The Beatles: My Musical Inspiration - 50 Years Later

This Sunday marks the 50^th anniversary of the Beatles’ appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. It’s widely accepted that this performance changed the world of TV and music forever. Anyone old enough to remember it can recall that great moment on a Sunday night in February when 73 million people in the U.S. were introduced to the musical force called the Beatles. For me, it was the beginning of what I consider to be me today.

When Paul McCartney counted out the beginning of All My Loving that historic night, I was 10 years old, sitting on my parents’ bed in their room watching the TV. It was black-and-white, and had one small speaker. I was transfixed; from that time onward, I listened to the radio every minute I could. I had it on while I did my homework, or was just lying on my bed staring into space. 

I was hooked. And why not? To a boy approaching his 11^th birthday, they were heroes – cool, powerful, and they seemed to be having a great time together. Besides that, the music was brilliant. Music critics started opining about their use of unusual chords and transitions, but it was those polished three-part harmonies, generous samplings of R & B classics from American artists, and especially, that youthful energy that captivated me, and millions of others.

For my 11^th birthday, I received my own copy of Meet the Beatles, the first American album. My sitter, a teenage girl who watched us (I have two younger brothers), taught me some basic dance moves to that album for my 7^th grade dance. I remember them playing Beatles songs at the dance, including someone’s joke parody called “I Want to Hold Your Feet.”

I continued to listen to the radio enthusiastically through 1964, 1965, and 1966, hearing Beatles songs as they came out, along with their British Invasion buddies: the Rolling Stones, The Kinks, The Animals, the Hollies, the Dave Clark Five, Herman’s Hermits, Gerry and the Pacemakers, The Who, and on and on. But it was in 1967, after the Beatles retired from touring and released the mysterious Strawberry Fields Forever, that Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band appeared. 

That June, my mother, for some reason, brought home a copy of the album. I listened to it over and over and over, as I’m sure millions of other Beatle fans did. I remember sitting directly in front of the Curtis-Mathes wood stereo cabinet and looking at the texture of the speaker grilles and studying the centerfold photo of the four guys with their mustaches. I decided I had to get wire-rimmed glasses like my hero, John Lennon, and by 1968, I had them. Wearing glasses was finally cool!

Sgt. Pepper’s was an experience, from the cough and murmuring of the crowd at the beginning to the long, extended multi-piano chord that concludes A Day in the Life. It was unique, exciting, and monumental. Before long, other bands inserted odd sections and instruments into their music, too.

I used to listen to the album and strum a badminton racquet that was lying around the house. I was a bored clarinetist at the back of the section in the school band. If mom, as an amateur cellist, was the musical inspiration and album bringer, my father was the one who brought the gear. He and mom had separated the previous fall, but one day, when he came to visit us, dad brought me an electric guitar and small amplifier that some guy at work was selling. This was as important, in its own way, as hearing the Beatles on TV in 1964. Suddenly, I could start to play the songs myself! This was a big deal.

 The next spring, I got an acoustic guitar, so I could easily sit in my bedroom and play Beatle songs as much as I wanted. My friend Lisa, who lived next door, was three years younger, but would sunbathe on the other side of the fence and listen to me play. Eventually, we would sing together. Our special song was, I Will, from the The Beatles (White Album).

The energy and amazing changes of 1964’s music lasted, for me, through the White Album in November of 1968, but by 1969, Beatle songs didn’t have the same impact, as times and tastes changed. The whole radio scene was changing. The sense of the four musicians being a unit had long disappeared, as they grew up and became more individuated. I grew up too, although I still played my guitar. I even started to write my own songs, emulating my heroes.

In 1969, I moved to Arizona, and took my guitars with me. In my loneliness, I wrote more songs, and also spent time with a particular girl, listening to Abbey Road, much in the way I had sat alone in front of that stereo in 1967 with Sgt. Pepper.  I tried to form a band with a couple of friends, but, despite acquiring a fantastic Fender amplifier (worth a fortune today, if I still had it), it went nowhere. Then, in the spring, the Beatles broke up, right as I graduated from high school. The world changed again.

Back in California in 1970 and 1971, I bought and listened to John, Paul, and George’s initial solo albums. There was some great material on there (Imagine, Maybe I’m Amazed, My Sweet Lord), but it wasn’t the same. I tried being a solo “Dylan understudy” in San Francisco clubs for a little while, but it was intimidating for an 18-year-old suburbanite, and I quickly let it go, instead pursuing music at San Francisco State University. That lasted one semester. “Sorry, no guitar majors.” I eventually became an English major and graduated, years later.

