Ah, Columbia, SC. While stationed at Fort Jackson in 1968, I used to sneak out to a little coffee house run by the towns only hippies. A bluesman named Drink Small would play solo, ripping up a cheap electric guitar played through a tiny little amp. Plenty of slide, too. Without a doubt, those evenings were the highlight of my year spent there.

DW

BTW, about two years ago, I ran across a Drink Small CD. Most of his songs were about how he had never made it in the music business, but had busted his ass doing so.