Friday, February 21, 2014

Regan Recommends -- Rabbit Quinn

I grew up with music. My father was Blazing Fingers Worth, after all, one of the top jazz pianists in New Orleans during the first part of the 20th century. I could never play, but I can sure recognize someone who can.

Last week, I got a treat. I stopped by the Red Rock Coffee for a latte and was amazed. "Who is that woman on stage?" I asked the guy behind the coffee bar.I pulled a ciggie out of my purse and snapped my lighter.

"Rabbit Quinn," he answered. "You can't smoke in here, by the way."
"Since when?"
"Ummmm....forever. As long as I can remember."
I looked at the guy...well boy, really. He had a fresh face and a blonde bang that fell across his forehead. Kind of cute, but much too young for me. "Oh right. I'm in California, aren't I?"
He looked at me like I was from Mars. "Of course you're in California."
"Hmmm. Hey, are those special brownies?"
"Special?  Oh, you mean pot brownies?  No. You have to go to a dispensary for those unless you drive on up to Washington. Are you planning to order something?"
"A double latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon."

The boy turned his attention to the espresso machine and I focused on the music. Her fingers stroked the keys with an intimacy I have rarely experienced with Hanover or anyone else for that matter. She understood every nuance of its tone. Her voice was soulful and resonated deep in my heart, then it soared, taking me with her to another realm...her realm. Her music was both haunting and true. I realized that like me, she had sensed the others -- the ones that walk this earth without the ability to touch another. She looked young, but so do I. I wondered how much she knew, how many of those shadowy places she frequented in her dreams. I felt a tap on my shoulder and realized the boy had put a steaming cup next to me. I put a five dollar bill on the counter and carried the cup to a nearby table. I knew where I was spending the next hour or so. And for awhile, immersed in the music of Rabbit Quinn, I didn't even care that I couldn't light up.

Rabbit Quinn's debut album Lost Children is available on iTunes and CDBaby.