Depending upon one’s situation, the meaning of the title can vary. As a measure of distance, two steps from the outhouse could be the critical concluding leg of one’s journey. Another meaning would be to announce a collection of two-step dance music emanating from the privy. It is the latter that best suits this submission.
Having taken up the Cajun accordion late in life, my intention of learning the instrument in the shortest possible time required long hours of intense practice. Perhaps only the bagpipes could be more unsettling for a housemate not as musically driven as myself. Accordingly, my wife quickly set down a rule that my practice must be confined to one of our bathrooms – the one farthest from her earshot. That rule has, so far, been rigidly enforced.
Thus, to comply with her edict, the practice of playing alone placed many restraints upon me, with regard to space, acoustics, and comfort. The years have passed rather quickly, though, and I am hopeful that as my skills improve that readmission to the more comfortable parts of the dwelling is not far away.
“Woodshedding” is the term given for those musicians playing to themselves, but I have no such appurtenance. Therefore, the outhouse is figuratively more descriptive of my circumstances, given a touch of poetic license and a reflective glimpse of the past.
You are invited to this recital with the understanding that I am not a one-man band. It never occurred to me that there were no Cajun musicians in my town when I started this odyssey, thus the songs are short, owing to the absence of guitar, fiddle, and vocal support requisite to an orchestrated presentation. Please feel free to peruse the playlist while I grope about between the cracks of light for that elusive catalog in the dark confines of my studio.