There Will Never Be Another You

This has been a month of many things. Astrologers say it is a time of introspection and self-care. Of resting and finding the stillness amidst the inherent chaos of life, as we wait for the dust to settle. Like the morning glories that close themselves up at night - or the bears and squirrels that hibernate in the winter -  sometimes we need to withdraw from the world to build and conserve our energy, awaiting whatever adventures are in store just up ahead.

After a period such as this, the other night I finally made my way to the Whiskey Jar to try another pairing I've been anticipating - Laphroaig 10 and Octomore. I remembered being highly impressed by both of these lads, and it had been a while since I'd met them. To my happy delight, there was a jazz group performing at the pub, and I found a seat at the end of the bar right up near the music.

The group was called LG & Friends and apparently has rotating members. I got the impression that there are two constants when they perform: Lesly, the bass player and Nadine, the singer. Joining them that evening were Roger on guitar and Jim on the drums. I couldn't find a video of themselves performing, but here is a classic recording of one of the songs Nadine sang that evening, There Will Never Be Another You. Take a listen and enjoy a dram of one of your irreplaceable favorites:

Brett, a bartender I hadn't met yet, took my order and kindly allowed me to take his pic. Octomore and Laphroaig are such different lads in character and personality that I had no doubt I'd be able to tell them apart from each other, but I still asked Brett not to let me know which glass was which until the end.

The lad on the left had a sweet nose, with a peatiness and an overlay of smoke. In strong contrast, the one on the right's nose was a bit exotic - musky and astringent. I already had a strong suspicion that this was Octomore.

To taste, the Scotch on the left had a smooth character with soft edges. The right was clearly stronger and velvety, with notes of dark chocolate. When I originally met Octomore many months ago, his strength stood out beyond all of his other traits. On this recent evening, when the slightest sip had so much intensity, especially in comparison to the other, it left no doubt at all that it was Octomore on the right side of the pair. 

I continued the conversation with my two partners for the evening, and alternated my focus between them and the wonderful music being made behind me. Nadine's voice was rich and beautiful, and it was perfect for the style of music. I've always considered jazz to be one of the highest displays of skill for musicians, and I've always much preferred to listen to it live vs. on a recording. So much of the experience of the genre is found in the energy that the musicians convey, and in seeing how their personality comes out in improvised solos or embellishments to the songs.

I love the idea of groups like LG & friends - ones that regularly rotate in new folks to play with. I think people who make art and creativity a central part of their lives seem to thrive off new experiences. Collaborations between artists who don't usually play together can lead to some of the most amazing results. Shifting the status quo pushes us to reset our thinking, bringing us to that edge of comfort where chaos meets form - and lightning can strike. I suppose that is part of the reason why I keep seeking out new Scotches to meet. The allure of what wonderful things are yet to be discovered.

When I added a bit of water to the drams, I used more for the Octomore in an attempt to bring them to more of an even playing field in terms of strength. I relaxed a little too much into the first sip of Octomore after that...caught off guard, perhaps drifting on the daydreams of jazzy melodies, suddenly my throat was burning.

I forgot that water just brought out the spiciness of this particular lad. He was firey and needed some time to cool off. Laphroaig continued to be his easy-going self - light, gentle, and grounded. A taste of earthy bitterness became apparent, but I was surprised because he wasn't as great as I remembered from our first meeting.


I struck up a chat with a fellow patron there that night, who also was a fan of Scotch. We shared observations on our favorites, and I told him of my constant returning to Talisker Storm. As I described what my beloved was like to me, it occurred to me that I will probably never feel about another Scotch, the way I do about Talisker. My scotch-drinking friend offered the phrase "the standard you judge all others against." And I agreed.

As the evening continued, and the night was almost over, I started tasting more of the different flavors and complexities that I remembered from these two lads. Perhaps they too were feeling the shifts of the season - needing a little more time to come back to themselves than usual. I did enjoy them both, but neither really felt comparable to Talisker Storm.

Perhaps my journey was completed the moment it began. Perhaps my perfect Scotch was found in the beginning, and has been with me all along. Yet I realize the importance of striving for new experiences, and never ceasing to accept the call for adventures. With this in mind, I realize the journey may be ever-renewing.

To quote the lyrics of the song:

There will be many other nights like this,
And I'll be standing here with someone new,
There will be other songs to sing, another fall, another spring,
But there will never be another you.

'Tis true, but even so - the journey, or at least *a* journey, - continues...