In 1972, I got the urge to play the electric bass. I’m not sure, looking back, why exactly, but I remember liking the sounds Paul made with his violin-style Hofner. I took the only thing I had of value, my coin collection, and traded it for a green Fender-style bass in a pawn shop in the Tenderloin. Who needed those old coins anyway? 

I didn’t even have an amplifier yet, but I took my new treasure home and plunked away on it, finger style, hoping for something to happen. It wasn’t long before someone broke into my ground-floor apartment and stole my beloved bass. That was the end of that experiment—before it had a chance to develop.

After that, I played guitar occasionally for fun. I recorded some of my songs in 1971 at a friend’s house, and that recording exists today. I took my acoustic guitar to Israel in 1974 and impressed the natives with my rendition of “House of the Rising Sun” and various Beatles tunes, but I left it there when I came home. It needed repairs.

Shortly after I graduated from college, I bought a nice, modestly priced acoustic guitar to replace the one I’d given away five years earlier. I played bluegrass mandolin in a Sunday pickup band in 1980. My first wife and I sang a few times together (she performs wonderfully with a Jazz trio today). But after that, it wasn’t until 2003, as I approached my 50^th birthday, that I decided that it was time to get my bass.

Where do these ideas come from? My younger son was taking guitar lessons, so I was visiting the music store every week. My old longing was rekindled. But now, my coin collection long gone, I mentioned it to my beloved and supportive wife, who said, “Why don’t you just go buy one?” So, there you have it. Mom supplied Sgt. Pepper’s, dad the first guitar, my son inspired me with his guitar lessons, and now, my darling spouse gave me the OK to go get the instrument of my dreams.

I shopped, and found a lovely Fender bass. It has a sunburst finish, with aluminum pick guard, and combines the classic “Precision” body with a “Jazz” neck. Although I was already a guitar player, I decided to take a few bass lessons, to get up to speed. I started weekly lessons with Dennis, a guy about my age with a ponytail who had a lifetime of musical experience. We worked on a variety of songs that I picked, new and old, and I found that playing the bass felt natural. Dennis encouraged me to find other musicians to play with. I now understand the importance of this. Music is much more than lessons. It’s a living thing that happens when people play together.

Thanks to Dennis’ suggestion, and references from the music store, I found three other musicians, and we started our own band! After all these years, I was the bass player in a band. Red Paint lasted for six years, and although we didn’t get rich or famous, we played gigs and even recorded a CD! It was a dream come true. We duplicated the Beatles in being a foursome on guitars, bass and drums. We even played a few Beatles songs – I got to do my version of You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away, a Lennon-penned favorite.

Once again, I don’t know exactly where this urge came from, but it had something to do with a little foldable list of recommended albums that featured the bass. Sgt. Pepper’s was on the list, but I also started listening to some music I hadn’t heard before, including some great Jazz recordings. I became aware of the rich tones of the upright bass on Jazz and some folk and bluegrass albums. Paul Chambers! Ray Brown! I found one of those old-fashioned advertisements on the wall of a music store, with little pull-off tabs at the bottom with the teacher’s name and phone number. I called and set up my first acoustic bass lesson in July of 2004.

Maybe having the cello around the house growing up helped, but I moved over to the upright bass pretty easily. After an enjoyable first lesson using his bass, Damon, my new teacher, took me to a fine old music store in downtown Oakland, where I rented my own big brown bass. What was I thinking? I started on the basic orange book—the Simandl method -- but also fooled around with some Jazz tunes. Damon was the right guy for me – young and helpful and he didn’t treat me like a beginner.

After a year or so of this, I took the summer off to think about it. I decided to continue, and at that point, I traded my loaner for a real bass of my own. It’s a beauty, hand-carved in China and I still play it almost every day.

There’s more still to this story. In 2006, I got to play in a Beatles cover band, Fab Fever. What could be better than that? I was still finding my way on the bass, but we did have a great time while it lasted. Although I left that group to focus my energies on Red Paint, today, I still play with one member of that group, Frank. We’re Two of Us, and as a duo, we run through a range of Beatles songs, and some other fine material. Hey—the Beatles played covers, too. Frank has a rich baritone, so we inevitably sing the Beatles’ songs in a lower key. I still have many friendships from the Fab Fever group, and we’ve played summer outdoor concerts affiliated with the Odd Fellows.

