In my last sophomoric years of high school I was busying myself with fishing, finding ways to hurt myself on motorcycles and skateboards, fixing VWs, and dressing abnormally so that I could be an individual. However, there were many other “individuals” that looked just like me: confused.
I had taken piano, and while I loved the instrument and loved to play, I didn’t really love to practice. It was during this time that my older brother, Seth, brought home an electric guitar. Also, in between swinging on vines and riding three-wheelers and break-neck speeds, my best friend and I hung out in his dad’s basement where guitar parts lurked and tempted. I set myself to building a guitar – or rather throwing one together. With parts that didn’t match and a few nails (yes, nails) I hammered out an authentic slide – well, I wouldn’t really call it a guitar- but it made a sound and that was all I asked of it. Then, perhaps out of pity, my friend’s dad let me take his old 12 string!
This was a time of discovery. While working at the local guitar shop, Golden Frets, I was introduced to James Taylor, Simon & Garfunkel, Little Feat, and all sorts of music from the 60’s & 70’s. Seth brought home Johnny Winter, Stevie Ray Vaugn, and other blues artists. Soon, high school was background noise, except for Alice Berry’s choir class (and the electronic class where we got to use tools), where I began to love medieval and classical choral music. I was still taking sporadic piano lessons and stumbled my way through a Gershwin or Bach piece every now and then, too. I sold my motorcycle, and bought my first instrument – an electric bass. That led to a punk band, three notes, and soon boredom. Strangely, that led to praise music, and more boredom. That led to odd meters and strange guitar chords just for fun, and somehow, all this was being expressed in song writing, more out of laziness than genius, since it took too much time to learn other people’s tunes. Now that I think about it, though, I did take the time for James Taylor, Simon & Garfunkel, Don McClain, etc. Alone in my bedroom, standing in front of a record player, I worked hard figuring out how to play Sweet Baby James, Fire & Rain, Feeling Groovy, Vincent, and so many more. Stary Stary Night was warped, and I had to use just the right combination of a penny, paperclips and tape to get the player to not skip. Then there was the Segovia recording. I almost gave up, but I struggled through one piece, only to realize later that I had completely omitted the internal harmonic voice! Oh well, it instilled in me a love of classical guitar.
Somehow, through all this it never occurred to me that I should take lessons, or that I should study music. In fact, I was determined not to be a musician. So many were snobbish and broke. I opted for aviation and mission work. That never panned out and here I am, snobbish and broke. I still think I’m an individual, and I’m probably still confused. I’m still writing, but less out of laziness and more out of love now. Love (that is, God) has carried me through adolescence, both good and terrible influences, major trials, and has even kept me sane while being a musician. God is merciful. And it’s just a beginning.
