Garage Days
4/18/2005
A friend posted this in a YahooGroup I'm subscribed to, and below is my response. I wanted to share it here because it resonates with me, and it's a strong memory, and some people reading my journal might benefit from knowing a bit more about my passion for music. Because I don't really talk much about it.
My friend:
When I listen to the CDs I can still feel the Bass in my hands, the sweat on my clothes, the microphone, the clammy Nebraska heat and the bitter Nebraska cold. I can still see everyone, standing, playing, jumping up and down, laughing, getting annoyed when others screwed up the take. It is the very picture of bittersweet. God help those who don't have such powerful memories or music in their lives.My Response:
Halle-fecking-Lujah.
I miss my band. I miss my best friend, who disappeared after our band split up nearly a decade ago. I miss him terribly, and there's some bad blood there I'm sure. But the passion and the fury and the intensity of that bass in my hands, the screaming and jiving and long awkward moments in the garage rehearsing, the not-quite-successful studio recording, the few gigs and eventual disappearance of our band from the local circuit. And the seclusion that sets in afterwards. And then the discovery of Computer Music and tools to allow me to take care of all the parts. And the desire to go back to find 'synergy' with others ...
I don't regret a minute of it. And I'd probably do it all again in a heartbeat. I LOVED opening up for the Bullweavils, and NOTA, and playing in basements packed with punk rockers, skinheads, hippies, trendies. The sweat, the heat, the ecstatic wave that hits once the show is over and people are happy enough with it to clap.
Now I just need to figure out how to get THAT on a stage with just me and some hardware. Is it possible, I wonder?
posted by Edward Svengali @ Monday, April 18, 2005,
