TELL US ABOUT YOUR MUSICAL JOURNEY!
Wow. Daunting challenge. So to begin, I’ll relieve those of you who may read this, the mental exercise of determining my age. I’m 72…which underscores that it is never too late in your life to pick up your axe, and start making it put out tunes! Doesn’t matter if you strum it, squeeze it, pick it, bow it, blow it, tinkle its keys, slobber on its reed, bang on or beat on it, or any of the many more ways to let the music in your soul come to the fore. Let it OUT! In tune, sort of in tune, doesn’t matter!
Because Katie’s Musical Journey invitation established that vocals and playing instruments qualify equally, my journey began with vocals. To wit, as a seven year old American kid temporarily living in a British suburb of London, England. Me and my british mates in the days leading up the Christmas Eve would trek up and down our neighborhood street, knocking on neighbors’ front doors, offering our Christmas Carol vocals, for which we would be rewarded a few ‘pence each. Wow…a paid gig! When my mates got too cold to continue, my capitalistic, entrepreneurial spirit sprang forth and I soldiered on until the venue was exhausted. (And that, was pretty much, other than singing along with John Denver tunes on the drive to work, the end of my vocal career).
So, shortly thereafter, back living on the east coast as a short and stocky, very proper British-speaking 4th grader, I decided, here’s a good idea, “I’ll take up violin”. This did not go well…First, it quickly became clear I wasn’t a childhood prodigy; second, it required practicing every day, which apparently just didn’t work for me (you’ll see this pattern again later); third, none of my school mates, all of whom were striving to soon depose Mickey Mantle (major league baseball hero) were inclined toward picking up a violin. So, – actually I can’t any longer remember the end of the 4th grade violin era – moving on.
Next, while trying to navigate the travails of life as a still stocky short sixth grader, my Mother, in her arguably wise ways, decided that I was well suited to playing Accordion…not just a squeeze box that an 11 year old might play…no, a 128 button, full blown keyboard with at least 8,000 keys. An instrument housed in a box that took a crane assist while ascending the stairs to my music teacher’s second story studio. This was such a massive instrument that if you spread the bellows to their full extension, it would have required assistance from Arnold Schwarzenegger to compress. Like the violin, this did not go on long.
So, on to 12 or maybe 13 years old. Aaahhh, Electric Guitar! Got one for Christmas. A Silvertone electric two-pickup guitar, with amp, from Sears. In case you are trying to figure out timing, 1961. Now living in Panama City, Florida. Gonna be Elvis The 2nd. My Dad signed me up with a 950 year old guitar teacher (he was really good by the way). But dang, he wanted me to first practice these boring scales, and learn to read, of all things, musical notation. Nah, wanna be a Rock N’ Roll star…NOW! I suspect you’re getting the picture. Rock N’ Roll star didn’t pan out, guitar went to the back of the closet. Now 16-17 years old, living in Northern California (1963-1965). SURFIN USA!!! I’m all over that! Broke out that Silvertone, started playing with neighborhood buds, got better…not great… sorta practicing…and one of my buds kind of oversold our skills and song list, and the next thing I know, we’re on the stage of my High School doing a Friday night dance gig…wait, I’m the rhythm guy, why am I now playing lead???!!! It wasn’t pretty, and we weren’t invited back, not only for an encore that night, but ever! Guitar…back in the closet (wish Instill had that axe, it was really sweet).
Advance the clock about 40 years…no musical instruments touched during that time. Moved to the central coast of California. Big bluegrass fan. Hmmm, like the sound of mandolins. Bought one. Don’t need no stinking lessons…I’ll teach myself. And did, sort of. Relearned how to sight read music, evolved to starting to step it up on Irish and bluegrass mandolin stuff…but that dang practicing thing – I just want to play like David Grisman or Sam Bush, NOW…kept getting in the way of my musical success.
A few years later, my wife and I took off as full time live aboard ocean-going sailors on our 50’ sailboat. My mandolin’s on board, sharing space with my wife and I in the forward bunk of our home, she blabbing something about “play the damn thing or lets use it as a dinghy paddle”. By happenstance I got hooked into taking lessons in Puerta Vallarta at a mexican bar/night club owned by a very excellent gringo musician. Something sparked, I lit off, got serious, haven’t stopped playing and seriously practicing since. And several years later bought my first of now five fiddles (way up in the mountains of Mexico). Fiddle became my passion. I’ve since been playing mando and more recently almost exclusively fiddle with fellow sailing musicians who come from across the world while sailing throughout the Caribbean and Pacific waters and coastlines of Centraland South America. My fellow musician’s skills range from rookies like me, to a retired 50-year long cellist who was at one time the lead cellist in the Washington DC symphony.
But, as as largely self-taught fiddler, I knew if I was ever going to play at a level that I seek, I needed instruction. By pure coincidence in 2019 I attended California Coastal Music Camp, and ended up in Katie’s Swing Fiddle class which brings us to today. When I signed up for the Camp, hoping to find help in simply getting help to better play my fiddle and saw that “Swing Fiddle” was the only option, I ended up spending five days in her class. That led to my becoming Fiddle School student, for which my wife is eternally grateful…my cat-screeching Fiddle play is pretty much a thing of the past. I have a repertoire of pieces that I am able to play without having to endlessly repeat a phrase to nail it, and most of the time my notes are on key. Now…about that Rock N’ Roll Star part!