Buddhahood shows are consistently such off-the-hook fun, you just kinda take it for granted. The horn- and drum-driven polyrhythmic glee winds higher and tighter as the dance floor takes on a sort of joyous frustration; the people aren't just dancing out there, they're trying to fly. Guitarist/singer Tony Cavagnaro always waved the baton of this world beat parade; a reggae ringleader, the eye of the happy hippy hurricane.

Thursday night at the Dinosaur was no different. The brass blasted, the rhythm section laid down the funk trench, and the crowd danced like bumper cars at a square dance. It wasn't going to be particularly magical, it was just another fantastic Buddhahood boogaloo.

Except now it is magical: Thursday was Cavagnaro's last show. He was killed in a one-car accident on his way to a gig Friday night. He was 41.

The band's joy, drive, and vision were all borne of this big, bearded, jovial cat's passion. He was an incredible guitar player who could have bragged if he wanted, but he was as humble as he was talented. He was first and foremost a rock guitar player, hitting the scene for years with The Urban Squirrels, The Mysterious Blues Band, Rub The Buddha, and of course, The Buddhahood.

You could call Cavagnaro a full-blown hippie in the classic sense. And yet you put those drums beneath his humor and chops and nobody - nobody - was gonna be sitting still. And with little or no border between band and crowd, everyone in the place was in The Buddhahood.

It was like that last Thursday night. Dr. Bob and I strolled into the joint and got sucked into the zydeco riptide. Bob picked up a shaker and I brandished a mallet and took to beating an African drum loudly. If I'd have smiled any wider my skull would have fallen out of my mouth. I got a wink and a nod of approval from Cavagnaro that I can still see when I close my eyes. How ironic that my first time playing with these gifted souls would be his last. I will cherish that moment forever. So long, big daddy.