In late 2006, just around the time that my Red Paint group got started, I got a flyer in the mail for the local Adult School. In it, I saw a listing for a community orchestra. I hadn’t thought about that, but why not? I signed up.

On January 2, 2007, I hauled my upright bass to a rehearsal at a private home. It was a week before rehearsals would begin at the school. Not knowing a soul, I stood in the back and tried to play what was on the music. I hit a few notes, and despite my frustration and embarrassment, I enjoyed being with the group. I especially liked the conductor, Josh. With a smile, he came over to talk with me. I apologized for hitting so few notes, and he said, “Well, come on back next week and you can play some more!” I did, and that was the beginning of what’s now a seven-year position in the Castro Valley Adult School Chamber Orchestra. I’m the principal bassist there now. I’ve played three or four concerts a year of the greats – Beethoven, Dvorak, Mozart, and many others. 

From that orchestra connection, I’ve picked up chamber music, playing in small groups, including quarterly weekends locally and two one-week-long summertime visits to the fantastic Humboldt Chamber Music Workshop. There is not much better on this earth than living in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria with your fellow musicians, and playing beautiful music all day and all night. I came home both times from my “grown up music camp” inspired and energized.

Today? I’m a member of Tablues, a blues and R&B band. We played 20 gigs in the second half of last year, and we’ve recorded some nice demos. I’m still with the orchestra. I am playing a Beethoven Septet with a private chamber music group that found me last year to help them with Schubert’s Trout Quintet, which needs a bass! I’ve played the Trout often over the last few years, pleasing musicians who enjoy the deep sound. Most chamber music doesn’t include bass.

Thank you, John, Paul, George and Ringo, for starting me off on my musical path. And also, thanks to Mom, Dad, Cathy, Cameron, Joy, Dennis, Damon, Frank, Josh, Red Paint, Fab Fever, The Castro Valley Chamber Orchestra, Sycamore 129 Blues Band, Tablues, Kenneth, and all my other musical friends and colleagues, who’ve made it possible.

A Visit with Lowell's Zon Bass Guitar

Today, I went to visit visit one of my late friend Lowell's basses. It has been consigned with the fine musical instrument store, Gryphon Stringed Instruments, in Palo Alto, CA.

Click the link, and you'll see a description and a bunch of photos of this lovely instrument. Zon is well regarded in the bass community for its fine products, and this surely was one of Lowell's favorites. I've heard bassist Michael Manring do incredible things with his Zon.

I located the store tucked into some mixed use space behind town, across from the Mercedes-Benz showroom. After finding a parking spot on the street alongside the nondescript building, I walked around the corner and entered.

Gryphon has desks and glass counters up front, but ranging to the side and back are rooms full of all kinds of acoustic guitars, dobros, banjos, and MORE guitars. There was a long wall covered with multicolored ukuleles. I discovered a collection of banjos in one room, a grouping of shiny dobros further in. Lowell's Zon Sonus Standard five-string bass, with its lovely burl face, was hanging in a short rack of several electric basses in a soundproof room. Derek See, who found it for me, wore a 1967-style paisley shirt, which I admired.

Once inside the room, plugged into a handy amp, it was just me and the bass. I said hi to it, and then held it close, thinking about Lowell playing it. I played some runs, and some patterns from the songs I do with Tablues, my band. I twiddled the knobs, changing the pickups and tone. It sounded  and felt great, as I expected.

I believe that basses are best when played with other instruments, so I invited in Oliver, who was sampling a 1941 Martin acoustic guitar in the main showroom. It had a price tag of $38,000. Oh MY. I might be scared to touch something that valuable! He played through a couple of fiddle tunes with me on the guitar before stepping back into the other room. It was a sublime moment.

I guess I hoped to channel Lowell or have some kind of cosmic experience while holding his bass, but I realized that this instrument, lovely as it was, was not going to serve as a magic conduit to my friend. The fact that Lowell owned it doesn't make it a better instrument, but I do feel that if I played it in shows and rehearsed with it, I'd remember my friend more often and share something special with him.

Sadly, at $1,275, the Zon is a little over my budget right now. I'd love to have a five-string bass someday, and this one would be perfect, but it looks like it'll have to wait.

