The Heart of My Guitar - Part 6: Summer of '74

In 1974, America was still reeling from the racial chaos that had only a few years ago swept throughout the country.  The sixties had changed everything.  Some people were relieved, some were angered, and some were inspired while others were doomed to pessimism.  Whatever the case, everyone was affected.  Throw in the controversy surrounding the Vietnam War and it’s a wonder folks got along at all.  The one good thing that resulted from all that tension was the evolution of some of the best music the world has ever known.

Ask anyone who grew up during that era; music was the most important thing in America (second to rampant indiscriminant sex, and an unrelenting desire to find new ways to get high).  Every genre of music saw a heightened sensitivity directed toward making sense of why so many people could be so severely against the idea of treating each other fairly.  At fourteen years old, I surely didn’t understand it.  All I wanted to do was play music. 

The music of that era seemed to be the only thing that got people to chill out and ignore the craziness of it all. During the riots, James Brown was scheduled to give a live concert in Boston, a city that, at that moment in time, had become a powder keg of racial unrest.  The mayor had arranged with Brown to show a live television broadcast of the concert, knowing that because Brown’s popularity was at such a high point, there would be virtually no chance that anyone would be angry enough to go out rioting and miss the rare opportunity to watch J. B. do his thing for an entire program.  The strategy worked, and some people credit Mr. Brown for “saving Boston” from total mayhem. *

I was still in junior high when my band started playing in clubs and bars.  Somehow, two “managers” had found out about us and had convinced us that we were going to be the next big thing.  I recall being all excited at the fact that they had printed up business cards for us.  One day, while listening to one of the local R&B stations, I heard the deejay advertising that our band would be featured as the live entertainment on Baltimore’s local party ship, “The Port Welcome.” I think we each got paid twenty-five dollars for that gig. Oh yeah, we knew we were stars then. But as is the case with most beginners in the music business, we too, eventually discovered that all is not fair in love and music.

G.

*Ironically, rumor has it that after the concert, Brown had accused the City of Boston of failing to uphold its financial end of the deal regarding the City’s multiple rebroadcasts of the concert, which apparently Brown had explicitly addressed in the original agreement.  Although Brown eventually conceded to a settlement, it has been said that Brown was hurt by the alleged breach, and was forever disillusioned by his belief that the City of Boston had not dealt squarely with him. 

(This is the sixth installment of a continuing story).

Coming soon, Part 7, “Black and Blue”

Blind Genius - Missing Ray Charles (September 23, 1930 – June 10, 2004)

It was a very sad day for me when Ray Charles passed away seven years ago today. 

After you reach a certain age, such events don’t sneak up on you or surprise you anymore.  When you know that you are living during an era that includes the likes of a Ray Charles, you see them getting older, you reflect on the life they lived, and you begin preparing yourself for the fact that someday, we won’t have them amongst us anymore.  I have also found that I will miss certain music artists, like Ray, long after they are gone, almost the same way I miss a relative or close friend.  I feel so blessed to be able to look back over the course of my life and connect so many magical moments to so much beautiful music that I have loved - created by people like Ray Charles.  

His music is so sincere, so pure, and so powerful that you really couldn’t ignore it even if you tried. I mean really, do you actually know anyone with even the slightest amount of musical maturity who would say that they simply don’t like Ray Charles?  And if you do know someone like that, I’ll bet you would find that they probably don’t like chocolate ice cream or little babies, either.

Thanks, Ray.  It was a privilege to have grown up with you.  You provided such a major part of the musical score that has been the backdrop to the story of my life. Right on, Brother Ray.

Check out this once in a lifetime video of Ray Charles performing Living for the City with Stevie Wonder.  People toss the term “musical genius” around way too often.  Watch this video and learn the true meaning.

       Okay, let’s get to the quiz!      

       1)      What is Ray’s original birth name?

       2)      Where was Ray Charles born?

       3)      True or False: Ray Charles was not born blind.  He lost his sight as a young boy.

       4)      Ray performed in what major movie box-office smash that made its debut in 1980?

       5)      True or False: Ray Charles had no formal musical training.

Interesting Facts About Ray Charles –

      

            a)   Ray moved to Seattle in 1947 (where he first met and befriended a 14 year old Quincy Jones  and soon recorded his first hit, "Confession Blues" in 1949. The song soared to #2 on the R&B charts.

b)      After his mother died in 1945, Charles was 15 years old when he was living in Jacksonville, Florida with a couple who were friends of his mother. For over a year, he played the piano for bands at the Ritz Theatre in LaVilla, earning $4 a night.

c)       In 1979, Charles was one of the first of the Georgia State Music Hall of Fame to be recognized as a musician born in the state. Ray's version of "Georgia On My Mind" was made the official state song for Georgia.

d)      In 1981, he was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and was one of the first inductees to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame at its inaugural ceremony in 1986.

