I was watching the Grammy’s last night and was amazed that they seemed to have actually become worthwhile again.
They even spent some time dealing with music this year.
I really think that Lynard Skinner should have had Neil Young join them for "Home Sweet Alabama"
It made me reflect on my love of music. It is the one constant that seems to run a thread in my life.
In the 5th grade, at John Knox Christian in Brockville Ontario, was the 1st time I actually got to pretend to be in a band. At recess, myself and 4 other guys, found an elevated set of steps and sang “I saw Her Standing There” to every passing girl in the school; who were foolish enough to wander within ear range.
I was a die-hard Beatle fan from the word go. And I still think the death of John Lennon was one of the great tragedies of the music world. The other great tragic event was the “Knack”.
By the 8th grade I was actually on stage, one time only, with a local band playing a very bad rhythm guitar. Luckily for me I was no worse then any one else, since I had mastered 2 more chords then most. The stand out member of the band was a guy named Kim Mitchell. He went onto perform in a well-known Canadian band named Max Webster and still has a very successful solo career.
http://www.kimmitchell.ca
One of his 1st gold records was “Patio Lanterns”, a song about the awkwardness of young love, or what passes for such. I like that song because I was at that party.
In the 10th grade I was in a band, grimly named, the Franklin Depression. The band had started out with 4 friends in the 9th grade, Myself, Steve Cherry, John Burgess and Gary Disano. We practiced and entered local band competitions. We were just kids having a great time and playing for the sheer joy of playing. We did Hendrix, The Doors and Bee Gee’s tunes and we did them badly. But the fun slowly went south when we decided to expand our repertoire.
Back in those days the key to being in a band was whether or not you owned any equipment. A Silvertone guitar and Amp from Sears was always a good way to assure you of membership in the next Rolling Stones. We made our own mike stands in Steve’s Dad’s shop. Our parents would have to drive us to our gigs. My parents being strong Christians did little to nothing to support this effort. To this day only one of my family members has ever heard me in any type of band.
One time after winning our 1st "battle of the bands' I proudly brought home my trophy. It was treble clef on a wood base. My Dad said it was nice, but hoped I wasn't taking this silly stuff to seriously. A few days later my older brother snapped the trophy in half, I'm not sure I have ever really forgiven him for that.
We brought in Tommy Walls. He owned a full-blown Hammond organ with a Leslie speaker!! His father also owned a music store and outfitted us with Vox amps and a Peavey sound system. We were well on our way.,
Oh except Tommy didn’t think Gary was a good drummer so he was asked to leave. The new drummer knew a better bass player..
Within 6 months the only thing left of Franklin Depression was the name. There was still a band but John, Gary, Steve and I were just no longer members. I sensed a pattern at 15 that has never failed to play out.
The last real band I was in was another set of 4 guys who got thrown together through a common friendship and love of music. I was 19 or 20 and just married. The band played in the basement and we named ourselves 40 fingers, four guys 10 fingers each.. well you do the math.
I think to this day, my best memory is of myself and my best friend Ken practicing for hours trying to get the bottom down. Ken played bass and I played drums. I never enjoyed playing more.
That band ended when my wife asked me to make a choice between music and marriage. In hindsight I may have made the wrong choice.
Regardless, music still fills the background of my life. It was there the night my daughter was born. I was sitting in the waiting room at Northwest Hospital in North Seattle watching George Harrison on the Dick Cavett show. Oddly enough also sitting with me were James Caan and Marsha Mason, who were there filming a scene for Cinderella Liberty. Caan was also a Harrison fan. The 3 of us were the 1st to see my newborn Daughter in the Nursery. Marsha Mason thought she looked really cute, as I recall.
At each point in my life there was a song that seemed to define it. Be it Springsteen or Foreigner, there was always that one song that worked as the binding thread. I recall one time a friend commenting that he was always wondering what romance had failed for me again, since Foreigner had just released a new song. Truer words were never spoken.
I guess the bottom line is, music is the key. Now if I can just find the door.
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