last of the blacksmiths

Why the Last of the Blacksmiths should be my house band
Sometimes I daydream about having the Last of the Blacksmiths as my house band. No really, like in my house. For reals. They could set up in the living room while I made coffee and play tunes for me all day long.
Jake Bunch could line his bass directly into the walls for all I care, moving the whole flat with that heavy tone, like a Sacramento River version of Robbie Shakespeare. Afterwards we’d chat about healthy fish populations off the California Coast and that killer left he caught today (apparently they’re all lefts around here).
Nathan Wanta could strum his mandolin in the morning when the first light came in through the kitchen. I’d have some of his Wurlitzer for breakfast any day, and we could mute the television when the Giants game came on, setting sights of banjo hitters and rag arms to the pleasant plucking of his parlor guitar instead.
Bert Garibay could set my entire life to the sweetest rhythm. I know that stompin’ bass drum would be heavy on the downstairs neighbors, but he’s just as proficient with less intrusive percussion, and I’m quite certain he could out-steady a rattlesnake’s shake. Plus, he knows the finer points of indelible ink and would appreciate the crisis of a burnt capstan motor. We could link up our 388’s for 15 tracks of breaking down.
If it started to rain, I’d really be down for Nigel Pavao to play me some slide guitar and blues on that hollow body of his. We could project his films on the hallway wall while his daughter Raven kept everybody in line. But the best days would be when there was no rain or fog at all. There’s a great spot for an upright piano near the fireplace, and we’d watch the sun go down over the Presidio as Nigel played those keys until the stars came out.
I know it’s selfish of me to want to move these four pieces of Sacramento and Manteca and El Paso into my house, just for my own enjoyment, but I got hardwood floors! There’s no other band I could think of whose warm, rich tones could do the structure any better service. Think about them harmonies when the boys got to singin’. They’d resonate for days! And don’t worry, you (yes, you) could stop by and listen anytime. I’d make you a key and everything. ‘Cause I know you’d be over a lot. - Ryan Henry, El Capitan