More music, more music, more music...

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.


Life & Such

After the realization, the denouement as it were of my musical pipe dreams, I didn't play much. It's like one of those movie montages where one item, or person, sits perfectly still while everything else around them goes by at super speed. The guitar just sat there, waiting. I worked, tried going back to school as a journalism major, crapped out on that in less than a semester. We moved to Hawaii, where I used a simple cassette recorder to put down a tune I'd been working on for my boy PJ. I started working on it while he was still in utero, and this is the only recording:

The Secret of Life (For PJ)

Also my only instrumental. I was often sad living in that paradise, and occasionally I'd pull out the old Guild and strum So In Love. Why were these words still so relevant to me? I was married and happy, happily married, happy, right? No. There were things happening that I was too blind, dumb, whatever...to see.

I was at a party one night there in Hawaii and one of the guys kind of took me under his wing. I got to go out to the garage with the other "brahs", smoke some fine pakalolo and play a cool Taylor guitar he had. Everyone thought I was great! I was reminded of that feeling the first time I performed in 7th grade.

Mainland Bound

All the things that led to my separation and divorce are laid out in sordid detail in earlier chapters. Now I was back in SoCal with nothing to my name but my car, my bike, some clothes and the Guild. It was a present from my folks Christmas 1975, and I still have it. A luthier friend of mine once said: "That's the cool thing about classical guitars. The older they get, the better they sound, all mellow and shit." True that.

I played a lot during my exile, but I didn't write songs. I wrote a ton of poetry, along with some long letters to my soon-to-be ex. Still that guitar was a life saver. It has nicks and scratches all over it from my performing days at Shakey's Pizza Parlor, along with newer ones from the kids climbing on it and playing it. An old friend sitting there, always waiting.

When I first got to California I had a Yamaha steel 6-string, but it was stolen not long after I moved there. Never had a strong attachment to it, though I hope it found a good home.




Fast Forward

After I got back to Northern California I was so busy putting my life back together I just let the Guild sit quietly again. But after I bought her a companion, an Epiphone FG160-ASB. Great sound, solid axe. Now I could start building those callouses again! Still no performing, though.

I got a job working at a custom photo lab and shortly thereafter met a fellow named Michael G., who had a nice home studio and lots of musical friends. I started going over to his place from time to time, recording tunes like:

Dream Zone, written by a friend of mine.

I kept going over to his house, playing on my own with occasional guest musicians, and then Michael started joining in, playing seafaring tunes and ballads. Over the years we played more and more often. I wrote more songs, he introduced songs he liked, we got toasted and had fun playing. Other folks would come over, joining in or listening and singing along. We performed at the Freight & Salvage in Berkeley on open mic night. We played at a couple of parties. The toughest thing was this: Michael just wasn't, isn't that good. he's a passable musician but put him in front of people and all the rehearsal in the world can't cure his flop-sweat.

We fought about the material. He got to be a prick. I was frustrated by our inertia. He thought we were going to be a touring band! Pipe Dreams, indeed! One night he basically told me off in front of a mutual friend and I walked out. Called him a couple of days later and basically broke up with him. Strangest phone call ever. Breaking up with a dude is not what I had in mind. We didn't speak for over a year, until February of 2009, when we got together for a jam with some other guys. Since then we've jammed a couple of times but nothing like before. Nothing like the fun we had doing this one:

It's Normal to Smoke Pot, about my views on the state of the Federal Reserve. I think. Or not.

Yes, it's rough, oh so rough. But we had a great time making it, as far as I can remember.

Misc Music

I was lucky enough to hook up with some bluegrass players as well, and every year I go to the annual Pickin' Party, where my inner redneck gets a chance to strum some traditional 'grass tunes.

Christmas 2000, our first year in the new house, my lovely wife Jan got me a Martin DM-12, a magnificent 12-string guitar. I thanked her by polishing up a tune I'd written for her:

Faith in Me, a song that came to me and refused to be ignored.

Here are my two steel beasties:

I was on a jury in a capital murder case. Strong shit there. After I finished the ordeal another song came to the surface:

A City of Light, written about Charles Stevens, the I-580 Freeway Killer

Jan and I sing together. She plays the piano and sings in local choruses. My four kids are all musicians or performers in their own right. Life is good. And I will play on....

C	F	C
	One toke over the line, sweet Jesus,	one toke over the	line

	C/B	Am	D9	F	G	C
Sittin' down	town in a	railway	station,	one toke	over the	line

	C
	Waitin' for the train that goes home, sweet Mary

	F	C
	Hoping that the train is on	time

	C/B	Am	D9	F	G	C
Sittin' down	town in a	railway	station,	one toke	over the	line