QUIZ ANSWERS:

Okay, let’s see how you did!

      1)      Ray Charles Robinson – Early on in his career, he began going by “Ray Charles” so that he would not be confused with Sugar Ray Robinson.

      2)      Ray was born in Albany, Georgia.  However, most of his younger years were spent in Greenville, Florida.

      3)      True.  Ray Charles began losing his sight at age 5. By age 7, he had lost all of his vision due to glaucoma. During those days, there was no treatment for this disease.  Since then, there has been significant progress in slowing its degenerative effects, but there is still no cure for glaucoma, and there has still been no conclusion drawn as to what causes it.

      4)      The Blues Brothers. (If you didn’t get that one then I am banning you from my page for one day).

      5)      False.  As a boy, Ray Charles was trained to play only classical music. He attended school at the Florida School for the Deaf and the Blind in St. Augustine from 1937 to 1945, where he developed his musical talent.

So you got them all right, huh? Congratulations!

(But honestly, don’t get all full of yourself.  This one really wasn’t that hard).

G.

All information gathered courtesy Wikipedia

This Week in Music History

Interesting Happenings in Music History

5/29/1987 - Michael Jackson attempts to buy Elephant Man's remains

5/31/1969 - Stevie Wonder releases "My Cherie Amour"

Stevie wows them again. Watch in wonder.

Birthdays

5/24/1956 - Larry Blackmon, funk-R&B (Cameo-“Word Up!)

5/29/1953 - Danny Elfman, LA Calif, composer (Simspon Show Theme)

5/29/1950 - Rebbie [Maureen] Jackson, Gary Indiana, singer (R U Tuff Enuff)

5/30/1909 - Benny Goodman, Chicago, clarinetist/bandleader (King of Swing)

6/02/1944 - Marvin Hamlisch, NYC, composer/pianist (Sting, Chorus Line)

6/03/1906 - Josephine Baker, dancer/singer/actress, French performer (Moulin Rouge)

6/03/1927 - Boots Randolph, Paducah KY, saxophonist (Yakety Sax)

6/03/1930 - Dakota Staton, [Aliyah Rabia], Pittsburgh, PA - Jazz singer (In the Night)

6/03/1942 - Curtis Mayfield, Chicago, Singer-songwriter/vocalist, guitarist (People Get Ready, Superfly)

May we never forget the contributions of this man. Here, Curtis gets a little help from Taylor Dane and David Sanborn in a clip taken from the now defunct "Sunday Night" jazz program.

6/03/1950 - Deniece Williams, Gary, IN, singer (Let’s Hear It For The Boy)

6/04/1937 - Freddie Fender, San Benito, Texas, country singer (Wasted Days and Wasted Nights)

6/04/1945 - Anthony Braxton, Chicago, Il – Saxophone, avant-garde jazz musician

6/04/1961 - El Debarge, Detroit, Mich, R&B singer (Debarge-All this Love)

Deaths

5/28/1996 - James George "Jimmy" Rowles, jazz pianist, dies at 77

5/30/1993 - Sun Ra, (Herman S Blount), jazz pianist (Solar Arkestra), dies at 79

5/30/1977 - Paul Desmond, US jazz saxophonist, Dave Brubeck Quartet, dies at 52

6/01/1991 - David Ruffin, R7B singer (Temptations), dies of drug overdose at 50

6/01/1996 - Don Grolnick, jazz musician, dies at 48

6/02/1987 - Andres Segovia, Classical guitarist, dies

6/02/1987 - Sammy Kaye, orch leader (Sammy Kaye Show), dies at 77

6/02/1997 - Doc Cheatham, jazz musician, dies at 91

On 6/04/1916 - Mildred J Hill, composer/musician (Happy Birthday To You), dies at 56

Did you know?

·         "Happy Birthday to You" first appeared in print in 1912 using the melody of "Good Morning to All" with different lyrics.^[2] Its popularity continued to grow through the 1930's, with no author identified for the new lyrics, nor credit given for the melody from "Good Morning to You". Based on 1935 copyright registrations by the Summy Company, and a series of court cases (which all settled out of court)^[3], the sisters became known as the authors of "Happy Birthday to You". The Hill Foundation today shares royalties on public performances of the song.

Hill and her sister were posthumously inducted into the Songwriter's Hall of Fame on June 12, 1996.

