Prairie Dust, chapter 6
An Ocean, A World, A Universe (MUSIC, part 3)
The French Horn Fades…
I wanted to play the trumpet, or drums. My parents somehow decided on the french horn, an awkward-looking tubular maze of pieces and parts, an impossibly small mouthpiece, and the macho appeal of a Barbie Doll. Yes, zero or less.
Worse, I had to stuff my right hand in the big bell.
Only one other poor soul in our fledgling band was relegated to the french horn- but thank God, he was a cool upper-classman, Tim. For some unfathomable reason he took seriously his french horn duties, practiced, and worked at his craft.
Plus, he was funny and irreverent.
Marching Band
OK, I’m sure many people absolutely love watching, or playing in, a marching band. Me, not so much.
The uniforms? Yuck. Hot. Weird. Goofy big, puffy hat.
March with a french horn? Good luck with that. Nope, I had to switch to a sort of mini-baritone, called an Eb Alto Horn.
Marching? In all kinds of weather? Keeping a line straight and proportionally near/far related to other lines? Marching in cadence, and then actually playing a song? Making smart right and left turns? Rehearsing up and down, up and down the street?
Ugh.
Enter the Guitar…
…and the french horn started to fade.
But not right away.
Dad and I got home from the music store, me clutching the guitar in its case, dad holding the music stand and a book with 101 Songs You Can Play (with only three chords).
I eagerly got out the guitar and started to strum. OUCH! (Who knew it hurts to start playing the guitar?! Those finger tips? The delicate parts that push down the strings to the fretboard to make those chords and sounds? OUCH!)
I almost gave up before I really started. Again, dad surprised me.
He sat me down. We opened up the book, figured out how to tune the guitar, painstakingly plunked out a few chords. He reassured me, “Your fingers will get used to this.”
Watch a good guitarist sometime- looks easy, right?
Nope!
My buddy Kelvin- above class picture, third row from the bottom, third one from the right- already knew some guitar stuff. We went over simple songs, repeated them, tried again. After some huffing and puffing, I started getting used to changing from G to C chords, then to D. Even sometimes in tempo!
The Beatles
One day, me, the nerdy guy with new embarrassing glasses (not the cool heavy black frames) happened by some of the cute, popular eighth grade girls listening to what sounded like music I’d never heard before.
Summoning ALL my very fragile bravado, I ventured up to them asking, “Who’s that??”
Looking a bit scornfully at the ignoramus disturbing their worshipful attention, one of them finally said, “The Beatles!” (Mercifully, she didn’t add, “DUH!”).
And yet a new horizon began to open up musically to my awe-stricken ears.
Oh man! I couldn’t get enough!
And the french horn was sent back to the band room, so the next poor geek could get ensnared and humbled.
Practicing?!
Obviously, this was all before the magic of the intertubes, YouTube, FB, even before MySpace!
I’d feverishly try to figure out the songs and hope like crazy KLEO or WLS (which sometimes in the evening I could get out of Chicago) would play the song. Or maybe a buddy would have bought the 45.
Yes, I practiced. As often as I could.
Lightning Strike!
One of the things I took for granted as an FK (Faculty Kid) was my easy access to college facilities at Hesston College- the rec room with its pool table and ping-pong tables. Pianos and piano studios where I could sit and play for hours without being bothered. Gyms with trampolines and basketballs and hoops…
…But I digress.
One morning I walked into the large Erb Hall recreation room, where a scroungy trio of students was set up with electric guitar, bass, and a drummer, wailing away on some rockin’ tunes.
OR “Louie, Louie” or “Little Latin Lupe Lou”.
I was mesmerized!
Something about the energy, the rawness, the absolute joy radiated through me. It was maybe the first time I realized, “This is me! This is where I fit!" Maybe out there in the school hallways or in town I was the geek, the nerd, the nobody- but here, I could strap on the guitar, plug into the amp, and rock out.
Only one problem.
I needed an electric guitar, an amplifier and cable, and some dudes to jam with!
Enough with the french horn, horrible uniforms and goofy hats, and marching in cadence.
I wanted, NEEDED, to rock!
More later. For now, I’m Mose Lee Gropin’, AKA Steve Conrad.