are you??" text.
But on the next page, I froze.
"Wait." I snapped my head up at Jake. "How do you know Largo?"
"It's one of my favorites. I met Brad Mehldau when he came to my school."
"How have we been friends for six years and not talked about this?"
"No idea."
We laughed, and I sank back into the couch.
My eyes narrowed in on the painting, and just like that, I was 19 years old, on a train ride home from music school. My forehead smudged against the window and "Dusty McNugget" playing through my headphones as I stared at the frozen ground and gray skies passing by.
"You can keep that painting if you want."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah, I should probably give them all away. They're just stashed up there gathering dust."
"Wow, thank you." I clutched the Largo painting closer to my chest. "We should probably head down before they send out a search party."
Jake laughed, "Yeah, you’re probably right."
As we headed downstairs, the Largo painting in my hands felt heavier than paper and paint. It was like holding a slice of a shared past with Jake that we never knew existed.
Later that night, the kids conked out in the backseat, I slid in my headphones and fired up Largo. The ride home was long enough to listen to the whole album — a luxury I hadn't indulged in for years.
Parking the car in our driveway, the last track faded out. I thought about Jake, and how an old album deepened our friendship in a way neither of us saw coming.
Musicians, myself included, talk a lot about chords and scales. But today, between a painting, an album, and a friend, I was reminded of what music is really all about: the memories and emotions it evokes.
Epilogue:
While writing this post, I discovered that a remastered edition of Largo was released just this year. Have a listen below to one of my favorite tracks on the album: “Dusty McNugget.”