Was always there for me
Music has influenced my life in so many ways, it is hard to really count. Whether it be while I am at work or in my car, at my house or in a bar, somewhere near or somewhere far, music is part of my everyday life (sorry for that).
My fascination with music began before I was even in school… Thinking back to the days singing along with George Thorogood and the Destroyers being Bad to the Bone in my car seat or shaking it with my childhood pup, Mugsy, in the living room to Blue Suede Shoes, music has always been there for me.
Music has the power to amplify almost any situation. I still have sharp memories that stick out seemingly because of the sounds…
For example the first time I ever heard ‘Once in a Lifetime’ by Talking Heads was while helping my dad by our garage. I specifically remember asking who sang it because I had to know, something in the bass line and the slightly off key yet urgent vocals spoke to me. Dad said, “This is the Talking Heads,” and when I asked why I had never heard of them before he simply replied, “Not sure, they are one of the best bands out there.”
I still think that is true as I sit here listening to David Byrne belt out some of my all-time favorite lyrics and remember the big black AM/FM radio with the 3 foot antenna behind my Dad, wearing the sweat and oil stained grey sweatshirt he always wore working in the yard. He still has that sweatshirt, and I still have that childlike curiosity in regard to sound.
And you may find yourself, living in a shotgun shack
And you may find yourself, in another part of the world
And you may find yourself, behind the wheel of a large automobile,
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house,
With a beautiful wife,
And you may ask yourself, well
How did I get here?
Once in a Lifetime – Talking Heads
Wherever you may find yourself, each moment is only one in a lifetime of moments.
I have a lot to thank my parents for when it comes to introducing musicians and songs to my repertoire. Mom and Dad clued me in on acts such as Springsteen, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, The Eagles, Van Morrison, Earth, Wind & Fire, The Band, and many, many more.
For some reason, when I was younger I never questioned what was good music vs bad music. Music was music. I was fortunate to understand that at an early age. I knew what music meant to people, how it could change the course of a given day from bright to dreary or despondent to joyous. How some of my most coveted songs today, are some of my parents’ least, and vice versa.
Luckily, my parents knew how to put up with little ol’ me and my sonic exploration continued then as it still does today.
It shouldn’t have been too surprising when at 8 years old, someone put a trumpet in my hand and I said, “Let’s do it!”
I vividly remember hovering over music stands struggling to translate the paper notes into quality sound for years. Over time, the process of learning and practicing became something I looked forward to and I even locked down a few solos in our elementary school band concerts. The highlight may still be excitedly playing my first big solo, ‘Taps’ in our 6th Grade concert. A short song that brought memories of joy from my first solo later reimagined in my memory while I watched my Grandfather’s burial with a knot in my throat.
One thing that always drew me to music was creating beautiful sounds in so many different ways. I could use my voice to sing, play brass, wind, strings or percussion, stomp, clap, whistle… The variety of sounds you can get from any of these instruments or even yourself is incredible, a true soundscape. It blew me away then and still does to this today.
But that wasn’t it, all the while I was learning how to play and read music I was also learning how to feel and create emotion in sound. To turn Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture into something more than just noise, but into a battle itself didn’t take battlefield experience, it takes empathy and a feel for the piece. Understanding how to make a note feel downright heartbreaking or exclamatory. How to walk someone who knows nothing of the Napoleonic Wars through conflict, depression and darkness, all the way to triumph, relief and jubilance.
There was something so versatile about music, so transcendent, that I knew it was going to be something very important in my life until the day I die.
I knew it when I picked up the guitar for the first time at the age of 16 because I wanted so badly to learn how to play my favorite song at the time, ‘The Past Recedes’ by John Frusciante. I am still playing guitar over 10 years later and Frusciante has since left and rejoined the Chili Peppers!
Once I went to college, I quickly began listening to more and more music and expanding my personal listening library. It started with folk music, finding small indie folk bands was a favorite free-time activity for a while and I listened through all the big names and found some smaller groups I love to this day like The Heligoats and Aunt Martha.
Shortly thereafter, I delved deep into the world of funk and jazz, getting into George Clinton and P-Funk, The Meters, Herbie Hancock, Luis Bonfa, Thelonious Munk, Gabor Szabo, Jiro Inagaki & Soul Media, Chet Baker, Dr. John, Booker T. & the MGs… The list can go on for hours.
I then slowly found my way into blues, R&B, soul, and gospel music. This is when I discovered even more amazing musicians like James Brown, Etta James, Ray Charles, Curtis Mayfield, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Billie Holiday, Sly & The Family Stone, Stevie Wonder, Al Green, B.B. King, Aretha Franklin, and so many more.
I still remember the first time I heard Gil Scott-Heron, I was stumbling from album to album on Youtube when I landed on the record ‘Bridges’ which he recorded with Brian Jackson. It opens with a song I recognized, ‘Hello Sunday, Hello Road’ so I figured, why not listen through and see what’s up.
What followed was 39 minutes of exploratory bliss. The song ‘We Almost Lost Detroit’ (sampled in ‘The People’ by rapper Common) is a major highlight of this unforgettable album. It mixes funky synths, soulful horns, and a snappy drum line with the all familiar voice of Scott-Heron who starts the song whispering and builds up to a righteous shout by the end. It was written as a protest to the partial meltdown of a nuclear reactor ten years prior and was notably played in the famous No Nukes Concerts, from which I ironically have a Jackson Browne shirt thanks to my Mom.
I would say more but a listen is worth more than anything I can begin to say about this tune.
It didn’t take long for me to realize some of the most famous and influential protest songs to ever have existed came directly from Scott-Heron and that I had even heard them before. I just never got around to figuring out who sang that badass track ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ or that wickedly groovy spoken word melody ‘B-Movie’.
The point I am trying to make is just how universal music is, how powerful it is, how moving it can be.
How being so lost in life or confused about the twists and turns you’ve taken can be so well articulated through the Talking Heads’ quirky verses and knowing despite the changes, everything is the same as it ever was.
How the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ former guitarist can inspire you so much with just 6 strings, you decide to pick up a new instrument and teach it to yourself.
How a protest poem from 1970 can feel just as powerful to a white kid who grew up in small-town 90s New Jersey suburbia as it did to a member of the Black Panthers fighting for equal rights in the tumultuous early 70s.
Music is so much more than just noise or sound.
Music knows no country. Music knows no city. Music knows no man, woman or child. Music knows no race. Music knows no religion.
Music knows no bounds.
Get out and listen, it’s good for you.
