This Sunday marks the 50th 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 11th
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 11th 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 7th 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 50th
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.
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