Buster B Jones
I’ve been fortunate to know a lot of great musicians. Buster B Jones—the great finger-style guitarist—holds a prominent place among them. My life was significantly enhanced by knowing Buster and through the time he shared with me. There is a lot about Buster that will always stick with me, but here are a couple memories.
The Musician
I suppose it’s possible that Buster’s self-deprecating descriptions of his talents… “I don’t know much about composition, I just make shit up”…might encourage some to underestimate his musicianship. Not me. I remain completely amazed by Buster’s musicianship.I’ve had the privilege of knowing a lot of fantastic musicians and without any doubt Buster is among the very best of them. What separates Buster from the rest is that most of them have spent some time in academic music study. Buster, on the other hand, simply “figured stuff out” which, to me, makes Buster the Musician even more impressive. He could really ‘hear’ everything.
The Gentleman
Buster was full of surprises and Buster the Gentleman was in many ways just as impressive as Buster the Musician. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he'd peel back another layer and show me something completely unpredictable. Years ago, Buster and I were meeting our friend Mike Haskins in Dallas to spend a few days working the Texas guitar show and from there we were to spend some time touring in Texas. We were booked into a downtown hotel in Dallas and the plan was to meet there. I arrived sometime after Buster and took my place in a fairly long line at the check in. It struck me that the entire line up was big, bearded guys and at first I thought “Biker Convention”—at least that’s what I thought until one of the ‘bikers’ in line in front of me announced in a lilting sing-song voice: “Why is this taking so long?” Wait—gay bikers?
I finished checking in and made my way to the bar to look for Buster. By the time I reached the bar it was clear that the hotel was packed, the guest list was exclusively male, everybody had a beard –including Buster and me- and everybody was gay. I can remember wondering whether Buster was going to have a tough time with this. I mean, after all, Buster often described himself as a redneck and here we were immersed in a community that even I, Mr-big-city-liberal-guy, found a little awkward at first.
We went out that evening, after experiencing only brief exposure to our fellow hotel guests, and got up early the next morning to go to the show. That evening on our way back, Buster asked if we could find him a guitar amp. “What do you need an amp for? You played for about six hours already today” I said. “The bartender says he’ll give me free beer if I play in the hotel tonight.” This was classic Buster, under-selling himself. Although let’s face it, the bartender, who probably thought he was in for 4-5 beers, was in for a shock. But Buster loved to play…so Mike found an amp. Mike, his wife Patty, Buster and I headed for the hotel bar. Just as was the case the night before the place was packed, with big, hairy gay guys…and us.
Buster plugs in the amp, tunes his guitar and without blinking launches into the theme from Deliverance! I thought, “Holy shit, we’re dead!” But it didn’t bother anybody. After a couple of tunes the rest of us left Buster there and went out to dinner. Buster stayed in the hotel bar playing and making friends until about 3:00AM.
I love this story because it’s such a clear indication of what a great guy Buster was – he loved everybody. He didn’t judge people. He was totally honest and that’s all he asked of anybody else. Honesty.
The Mechanic
Buster had a great mechanical mind. I’ll bet that everybody who ever went on a road trip with Buster has a story involving some kind of mechanical disaster that Buster solved with MacGyver-like ingenuity. Buster was a very smart guy in many things except perhaps recognizing that most of the rest of us couldn’t always keep pace.
The Epicure
A bunch of us were out to dinner in Nashville; the group consisted of some Godin staff, Thom Bresh, Buster and Peppino D’Agostino. The setting was a sushi restaurant, which was weird enough, with Nashville not exactly known as the sushi capital of the U.S. and Buster having the least-adventurous palette of anyone I’ve ever met. A sushi restaurant would not be on Buster’s top-ten list of places to hang out. This was especially true when I realized that nobody bothered to point out to Buster that the floor was cut out underneath the table and he could barely walk after spending most of the evening sitting cross-legged.
I found myself sitting between Buster and Peppino who hadn’t spent much time together and were trying to find some common ground. The common ground turned out to be nail care. Here were these two guys in this intense discussion about real vs. fake finger nails, the impact on sound of the different materials, crazy glue...for me it was like a Fellini film –you can’t make this stuff up. Anyway, at one point Peppino made some suggestion regarding fake nail installation and Buster –by way of explaining the short-comings of the structural integrity of Peppino’s proposal- turns to Peppino and says: “Have you ever changed the transmission in a Chevy truck?” Not surprisingly, Buster and Peppino became quite fond of each other, but I’ll always remember that dinner.
I was lucky to know this guy and I miss him.