I also was hoping to find another of Lowell's basses, a hollow-bodied Tacoma Thunderchief. With its single paisley sound hole, it was truly remarkable looking and sounding. I played it last year when I visited Lowell to bring him some dinner and hang out. Despite his illness, he was still able to pick up a guitar and we played several songs together. But the Tacoma already has a new home.

Lowell, as a Buddhist, might laugh at my attachment to material things. I continue to live here in the material world while he does not, and that's just the way it is. I like to think that even without possessing his instruments, I can use the memory of my friend to live a better life, filled with more of the humor, kindness, creativity and awareness that Lowell had in abundance in his life. I don't need a specific instrument to do that. But I do know that if I had the cash I would have a new member in my musical arsenal tonight.

Happy to Play the Blues

I just played bass this afternoon with some talented musicians at Gary Lamb's monthly Blues Jam at the Bistro in Hayward. It was my first time playing there--I've enjoyed listening and drinking good beers on tap before but had never ascended to the small stage.

I must admit I was just a little nervous, since it was a new thing for me, but I didn't really feel unprepared, either. They called out the key and I just jumped in. This was a rite of passage, in a way, because I played with people I'd never met and was able to fit in and sound good. That's a milestone in a bass-playing career that started only nine years ago.

It's not that difficult to play the Blues bass--if you're had some practice. I've been hanging with my buds (dawgs) lately, putting together a show for August 12th, and I think my blues playing has definitely moved up a notch. It's ironic, though. The Blues are about pain and suffering but playing them is such bliss.

The lead guitarists I played with--and listened to later--were amazingly good. That's where the real mind-blowing performances come from. And the bassist who followed me,Vic, was incredible. I took notes--and he was friendly afterwards as we compared bass tattoos. He got terrific sound from his 1964 Fender Precision. We had fine drummers and harmonica wizards as well.

I'll be heading on over there next month to do it again!

Red Paint CD Release Party Tonight - a Culmination

Tonight, Red Paint, an Alameda, California-based four-piece rock band, takes the stage at its first ever CD Release Party. It's the culmination of everything the group has worked for since it started up in lead guitarist Shaun Reid's livingroom in October of 2006. It also features Colin Close as lead singer and rhythm guitarist, Tony Herrin on drums and me on bass. Colin writes most of our original material.

For me, it began long before 2006. Sure, I got my Fender Precision Bass Special on my birthday in 2003, but my actual first bass goes back to when I was just 18, living alone in semi-poverty in San Francisco. I had dreamed of bass playing for years, perhaps from listening to Paul McCartney's brilliant work with the Beatles and other 1960's pop music. In any case, I was strumming my guitar and trying to start a modest career as a soloist in the image of, say, Bob Dylan. It was going slowly, with open mike nights at the Coffee Gallery in San Francisco's North Beach and a few little parties and events.

In any case, I decided to take my sole item of value--my coin collection--to a pawn shop in the Tenderloin and acquire a bass. I must have read about Jazz musicians doing this, I don't know. In any case, there was a green Fender-style solid-body electric bass. I made the swap, and saw all those remarkably unworn 19th-century Indian pennies, along with my $2-1/2 gold piece, slip away forever.

I took my new possession home and plunked away on it for a while, but, without an amplifier, I wasn't much good to anyone. Sadly, not too much later, someone broke into my ground-floor apartment and stole my bass. I figured it was a message. I devoted my energies thenceforth to my college education and tried to forget about bass playing, although I did still strum and sing with my guitar over the years and spent one fun year playing bluegrass mandolin.

A 50th birthday is a milestone. I decided, in lieu of a Ferrari or an affair, to acquire the bass I always wanted. I advanced this idea to my supportive wife and she said, "Go get it!"

After some shopping around I settled on the electric bass I still play most of the time. Although I acquired two other bass guitars over the years, and have made a whole second project with the upright bass, I stand today ready to play our band's 11-song CD (all original songs) live in front of as many friends and relatives as are willing to answer an EVITE and actually show up. You can hear some of it on our Facebook page.

We recorded this music a while ago, in two different studios, but it took a while to plan the event and get the date. We are excited to offer a second set of new original songs and a few covers in our second set. For our fans, it's a chance to hear something new from the band. You really have no good excuse for not being there, unless, of course, you're reading this in Anchorage, Alaska or Peru or Poland.

I always wanted to be in a band, was drawn to bass playing since Nixon was president, and love music. What could be better than this?

