Like a phoenix...?

In the same vein as: Lock your doors … hide your children … hoard cash, beer and canned goods...

Sometimes you have an itch that never goes away. (No this is not about a secret STD issue... Well maybe it is.) Sometimes this type of itch unwillfully, or even willfully, gets to the point of being ignored. Sometimes you do or don't know the when, where, or why of how you recieved such an itch.

Sometimes it doesn't matter.

What does matter is that 3 of my close friends and I have the same itch, (Minds out of the gutter please...) and Dave reminded us last fall that it could be scratched.

Many of our friends and family know this itch by various names. The Epitomy of Rock. The Rock Gods. The Supermodel of Rock Bands. The Band that Never Really Goes Away.

In other words: Satin Jones.

What do these little utterings and mumblings, stirrings and rumblings mean? We're really not sure yet except we all have agreed to sit down with some beer and some guitars and see where it all heads.

It's a completely new landscape in which to work now. Spouses, houses, kids, jobs, school, over-thirty pot-bellys and receding hair lines, etc. It may just be a group of friends getting back together to play music they love in the shadows of a dirty basement or a drafty garage. Or it could be a resurrected rock band playing old songs, writing new ones and playing a gig or two here and there.

No assumptions. No allusions or illusions. No expectations.

Whatever happens, it'll be interesting.

To refresh your memories there's a couple of old SJ songs posted here.