A night at Gip’s always started with booze and then someone would sing Amazing Grace and the House band would start jamming. After a set, they’d take a break and Mr. Gip would sit on the front of the stage and noodle slow blues. He was hard to understand in conversation, and his singing was just like that, more the shape of a sound than any words I ever learned. Afterward, a band like Todd Simpson and the Mojo Child would turn it up and Mr. Gip would dance with every woman in the place. Rest In Peace, Mr. Gip.