From beginnings to the Beatles - the music journey continues

Two things coalesced today that sent me down the highway of rock-n-roll musical reminiscing:   

1)  I came across an article written just 3 years ago which featured an interview with a recording owner/engineer my very first band cut demos with back in the 1990s.  And,

2)  I was reminded that 11 years ago today, that same band - which dissolved in 1999 - reconstituted itself with a new singer into the fold, created a new name, and had its debut gig on April 3rd, 2010.  At that point, it had been 11 years since our LAST gig.  Life's rich pageant, eh?

I have done a lot musically in my life, almost all of it post-college.  Aside from rock, I've sang in a variety of idioms:  concerts of sacred Gregorian Chant polyphonic music; opera productions, singing both in the chorus and also compremario parts (small or supporting lead roles), in Italian, French and English (still waiting on German though!); participated in some local community choruses, Early Music consorts, and in church choirs as a ringer, sometimes a soloist. 

All of it - from church music to rock to opera - I  have loved and continue to love making as often as possible.

But my first love was and will always be making and performing rock-n-roll.  To that end, and if you're still with me, I want to share a little of my history therein.

I couldn't afford an instrument during my undergraduate days of the early '90s, so a buddy lent me his young sister's, very-close-to-being-a-toy guitar.  It was small, semi-rusted steel strings, couldn't stay in tune very long.  But over two or three years, including breaking every one of its non-replaceable strings, I hammered out as much as I could on it.  Another college friend taught me the three opening chords to REO Speedwagon's "Heard it from a Friend".  It was the first chords I ever strummed.  I knew I'd uncovered some strange magic.

Forward to graduation.  I was fortunate to have a job lined up - ok, not a CAREER job, but a 40-hour per week, earning-a-paycheck job in a print factory - only days after walking across the commencement stage.  I vowed well prior to graduation that, once I had a job, I was going to buy a guitar and amplifier within three months.  

Only, it wasn't a six-string guitar I wanted.  I wanted to play on four strings.  Why?  Well, perhaps it's my inclination that I hear the bass line in any song first  or at least with the most acuity.  I've always been mystified with the low-end sound (years later I would find out that my singing voice is bass), and that is what I wanted to learn.  At the time of the early '90s, I was enamored with alternative rock; I wanted to emulate the sounds I heard from bassists in bands like the Cure, REM, Nirvana, U2, etc.  I had dreams back before I even could afford an instrument that I would be hauling my bass rig in my shitty little French Renault Alliance to my soon-to-be-discovered band's rehearsals.

Anyway, my little bass dream became a stepping-stone reality and fairy quickly:  a guy that I worked with in that crappy little factory brought in a right-handed, black as night Peavey bass guitar one day.  

"My wife HATES this thing.  She said she'll divorce me if I keep it.  I heard you want to buy a bass?  $100 and it's yours." 

IT'S MINE!  I. Me. Mine!

Only...one...problem:  I'm a southpaw.  

I didn't care.  I bought it straight away.  In short order afterward I did a little negotiating with the local pawn shop over a faded red, somewhat warped-neck left-handed bass guitar I saw in the window one morning, called a Mach I.  I think the upshot was he took my Peavey bass, I also paid him $150, but the deal included a small Peavey amplifier.  I now had a lefty bass AND and amplifier.  I still get giddy thinking about that moment.  And now...it was time to learn how to play the damn thing.

At the time I purchased this made-in-who-knows-where bass guitar, I was still living with my folks.  I think I practiced it clandestinely for a while, eventually moving it out of my bedroom and into the garage.  Shortly thereafter, a good friend from college, also a drummer, invited his work colleague, also a guitar player, to my house.  It was a hot summer day, and with a warped-neck bass that would frequently fritter out of tune, we learned a few tunes that day, notably Neil Young's "Keep on Rockin' in the Free World."  It felt like we were off an running.

And we were!  We met periodically over the coming months, learned more covers, then shortly after, I'd moved out of my parents house and rented a room in a house where our guitar player also rented a room.  We spent hours learning more covers, and he gradually started introducing me to some songs he was writing.  I had very rudimentary knowledge of this four-stringed thing I had for barely at year at this point, but I was committed to learning on the job.  In short order, with my buddy the drummer, we had a power pop trio moving right along, writing our own material and still learning covers.

Our first gig was at midnight in a sweat and smoke-drenched, urine- and BO-reeking, go-to-hell punk rock club over an hour from home (and on a worknight....we were all "jobbers"), but it didn't matter:  I was scared $hitless, but man, it was once again some kind of wonderful that evening.  We had a few friends make the trek to the gig, and by the time we went on - following both a thrash metal and punk band - our buddies had enough beer in them that we. sounded. flipping. fantastic.  I don't think anyone noticed that I broke a bass string.  (Sidebar:  that's not the easiest thing to do.)

The years ahead saw me say goodbye to that bedeviled Mach I, but I bought a proper Fender P-Bass, and a larger amp rig; we had many more gigs; I grew more confident in my playing as well as my singing (THAT was probably the more self-conscious thing I had to learn and overcome); we cut four demos in four years with a terrific guy at a terrific studio near Rockford, IL in a studio that *ahem* Cheap Trick also demoed material at for many years; and then...that original band...it all just kind of.  ended.  But looking back, it was a wonderful, exciting, 4+ year run.  We're still good friends to this day. 

Over the years, I have been in a few other bands, have grown far more confident in both my playing, singing, and occasional songwriting abilities, but none of those previous bands challenged me from a musical standpoint like the current band I'm in:  a Beatles tribute band.  We're a sextuplet, fronted by a female who handles about 85% of the lead vocal duties, and I'm "Sir Paul".  Learning how to play Paul McCartney's basslines has been the greatest four finger challenge of my bass journey thus far.  I don't think I would have had the patience and definitely not the experience, nor aptitude, to have attempted such a feat 25+ years ago. 

But, here I am, and here we are.  I suppose my only regret in life is that I didn't start doing this sooner - I started at roughly age 24 - but no matter.  I've been doing it more or less steadfastly and passionately for over half my life now.  I also actually play a lot of acoustic guitar, arguably more than bass, when I'm frittering around the house.

For as long as God gives me the ability to stand, play and sing, I will.  Or, if I eventually have to sit, play and sing, I will.  Or, if indeed I live to be extremely old and can only sit propped up in bed, please hand me the lightest bass you can find:  Oh, I did buy one of those recently, Sir Paul's classic Hofner violin bass. So, we should be covered. 

I'm looking forward to the future.

It indeed continues to be a magical mystery tour.

Cheers!