When the sunlight sparkled on Jorma Kaukonen’s gold tooth at the end of Hot Tuna’s matinee, it was as if the music gods were smiling on Fur Peace Ranch. 

It was just after 7 p.m., April 22 as guitarist Kaukonen and bassist Jack Casady basked in applause after performing “Water Song” to conclude their two-hour, 20-minute, two-set matinee on Kaukonen’s home turf of Pomeroy, Ohio. 

“The land of all weather,” Casady called it after a frosty morning gave way to a balmy afternoon and sunshine overtook rain showers. 

Seated, acoustic, wearing sports jackets and billed as the Hot Tuna Duo, Kaukonen and Casady were informal but precise. The former called 21 songs from a master list of the band’s repertoire – “Death Don’t Have No Mercy,” “Barbeque King,” “San Francisco Bay Blues,” “Trouble in Mind,” “Good Shepherd,” “Let Us Get Together Right Down Here” and “I Know You Rider” among others – and the latter nodded and fell in line. 

To the 200 people – who traveled from Chicago, Pennsylvania and Long Island for the gig – facing the stage, Hot Tuna make music. But to men facing the audience, it’s a continuing conversation that’s been running 60 years now. 

The pair spoke their own wordless language as Kaukonen growled and murmured the stories and music flowed from the Fur Peace speakers like a sparkling stream. It washed over the attentive audience in a secular baptism that was welcomed with spontaneous bursts of appreciative applause from previously dead-silent music lovers. 

The genuine affection between the two was evident not only in the shared smiles, eye contact and between-song inside jokes they shared, but in the way Cassidy’s rhythm instrument turned lead and Kaukonen’s leads switched to rhythm as the pair discussed their six-decade partnership with chords, riffs, harmonics, fingerpicking, plucking and well-chosen empty spaces. 

“It’s hard to turn the beast loose with the sun shining like this,” a self-depreciating Kaukonen said as the rays shone through the window. 

“It’s like cutting the lawn,” Casady retorted. 

Both of these statements were, of course, false. The beast was loose and the grass was long. 

With 161 years between them, Kaukonen, 82, and Casady, 79, retain the suppleness of younger players, something highlighted by the acoustic setting as Kaukonen bent his stings and coaxed long notes from the guitar and Casady flitted around the low end, occasionally scratching his strings and thumping the bass’ body for percussive effects. 

When everything aligned, as it often did, Casady’s eyes popped open and a huge grin crossed his face, while lines deepened around Kaukonen’s closed lids and his white beard and mustache shifted slightly over a wide smile. 

Concertgoers no doubt were smiling, too.