*(Source – Wikipedia)

The Heart of My Guitar - Part 5: My First Gig

By the time I was fourteen, I had already formed my own band.  It consisted of three members: my friend Freddy, from Jr. High School, played bass.  My cousin Jack, Jr. played drums, and then, of course, there was me, on lead guitar.

In no time flat we had learned three songs.  The first song we learned was “Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple.  It was the first rock song that I had learned how to play, so everyone else just went along.  Then we learned how to play “Get Ready,” as done by Rare Earth, (not the Temptations’ version).  We were feeling out our rock groove at that time.  Also, you didn’t need a lot of other musicians to actually play a real song when you played rock music.  The R&B tunes all seemed to have horns, strings,  keyboards, congas, vocal overdubs – way too many things that we didn’t have.  So, we played rock because it was easier (and because we really liked it).

I couldn’t figure out how to play any more popular songs that would sound okay with just bass and the drums.  We figured we needed to learn at least three songs so that we could play at our first gig.  Oh, I didn’t tell you - Freddy, our bass player, had somehow convinced someone at a neighborhood elementary school that he was in a band and that we would be happy to play at a fundraiser that the school was giving.

I was furious.  Nobody would want to hear a band play just two songs, right?  Of course not, that would be ridiculous – even if we did stretch each song out to last fifteen minutes each, including the ten-minute drum solo by Jack, Jr.  The fact was, we needed one more song.  I had announced that we were not ready to play out in public.  But Freddy and Jack, Jr. convinced me that everything would be fine if we just had one more song.  Those two were not going to let me talk them out of this big opportunity for us to jumpstart our careers.  Besides, we were gonna get paid!  Fifteen dollars wasn’t bad for a first gig, we had concluded.  Heck, that was five bucks apiece, and we would be getting some much needed exposure. The gig was coming up soon and our backs were against the wall, so I did the next best thing in finding us our third song.  I made one up.

I remember introducing my original song to the band. I couldn’t believe they actually liked that kooky thing.  Amazingly, it seemed like other people liked it, too.  Well, I just couldn’t believe it, so I chalked its popularity up to the fact that I was a young kid playing the guitar and that everybody thought it was cute that this youngster had written his own song.  My cousin seemed to like it the most.  It didn’t even have a name.  We just referred to as “the original tune.” I believe that if I asked Jack, Jr. today, he would tell me that he still likes that stupid song.  Unbelievable.

So, my big brother, who by that time had gotten his driver’s license, drove us to our gig at the elementary school.  We unloaded our gear from the back of Dad’s station wagon and set up inside what now seems to me like it might have been the cafeteria, only without all of the tables and chairs.  We played our three songs, saving “the original tune” for last.  A grateful throng of twenty or so little kids  and a handful of parents and teachers applauded as though we might turn out to be the next Jackson Five.  I was shocked.  They loved us! Or did they?  Were they just being polite because we were kids?  I was confused.  To me, we had always sounded like a young-kid-crap-group.  I think it was here, that my chronic perfectionism and live-performance anxiety all began. (More later on that). Nonetheless, it still felt pretty good to hear people clapping for us, even if it was just some little kids and their proud parents.

We collected our gear, received our five-dollar paydays, and proceeded to start planning out our future and how long it would take for us to make it to the big time.  A year, tops was what we had figured – unless we got a big break, that is. If you looked into our starry eyes, you would have seen that it would have only been a matter of months, before we would be on tv.

We soon realized that we needed something more to fill out the sound.   We had decided that we could never get anywhere unless we expanded the band.  We needed another instrument.  Thank God my brother had taken piano lessons when he was younger.  Already, things were falling together.

As my brother drove, Freddy and Jack, Jr. raved about our performance all the way home. We had urged my brother to be our new keyboardist.  By the time we reached the front door, my big brother had joined the band.  We were on our way! Now all we had to do was figure out how to find the money to buy a keyboard - and then hope that we could find some more songs that were easy enough for each of us to play.

G.

(This is the fifth installment of a continuing story).

The Heart of My Guitar - Part 4: Dream Guitar

My father had still been taking me to my guitar lessons with Mr. Hess, and according to him, I was learning at an incredibly rapid pace. In fact, the two of them had decided that I had finally reached the skill level that justified me being able to purchase an electric guitar.  The new ones at the Towson music store where Mr. Hess had taught were still too expensive for my father to afford. So, off we went to Highlandtown to a place on Eastern Avenue called Petro’s Music Store.  I had never been there before but somehow I just knew that there would be a used Fender Stratocaster there, just for me.