Red Paint plays at High Street Station in Alameda, California on Saturday, January 21, 2012 from 7 - 10 p.m.

Jack Casady Epiphone Signature Bass--Tested

I saw the ad for the Epiphone Jack Casady Signature Bass in Bass Player magazine months ago. That motivated me to post on Jack. I finally found a music store within driving distance that had one, so I went there today.

On the one hour drive there, I listened to the Jefferson Airplane's 1969 Fillmore East concert Sweeping Up the Spotlight. On the way home, it was Steady as she Goes, the recent Hot Tuna CD. That's the past and present of Jack's playing--all great.

Tall Toad Music in Petaluma (California), is an inviting, old-fashioned full-service store right in the heart of the small downtown, staffed by helpful and friendly employees. I plucked the golden instrument from its high-mounted rack and sat down to enjoy it. It looked even better than the photo, which makes the surface look kind of matte-finished. Actually, it glows. The neck felt familiar--about the same shape and length as my usual Fender P Special--and through one of Fender's new tube amps the bass put out a nice warm sound. It has just one pickup, but the literature says that Jack worked with the Gibson/Epiphone folks to fine tune it to his demanding specs.

The varitone knob, looking like an old-fashioned stove knob, varies the output at a touch for a sharper or mellower sound. I didn't play very loud, and I didn't play in my usual group, so it's hard to say if it would make my band sound better, but the semi-hollow body instrument feels good to the touch and not too heavy.

The big question becomes, after the search and the fun--do I need this bass today? Of course, the answer is, No. But, kidding around with the sales guys, one of them asked, "How many basses does a guy need?" I answered, to laughs, "one more than you have right now." Ha ha.

Considering the amount of dust on the Jack Casady bass I'm guessing it's been sitting around for a while. I wonder how much they'd take off that price to move it. But, remember, I don't need it, right?

Right?

Hot Tuna - Steady as She Goes

Hot Tuna, besides sounding just like the word for "wedding" in Hebrew, has always been centered around the musical synergy of it's two primary members--original Jefferson Airplane members Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady. This new CD, Steady as She Goes, is their first one in two decades, which they explain in the liner notes simply by saying "The time wasn't right yet." I'm not sure what that means, exactly, but this 12-song production is immediately satisfying.

Produced by Larry Campbell, who contributes various support instruments, and recorded at Levon Helm Studios in Woodstock, NY, it has both a rustic, ambling accessibility and the burnished perfection of musicians who've honed their craft since the 1960's. With Teresa Williams' high, Grace Slick-like vocal harmonies, you'd almost think you were listening to the Airplane. That would be a good thing.

The band also includes Barry Mitterhoff on a collection of mandolins and Skoota Warner, who pushes everything along nicely with his drumming.

This is a CD that doesn't take several listens to like. I was humming pieces of it after one go-round. I'm especially taken with Jack's long bass solo on track 5, A Little Faster, and Jorma's guitar work is intensely satisfying throughout.

I'm glad I ordered the CD instead of simply downloading the music. The cover shows a variety of old photos of historical tattooed ladies--and if you look closely, they all have Hot Tuna, the album title, or Jack and Jorma's names added to their designs. The colorful front cover is a fresh take on classic Sailor Jerry tattoo images (mermaids, ships, waves and an octopus).

Cars and Music - 40 years ago

Test Driving Life combines my interest in music with my longtime association with cars. That means sometimes it's one and sometimes the other (or if I'm lucky, both). Or--sometimes it's something else--I call that stuff "the third half."

In any case, I woke up today knowing I had a one-hour set to play with Red Paint and remembered a time long ago, when I was starting out on my brief solo "minstrel" career. I was occasionally playing open mike nights at places like the Coffee Gallery in North Beach (San Francisco) but what came back to me was the several times I drove up to Stockton (1-1/2 hours away) to play at the Beauty and the Beast Coffee House. I have little 8-1/2 x 11 posters to prove it!

A guy I'd met locally in an extremely brief band association, Pat Kelley, called me and up I went. We were in our late teens, and he was living with his parents, but he had the garage apartment. That meant we were free to enjoy smoking some substances--I know that I remember little of those musical weekends today because I was not normal during much of them.

My plan was to sit on stage with my guitar and sing my songs. I enjoyed it immensely, but alas, the world was filled with "Bob Dylan's Understudies" back then and I was not exceptionally talented or driven.

