BOYS IN THE ENSEMBLE

It's all about relationship. Be it family or lovers or just that PA rushing towards your illegally parked car....one has to get along with others. They used to have this catagory of socialization on school report cards. "Christmo is attentive in class, if a bit of a daydreamer. His math skills are weak, although his verbal skills are improving. He seems to get along well with others and holds down the beat in the class band." In kindergarten I played the rhythm sticks. (I bring that up to the producer to no avail. Take six.) By fourth grade I begged my parents for a second hand trumpet. In between herpes outbreaks, the music teacher insisted I wasn't the worst player, but I WAS the only one not to make the band. That did not compute. I was crushed. I gave up on music until I was 33 years old. Never underestimate discouragement at an early age.
Perfect opportunities to pick up a guitar with no talent or skill, like the punk rock hey days of 1975-81 were let pass without a note being played. I wanted to. But I felt I was too old- at 25 and not good enough to even try. NO YOU DIDN'T MAKE BAND! I had to overcome the early patterning done on me by that fourth grade idiot. My writing began to morph into verse. At first the pieces were long, complex, ponderous poems. Over the years I trimmed them into songs. I realized my voice was strong, if not a little rough and off key. I didn't need to play an instrument. I could write and sing the songs. To those about to rock....we salute you.
My first band was formed as the '86 Mets brought home the series. I was between girlfriends after breaking up with Cookie in order to concentrate on Candy and subsequently been dumped by Candy so she could concentrate on the boyfriend she was cheating on in order to be with me. Follow? These periods of single life have always been the times of my greatest artistic achievements. God bless 'em, women take up a lot of time. I'm not saying it's time wasted. But it does cut into that just sitting around by one's self, twiddling thumbs and creating. Then there's the boredom factor. Art has always been my way to overcome that. No matter how pitiful your everyday is....sing along and before you know it you have a soundtrack to your pitiful life. Music makes pitiful more palitable
The band was an immediate success. We all smoked pot. All but the guitar player were hard working carpenters. And the guitar player had the pot. Once music became demystified I grabbed the mic. and howled. It was the most fun outside of sex I'd ever had. We were old (all over 30) but that didn't slow us down. We wore bad wigs, horrible fashions and cranked it to 11. Remember grunge? Shit, we started that when Kurt Cobain was still in a Seattle pre-school on the rhythm sticks. We played CB's and even opened for Meatloaf one night at the Paladium. That was our high point and I think we had been playing less than six months. Let me introduce the band: Bimmy on bass, Hoss on drums and Horrible Uncle Pee-Pee on guitar. "Man, to only be snorting coke out of a naked 11 year old's belly button on the beach on acid in Malibu too...." I sang as the lighters waved and the girls swayed. It don't get much better than this. Then a Jolt cola can whizzed past my ear. Ahhhh. A real fan.