We entered the music shop to the sound of cowbells clanging against the back of the door. The place was dingy and dated. Musical instruments of every sort were crammed into every available space. There were no more than three customers inside at any one time during our entire visit.  Saxophones, harmonicas, bongos, tambourines, and banjos - these were just a few of the many instruments that cluttered Petro’s Music Store.  

You name it, Petro’s had it. It was like an indoor, musical flea market. 

We inched our way through the narrow aisles, my father stopping occasionally to marvel at some obscure instrument that neither of us had ever seen.  The elderly storeowner led the way, scooting his cat away from his more prized musical items. Eventually we reached the guitar section of the store.  It was slightly more organized and was a tad roomier.  My eyes sparkled at the sight of all those guitars. I thought to myself, “There’s got to be at least one Strat in here.” Sure enough, there it was - candy-apple red, two-toned sunburst, with maple fretboard, and it came with a hardshell case with the name “Fender” emblazoned across its body for all of my friends to see and envy. A large white paper tag dangled from one of the many knobs on my dream guitar.  In hand-written blue ink, it read:  SPECIAL! $150.00 (case included).

I watched my father take Mr. Petro aside, instructing me to look around and take in all there was to see.  I complied, scanning the many beautiful shapes and sizes of all the guitars. Red ones, black ones, white ones, blue ones – they all captivated me.  At that moment it seemed as though that dingy old store had magically transformed into a musical fantasyland.  It was as if the guitars had all come to life, like the way puppies in a pet shop window perk up when passersby stop and admire them. Each and every model seemed to have its own personality, its own spirit - its own heart.  But even as I took in the beauty and awe of such a collection, all the while I knew that there was only one guitar for me.  It was that candy-apple red, two-toned, sunburst Fender Stratocaster, with the hardshell case included - for one hundred and fifty dollars. When my father and Mr. Petro returned from their little chat, I crossed my fingers and awaited the verdict. After much coaxing by the gentle store owner, and more rationalizing by my father, I accepted the fact that I was not going to walk out of that store with my dream guitar.

  

“Take a look at this one, here,” the old man said.

He placed one spindly leg above the other and climbed onto a rickety step-stool, pulling down a well-used white, solid-body electric guitar. The neck looked like It had been hand-painted black, and there were some areas where the paint had chipped off.  Also, a thin layer of dust had gathered around the tuning keys at the top of the neck. The man peered over the top of his glasses, observing the brand name of the guitar.

“This is a very popular model in Europe, and it plays just as good as any one of those big name guitars you see in here.”

At first I did not believe him. But when he handed the guitar over to me, there was magic in his eyes. His passion was sincere, and there was no mistaking the fact that he loved those instruments. He passed the guitar to me the way a nurse hands over a newborn to its mother. At that moment, I claimed that old guitar to be mine. It bears the name “Hagstrom,” a name which, at the time had never been heard of by any of the musicians in my circle. I am now proud to say that I still own that guitar today, in spite of the occasional snickers and grins that I would get from my youthful friends.

I have since bought other fine guitars, including a Gibson Les Paul Standard, and a Takamine, classical electric, (currently my favorite). Although I now have the good fortune to afford a Fender Stratocaster, I have never purchased my dream guitar. I don’t know exactly why that dream has faded. Even more perplexing to me is the fact that I have not played my old Hagstrom in at least thirty years. But I do know this much - if my father were alive today, I would play that old guitar, and play it strong and proud – and I would play it just for him, and no one else.  That much, I do know.

G.

(This is the fourth installment of a continuing story).

Stevie Wonder - Birth of a Legend

Stevie Wonder is 61 years old today.  I am so grateful to be living during the time that he has been able to bless the world with his incredible talent.  He is quite simply a tremendous gift from God to us all. It is impossible to measure what his contribution to music has been, and continues to be. How does one even begin?  We all have a special Stevie Wonder place in our musical hearts, so I will simply allow each of you to reflect on what his music has meant to you individually.  I mean, really, what else can you do?

Anyway, check out this performance of Stevie playing what I believe is my favorite song (at this particular moment) by Stevie.  I say "at this particular moment" because if I wait another five minutes, I will recall a different favorite song, and then if I were to wait another five minutes, I will recall another favorite song, and so on.  That could literally go on for hours. Yeah, really! You try thinking of what your favorite Stevie Wonder song is and see what I mean!

    

And now, on with the quiz! No cheating! If you really know your Stevie, you should do pretty well on this without having to peek at the answere.  Good Luck!

1)         What is Stevie Wonder’s full birth name?

2)         Where was Stevie Wonder born?

