Any reason one human feels the need to climb on the back of another?
I have a huge ego, I play music for live audiences and love it.
But I need not hurt any human to make myself feel better.
I like to share.
That is my ego.
Talk too much.
Play too much.
I share.
But I don't look for pecking order. Or how to climb the ladders in life, social or business.
When one human steps on another to make themselves feel better, what is it they lack? Why don't they want to share?
My greatest joy is watching a youngster be inspired or a look of bliss from person in the midst of a memory the music may have evoked.
I feed off the communal energy inherent in a gig.
Some seem to want to rule that energy, not share it.
Their loss.
But it impacts us all.
A band is the marriage of the group members. Four or five individuals that must live together, learn all the foibles of the rest of the group and accept them in an effort to make the band sound good.
It's those selfish ones that play louder and want to be heard alone and shining that can detract from our collective fun.
Chill the fuck out.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Al DiMeola
In 1972 a friend of mine offered to get lessons for me with as he put it,
"The best guitarist in the world."
I scoffed and let the comment go. After all, I was the best guitarist in the world at sixteen.
Maybe six months later I caved and called to schedule a lesson.
I had my mother drive me to Bergenfield and drop me at the address given.
I climbed the staircase outside to the second floor door and knocked.
A guy my size, wearing glasses answered.
The room had a full drum set, a couple of guitars and an amp.
I had been instructed to bring the album I would like to learn and had brought Jimi Hendrix Axis: Bold As Love.
Al introduced himself and took my album. He put the song on. When it finished he played the song back, note for note.
I lit a cigarette.
As he continued to play and show me his chops I lit cigarette after cigarette...I think I consumed an entire pack.
This guy was amazing and I could not believe what I was seeing and hearing.
For the next year or so I went over to his house every Wednesday at 7 pm for my hour of Al's time...$10.
Sometimes Al was delayed because of rehearsals with his then band, Barry Miles in NYC.
I would sit in Mrs. DiMeola's kitchen, sample the spaghetti sauce and talk, waiting for Al to return.
In 1976 I went to Carnegie Hall to see Al playing with his new gig, Return To Forever. As the show ended my pal and I walked to the backstage entrance to try to get in to see Al and say, "Hi."
The mutual friend who had introduced us was there in line.
"Mike, can you get us in?"
"No can do man, way too heavy."
I was crestfallen and started walking away.
I felt a hand on my wrist and a soft voice,
"Let's go see Al."
It was Mrs. DiMeola. She took me by the hand, up the stairs passed Mike who looked imploringly at me to the backstage area.
"Albert, look who is here to see you!"
I could see a look of,
"Aw ma...AL, AL, not Albert."
But he said nothing except,
"Hey man!"
Al was the fundamental pivot point in my guitar studies. Everything changed after he left NJ for the Jazz world at large.
And here I am 40 years later still feeling his influence.
Thank you, Al.
"The best guitarist in the world."
I scoffed and let the comment go. After all, I was the best guitarist in the world at sixteen.
Maybe six months later I caved and called to schedule a lesson.
I had my mother drive me to Bergenfield and drop me at the address given.
I climbed the staircase outside to the second floor door and knocked.
A guy my size, wearing glasses answered.
The room had a full drum set, a couple of guitars and an amp.
I had been instructed to bring the album I would like to learn and had brought Jimi Hendrix Axis: Bold As Love.
Al introduced himself and took my album. He put the song on. When it finished he played the song back, note for note.
I lit a cigarette.
As he continued to play and show me his chops I lit cigarette after cigarette...I think I consumed an entire pack.
This guy was amazing and I could not believe what I was seeing and hearing.
For the next year or so I went over to his house every Wednesday at 7 pm for my hour of Al's time...$10.
Sometimes Al was delayed because of rehearsals with his then band, Barry Miles in NYC.
I would sit in Mrs. DiMeola's kitchen, sample the spaghetti sauce and talk, waiting for Al to return.
In 1976 I went to Carnegie Hall to see Al playing with his new gig, Return To Forever. As the show ended my pal and I walked to the backstage entrance to try to get in to see Al and say, "Hi."
The mutual friend who had introduced us was there in line.
"Mike, can you get us in?"
"No can do man, way too heavy."
I was crestfallen and started walking away.
I felt a hand on my wrist and a soft voice,
"Let's go see Al."
It was Mrs. DiMeola. She took me by the hand, up the stairs passed Mike who looked imploringly at me to the backstage area.
"Albert, look who is here to see you!"
I could see a look of,
"Aw ma...AL, AL, not Albert."
But he said nothing except,
"Hey man!"
Al was the fundamental pivot point in my guitar studies. Everything changed after he left NJ for the Jazz world at large.
And here I am 40 years later still feeling his influence.
Thank you, Al.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Life
Given a choice, we can either laugh or cry over every thing we experience.
It is all in how you look at it.
I choose to laugh, live & love.
It is all in how you look at it.
I choose to laugh, live & love.
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