Now--the car part. My sweet mother lent me her beautiful baby blue 1966 Dodge Dart convertible to drive to Stockton and back. I was pretty much recovered from my indulgence by the time I slipped behind the wheel on the way home (clear and sharp on the way up, of course). It was a joy to drive that car around with its quick-drop electric top. It had a three-speed manual transmission -- on the tree. What a beauty. Try finding one today.

That car is long gone, and my dream of a strumming and singing career had faded away by 1972. I went off to college instead. But I still remember something of Pat and the Beauty and the Beast Coffee House (and those lost weekends).

Paul McCartney is 69 Today

I seem to be getting into the famous musician birthday thing lately, but, as they do on KCSM, my local all-Jazz FM station, it gives me a chance to focus on a musical great. And Sir Paul means a lot to me--especially as a Beatle. He, along with John, George and Ringo, were my heroes when I was a teenager, and they influence me today.

Paul was my first major bass influence--and that's my instrument now. I wear my two primary basses on my left arm as part of that enthusiasm, and am a member of both my band, Red Paint, and my community orchestra.

Paul, having started as a guitarist and being also a piano player, is a more melodic bassist than someone who plays it as simply part of the rhythm section. His bass parts often take on a second tune--as in, for example, Something, where, if you tune out George, it's a whole different, low-pitched world. I've noticed that when it's one of Paul's songs and he's singing the lead, the bass part is simpler. When John or George (or even Ringo) is singing it, he often gets much more elaborate.

Paul played with a pick much of the time--I don't--but otherwise he's a big inspiration. I loved his Beatles work best. Something in the chemistry of the group--or maybe his youthful energy. I've bought and listened to later albums--even up to recent CDs like Memory Almost Full, but he no longer makes albums you want to play over and over. He has certainly released a lot of material over the years after his relatively brief Beatles career.

There are the great Paul songs, like Yesterday, Hey Jude and Let it Be, of course, and some favorites of mine. I always liked For No-One, from the middle period. When I'm 64 is catchy and he's the only Beatle who could write it. Best post-Beatle song? Maybe I'm Amazed comes to mind.

I saw Paul and his band--not Wings--play a few years ago and he put on a great show. Many of the numbers were Beatles songs--it was the next best thing to seeing the Fab Four in action. I wish him happiness today and for what I hope will be a very long life--and a great new marriage.

My Tattoo

On December 4, I went into Everlasting Tattoo in San Francisco to get my two basses permanently drawn on my left arm. The photo at the left shows my first tattoo after five days, when the initial swelling is gone.

Why would I do this?

Until quite recently, I believed that tattoos were favored only by sailors, who, on a drunken leave, staggered into a tiny tattoo parlor in some foreign port. Or, they were popular with motorcycle gang members, with Harley-Davidson marked in ink somewhere on their bodies. In more recent years, I’ve seen a lot of teenage girls getting “tramp stamps”—permanent decorations to fill the area between their waists and rear cleavage left open by dramatic, low slung pants designs. I certainly have never identified with or particularly been interested in any of those ink customers.

That all changed when my son, Cameron, got a beautiful tattoo done on his chest. We paid for it as an 18th birthday gift and high school graduation commemoration. I was so impressed by the work of Doug Hansen, the artist, that I commissioned him to do one for me.

I took in a sketch and Doug created a very quick drawing from it--already improving it tremendously (see left). He later sent me another, more finished drawing. I felt it needed its proportions changed, and he sent a third drawing. That was the one we used as a basis for my actual tattoo. In fact, Doug used a method of transferring the art directly to my arm to use as a pattern.



The drawing to the left shows the final artwork before going it was applied to my arm. I enjoyed looking at this image over and over while waiting impatiently for the day when it would become part of me.

The process of being tattooed is pretty simple. You lie down (or sit--depending on the part being worked on). The artist cleans and shaves the area. Then, he or she applies the design--or at least Doug did. The artist could work freehand. Then, he or she uses an electric needle tool to etch the design into your skin.

Yes, it hurts--but the pain is manageable, and with the release of endorphins, you begin to separate from it. My tattoo took about 2-1/2 hours to apply after the initial preparation.

Afterwards, you wear plastic wrap over it for a few hours, then begin applying A&D ointment for a few days, then switch to skin lotion. The important thing is to avoid picking at the tiny scabs that appear so you don't lose any of the image.

I love my tattoo, and am scheduled to go back next month to have more detail and some color applied to the instruments.