3)         What is the name of Stevie Wonder’s first major hit?

Extra Credit:  How old was he when the song was recorded?

4)         This popular song is the only hit that Stevie made to ever reach number one on each of the following charts: The Billboard Hot 100, Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs, Adult Contemporary Music, and The UK Singles Chart. Name that tune.

            Hint: The answer is not “Superstition.”

5)         “Superstition” and “You are the Sunshine of My Life” were two number one hits that were released from the same album.  Name it.

            a) Talking Book

b) Innervisions

c) Songs in the Key of Life

Answers to the Trivia Quiz:

Okay, let's see how you did!


Ready?

1)        Stevie Wonder was born in Saginaw, Michigan

2)        Stevland Hardaway Judkins.  His name was later changed to Stevland Hardaway Morris, which is his legal name to this day.

3)        Wonder was 13 when the hit "Fingertips (Pt. 2)",  was released in 1963.  It was taken from the live album called Recorded Live: The 12 Year Old Genius.  Wonder played, bongos, and harmonica, while a young Marvin Gaye played drums.

4)        I Just Called to Say I Love You

5)       The answer is a), Talking Book. .  "Superstition" and "You Are the Sunshine of My Life," were both number one hits from this album which also features Jeff Beck, David Sanborn, and Ray Parker, Jr.

            Did you get’em all right? If so, congratulations!

The Heart of My Guitar - Part 3: Sunshine

The first song I learned to play on the guitar was “Sunshine,” by Jonathan Edwards.  It wasn’t exactly my idea of the kind of song that I had thought might make me the popular guy in school. I had hoped to learn something by George Benson, or Jimi Hendrix, or even something that was at least on the R&B charts.  My instructor, Mr. Hess had promised me that “Sunshine” was a big hit, and that learning to sing and play it (simultaneously) would be an invaluable skill for me down the road.  I had never once heard the blessed song on the radio, and I simply didn’t believe him.  But even though it was a song that I didn’t want to play, and surely did not want to sing, I had to admit that I was proud of the fact that after only one lesson, I could actually play it.  

One day, on the way home from my lesson, my father pushed one of the buttons on the car radio that had been preset to one of the local white stations, as he would sometimes do.  I had always liked the fact that he appreciated all kinds of music. Whether the artist was black or white never mattered to him.  He liked music that entertained him.  He loved the richness in Johnny Cash’s voice as he sang “A Boy Named Sue,” just as much as he loved the soul-stirring elegance of Dinah Washington’s “September in the Rain.” My father would enjoy any music in which the artist displayed quality and sincerity.  So when the familiar open-chord strumming of Jonathan Edwards’ “Sunshine” came through the single radio speaker on the dashboard of the station wagon, I was not surprised to see Dad happily tapping his fingers on the top of the stirring wheel as we cruised down York Road.

“Sunshine go away today, I don’t feel much like dancing … “

I visualized the fingering positions of the chords to the song that Mr. Hess had taught me.  After a silent debate with myself, I waited for the tune to end, and drew a deep breath and exhaled.

“I can play that song,” I muttered.

Just as I had figured, my father couldn’t wait to get me home and hear me play it. I, on the other hand, was not so anxious. This is because I had already evaluated the extent of my father’s musical capabilities, and I knew that the song would be unrecognizable to him unless I provided the melody and lyrics.  For me, singing out loud was, still is, and probably always will be a frightening proposition for me. My siblings would have had no mercy on me if they were to have ever heard me singing that song. But I wanted desperately for him to see that I could play it.

When we arrived at the house, I sheepishly retrieved my guitar from a closet in my room and took it out of the cardboard case.

“Okay, son.  Let’s hear what you got!”

Again, I took a deep breath.  My palms were suddenly cold and clammy. I ignored this and began to strum.  Three minutes later, I had finished playing the song in its entirety, having never uttered a single word of the lyrics. My father’s response was lukewarm.

“You’re getting pretty good there, kid. You need to sing along, though …”

To this day, I am still too shy to sing. It would not be until about thirty years later that I would realize and understand that my fear of singing had turned out to be the primary reason that I adopted the “finger-style” method of playing that I currently employ.  Instead of using a pick, I now use all of the fingers on my right hand to play, giving me the ability to simultaneously strum the chords, finger the melody, while thumbing the bass line to many classic songs that are conducive to this particular style of guitar playing.  I am by no means a master at this technique, but it brings me joy in knowing that I have achieved a respectable level of skill at it. Funny how life can bring you something good even when you think you’ve failed.  Guess it’s all in how you look at it.

G.
(This is the third installment of a continuing story.