Anyone who knows me fairly well knows my many shortcomings. Some are pretty serious -- my infamous temper and "colorful" language. Others, while less serious, are just sad and at the same time, humorous.
First, I am mathematically challenged. Forget the fact that math is the language of logic; I see nothing logical or rational about it at all. I can't even balance my checkbook WITH a calculator! And second, I have the singing ability of cats in heat. My vocal stylings are so bad that when my sons were younger, they would beg me to NOT sing with them. Not even "Mary Had A Little Lamb"!
Despite the lack of these skills that are vitally important to music, it has always been an important part of my life. In my parents' home, we listened to Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra one day, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash the next. We never listened to that "long-hair shit", my dad's term to describe everything from Beethoven to The Beatles. I even missed the Fab Four's first performance on Ed Sullivan because of my dad's aversion to rock and roll.
At some point, my parents decided that I needed to learn to play an instrument and bought an organ. First, a nice little Wurlitzer, then a Lowery theater organ -- the kind they played in supper clubs! And I took lessons . . . for ye-e-a-ars, I took lessons. From talented musicians who performed in supper clubs, in jazz bands, even in rock and roll bands. Oh, I could read the music and was technically proficient. But actually "perform" the music? Not on your life!
While my playing ability was the musical equivalent of two left feet, all that practice and playing deepened my knowledge and appreciation of all types of music. I began to understand how notes went together to weave a melody. I looked for meaning in lyrics and classical influences in popular songs. I even took college classes about the sociological impact of popular music. (Ever write a paper on the Tolkienesque references in the music of Led Zeppelin or take a test on the meaning of Don McLean's "American Pie"? I have.)
But I had help expanding my musical horizons along the way. I am so thankful to all of those who taught me that, despite my lack of talent, I could still enjoy playing the keyboard. There are days that I miss the feel of my fingers on the keys, my feet on the pedals. I still dream of one day owning a Hammond B-3 and playing Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor", or at least the opening arpeggio from "In-A-Gadda-da-Vida".
My musical knowledge and tastes would be limited indeed had many individuals not opened my ears to new sounds. My late friend Scott introduced me to the psychadelic philosophy of Pink Floyd and the classical sounds of Yes, two groups that remain favorites to this day. When Carl-Michal shared celtic music with me, I discovered the roots of much of the bluegrass music I heard growing up, and appreciated it so much more. And Kevin, well he gave me U2, Sisters of Mercy, Mozart, Black Flag, and all those horribly wonderful 80s groups like The Stabilizers, plus many more.
And, then there is Marti, the wonderfully talented singer-songwriter, who told me that anyone can sing if the song is in the right key. God love you, Marti, I'm still looking for that key.
My family has always shared in (or tolerated) my musical adventures. And while I never sang to my sons, I have given them a legacy of enjoying and appreciating all types of music. My youngest even possesses that ear for music and performance talent that I lack.
I cannot imagine a life without music. I listen to some type of music every day. After all, life is so much better with a soundtrack.
First, I am mathematically challenged. Forget the fact that math is the language of logic; I see nothing logical or rational about it at all. I can't even balance my checkbook WITH a calculator! And second, I have the singing ability of cats in heat. My vocal stylings are so bad that when my sons were younger, they would beg me to NOT sing with them. Not even "Mary Had A Little Lamb"!
Despite the lack of these skills that are vitally important to music, it has always been an important part of my life. In my parents' home, we listened to Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra one day, Patsy Cline and Johnny Cash the next. We never listened to that "long-hair shit", my dad's term to describe everything from Beethoven to The Beatles. I even missed the Fab Four's first performance on Ed Sullivan because of my dad's aversion to rock and roll.
At some point, my parents decided that I needed to learn to play an instrument and bought an organ. First, a nice little Wurlitzer, then a Lowery theater organ -- the kind they played in supper clubs! And I took lessons . . . for ye-e-a-ars, I took lessons. From talented musicians who performed in supper clubs, in jazz bands, even in rock and roll bands. Oh, I could read the music and was technically proficient. But actually "perform" the music? Not on your life!
While my playing ability was the musical equivalent of two left feet, all that practice and playing deepened my knowledge and appreciation of all types of music. I began to understand how notes went together to weave a melody. I looked for meaning in lyrics and classical influences in popular songs. I even took college classes about the sociological impact of popular music. (Ever write a paper on the Tolkienesque references in the music of Led Zeppelin or take a test on the meaning of Don McLean's "American Pie"? I have.)
But I had help expanding my musical horizons along the way. I am so thankful to all of those who taught me that, despite my lack of talent, I could still enjoy playing the keyboard. There are days that I miss the feel of my fingers on the keys, my feet on the pedals. I still dream of one day owning a Hammond B-3 and playing Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor", or at least the opening arpeggio from "In-A-Gadda-da-Vida".
My musical knowledge and tastes would be limited indeed had many individuals not opened my ears to new sounds. My late friend Scott introduced me to the psychadelic philosophy of Pink Floyd and the classical sounds of Yes, two groups that remain favorites to this day. When Carl-Michal shared celtic music with me, I discovered the roots of much of the bluegrass music I heard growing up, and appreciated it so much more. And Kevin, well he gave me U2, Sisters of Mercy, Mozart, Black Flag, and all those horribly wonderful 80s groups like The Stabilizers, plus many more.
And, then there is Marti, the wonderfully talented singer-songwriter, who told me that anyone can sing if the song is in the right key. God love you, Marti, I'm still looking for that key.
My family has always shared in (or tolerated) my musical adventures. And while I never sang to my sons, I have given them a legacy of enjoying and appreciating all types of music. My youngest even possesses that ear for music and performance talent that I lack.
I cannot imagine a life without music. I listen to some type of music every day. After all, life is so much better with a soundtrack.
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