Stanley Jordan had just finished playing his cover of Stairway to Heaven, it was the end of a solo show at a very small, intimate jazz club. We were all on our feet clapping and clapping and as the clapping quieted down, one lady just let it out, “Holy Shit!”
“I heard that,” he said. And he explained how he lived in Arizona near the Grand Canyon. And you hear “Holy Shit” all day every day and in every language in the world. And that’s a good thing.