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Funkin AT THE CHICKEN SHACK – Tony Adamo - 1990

Jimmy Smith was laying down an incredible riff on a wall of kinetic sound that was oozing out of my car radio.  I was on my way back from a singing gig at an Indian Restaurant.  Saturday night is jazz night in the City by the Bay.  On my approach to the Bay Bridge, I could see the fog was cold and watery wet, as it lay low and crept along like solders on night patrol in Vietnam.

I steered my Chevy Nova like it was a priceless Lamborghini the musical transition of thought.  No traffic on the B Bridge…2:00AM on the steel span and all was right with me.  Jimmy smith with friends Kenny Burrell, Stanley Turrenting, and drummer, Donald “Duck” Bailey were my musical guides for the ride.

I dug deep as I had to slow down.  The fog was horror movie thick.  Now I had time to think to the 100th power.  Sho’ ‘ nuff and came up with Don Patterson, Richard Groove Holmes,Charles Earland, George Fame, Wild Bill Davis, Shirley Scott, Big John Patton, Baby Face Willette, Larry Young, Brother Jack McDuff, Jimmy Magriff.  That’s where it’s at baby.  The royal bloodline of B-3 players who brought us into R&B, Pop, Rock & Roll and Soul Jazz. Into the swingin’ feature goes Joey “D”. No boundries, no limits.
Bridge:
Back at the Chicken Shack people dancin’ to a kookin’ groove.
Breakin’ out into a funk sweat
Boogie sounds brewin’ from the B-3
Your twisted sister never danced like that
Reuben Wilson and his killer sounds was a stackin’ the beat shakin’ the Chicken Shack down to its feet
(Solo)
(Bridge)
What a beautiful and dynamic management of mind, body and intellect goes into coaxing Soul Jazz out of a fat Hammond B-3 organ.  Was it the foggy, misty, jazzy night? Or…was it that I actually got paid to sing Jazz?  No!  It was Jimmy Smith’s playin’ that was vibbin’ me along the steel rail. The joyous atmosphere that hung in dense textures of musical thought was punctuating my life like bayonets turning to thumb prints on the consciousness of my creative mind.  It was in thick reference to the wet fog rippling across the bridge, like fingers on a Hammond B3, Jimmy and me……free to be. 
From Tony Adamo's Miles of Blu Cd/ Hipspoken Word
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