Darin and his friends were also at the table, drinking Oregon ales and stouts. The conversation was over their day of white-water boating on the Upper Clackamas, which I found suitably unusual. Hans persuaded the crowd into a trek to his cabin to play guitar. Light candles, crack open the last of '1999's brew', and Hans and Darin began wiring up speakers and cables and a soundboard system. My grandmother had once said that the greatest fun in the world was to play instruments with your friends, and so again, it all made sense.

Darin preferred Bob Dylan and Wilco-style songs, Hans preferred Calypso, Spanish jams, slide-blues and funk. I, the guitar-world's nightmare, preferred to be the galactic space warrior. "He's definitely got his own style," Hans apologized for me, and we proceeded into "Little Sadie" and "Jam in E" and "Genghis Khan", "What a Wonderful World" and "Dark Star." With some sense of restraint, I took to the background with a little 'plink, plink, plink' between their 'wah, bum-bee-dum-bah!' and somehow, it all came together; the two of them exchanging vocals, "...And I began to think what a deed I'd done, Grabbed my hat and away I run, Made a good run, but a little too slow They overtook me in Jericho."

Home-brewed is common, but good home-brewed music is not. I told my brother in the morning that "last night is what good improvisation is all about." Here we were, under the Douglas firs, fresh beer tapped, muscles aching from the day. Improvization is yielded from inspiration. Still today, acoustic instruments have not been overrun by electronica for exactly that reason; the variation of human emotion and style to come up with a line of notes that is just right for that time and place.