It’s hard to narrow down just one song that’s changed my life. As a musician, I’ve been heavily influenced by a broad variety of artists and styles. There are quite a number of different, completely unrelated songs that, at one point in my life or another, made me say something like “Wow! You can do that with music?!”
On my mind today is a particular folk ballad.
As many of you already know, my music selection as a kid was limited to the following:
- Church Choir Music
- Classical Music
Secular music—whatever the hell that actually means—was not allowed. And certainly not rock music. Because rock music is “from the devil.”
On one fine day of my teenage years, my cousin came to me and excitedly told me about a song they had been studying in music class called Scarborough Fair.
“Have you ever heard it?”
Of course I hadn’t. Luckily, he had a CD with him and played it for me. It was beautiful. I was so enthralled by the harmonies. I had never heard anything like that before.
We spent all day—and most of the next—arranging the song as a classical guitar duet. We wove the melodies into chordal accompaniments and traded off lead voicings, mimicking the point and counterpoint of Simon & Garfunkel’s recording.
We were pretty proud of our work.
Unaware that I was apparently doing something wrong, we went to play our rendition for my family.
Chaos ensued.
The conversation went like this:
“That’s rock music!”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a folk song based on an old Scottish ballad…”
(rinse and repeat ad nauseum)
I’ll point out again that our arrangement was for classical guitar, both as the instrument and style. There were no elements of rock music present whatsoever. It was merely the mention of Simon & Garfunkel that caused the eruption. To be completely honest with you, and because I apparently lived under a rock of isolation, I had never heard of them prior to that experience, but my parents definitely knew who they were—and they were apparently on the list of “banned audio.”
I didn’t get in trouble, per se, but I did get yelled at.
I was so livid that people had entirely missed the point of our beautiful music and tried to claim it had some sort of sinister roots. That was a turning point for me, I think. How could anyone call what I played evil? And for that matter, how could any melody be morally wrong?
“You want me to play classical music? I’ll show you classical music.”
I spent the next couple of years taking songs from some of the greatest classical composers—Bach, Pachelbel, Beethoven, whatever I could find—and arranging them in the most intentionally “rock and roll” way possible. Drums, bass, and screaming lead guitars.
And you know what? Surprisingly, no one said a thing.
What can I say? I’m a rebel.
Good morning and happy Monday, friends!
If you’re visiting Florida for some reason this weekend, I hope you brought your rain boots with you. It’s been raining pretty much nonstop since last week. All of our drains, swales, and canals are full, causing many of the roads to flood. I drove through several places where the water level was above the height of sidewalks. And I’m assuming it’s been way worse in other areas due to the number of “IMMINENT DANGER: FLASH FLOOD” emergency alerts we received last night.
Suffice it to say, getting around this morning has been fun!
You see, in other parts of the country, they have Seasonal Affective Disorder. As a former Virginian, I can attest to the fact that winter days eventually lead to funky emotions. But in Florida, we don’t worry about that… we have sunshine all year round.
What we do worry about is Rain Dementia: a prompt decline in logic and reasoning due to water falling from the sky. (Note: this occurs with any amount of water)
Oh man, it just hit me that the majority of this update is going to be a bummer… because now I must segue into…
Celebrity deaths don’t usually bother me very much. Last week, Selene and I were sitting on the couch and she mentioned how Walter Koenig, who played Pavel Chekov in Star Trek: The Original Series, had just died. She said something like, “Babe, all your heroes are getting up there in age…”
I told her it was fine—that my heroes were not the crew from The Original Series. I grew up on The Next Generation. My true hero was Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
“And Picard,” I said, “will never die.”
So the very next day, Patrick Stewart died, and ever since then I’ve been extremely careful about using the word “never.”
RIP
Halloween was also fairly lame. We dropped kids off in a neighborhood somewhere so they could go trick or treat. In the meantime, Selene and I popped off to go find a restaurant. There weren’t a lot of options nearby, but we decided to try a new Peruvian place. It had fairly high reviews.
Before we were seated, we were told by the chef/owner/waiter that they were having an event later, so we could sit and eat if we wanted, but “might be asked to leave if it gets busy.” I guess that should have been our cue to leave, but we were pretty short on time.
By the time we left—and I had to flag someone down so we could pay—they only had 8 tables seated. But with the chaos created by staff running back and forth everywhere, you would have thought it was 80! We were pretty much abandoned after they set our food down… and, puzzling enough, the dude never managed to get us waters or the drink I ordered. Well, thank you, 561Ceviche, for the mediocre food and terrible service.
I have a very long list of restaurant recommendations. I do not have a “restaurants to avoid list,” but I might start one now.
Alright, that was enough complaining. Here’s a palate cleanser.
I also made a Brigid’s Cross at some point last week. You know… the pattern in the center is just so hypnotic.
That’s all. If you’re wondering where I’ve been recently, the answer is: at the dining room table. I only have two more days left to finish reviewing the copyedits for my book.
And now, I’ll be returning to it.
Oh, and it’s raining again.
That’s all for now, friends. Stay tuned for more soon!
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