…And a time for every purpose under heaven. When I decided to start playing the guitar again (or should I say “attempt to start playing the guitar again”), I had been entirely out of touch with the music world for years. Let me restate that a little differently. I had not been playing, practicing or in any other manner keeping a skill set alive. My love of music has never wavered over the years. To this date, I have somewhere in the neighborhood of 900 or so albums of music on good old vinyl LP records and another 300 or so on reel-to-reel tape. Now a lot of people have collections larger than this, but I have dragged this entire collection from its starting point in Illinois around 1963, to both coasts of the U.S. and quite a few states in-between. Instead of lightening the load over the years, I’ve kept adding on as I find new caches of material. But I digress…
It’s a great way to win friends and influence people, isn’t it?
Yeah, we moved the weblog from webmoron.net. After putting up the original blog, I found out the domain name OFWG.NET was available. Surprisingly, OFWG.COM wasn’t available and whoever owns it wants a boatload of cash for it. So rather than wait until I had two or three people regularly showing up to read my clever musings (not) I thought it might be wise to grab the new domain name and move everything while it was still a simple process. Hence the move!
As my kids were growing up, I always used to tell them that after they left home, I was going to start playing the guitar again and find myself some other like minded individuals of about the same age, start a band and call it Old Farts With Guitars. As of right now, it’s just me and it will probably stay that way for a very long time, unless I can get good enough again that I’m willing to embarrass myself in front of some real musicians who happen to be local. So for the moment, it will probably only be one Old Fart With Guitars.
So Arin and Nate and my loving wife Maurette, the family inside joke is being shared with the world… or at least the three people who will eventually find this blog.
May your strings stay in tune and your chords ring true!
Good grief Charley Brown! I’m actually doing this again! It seems like only yesterday I was spending three hours a day, four to five days a week locked up in a Sunday school room at an old church with 3 other guys and various hangers on. Practice, every night we could all manage to get together was the rule of the day. That wasn’t always easy, because Ken, our lead singer lived in Boulder. Monty, our lead guitarist worked at the RC Cola factory. I’m not sure if Steve, our drummer had a job or not yet, as he was the youngest in the band at 19. Among the usuals was Joe T. who was always willing to man the tape recorder and try and mix our miserable PA system. Steve’s younger brother Scott would show up every now and then to tell us how awful we were. And there were always a few people who managed to drop by to bum a cigarette or a beer off of us. They said they came to hear us, but I think a Marlboro and a Coors ranked higher than we did.
The church had been the old First Christian Church in town. After they built a new one on the south end of town, this one, smack in the middle of town on College Avenue didn’t suit their purposes any more. So some smart management company had taken it over and the second floor was full of various rock stars in the making, a couple of improv comedy troupes, a marionnette puppet group and one or two old farts who rented the rooms to use as photo darkrooms. The old main sanctuary was used by a local theatre group who never seemed to be there. All this was just across the alley from an old three story house on Remington street. Three floors of little crummy apartments that the college students in town were oh so happy to have for next to nothing. Unfortunately, that house had a couple of cranks living in it, so we always had to have our practice done before 10PM or suffer the wrath of the local cops. Back then they didn’t need a complaint. If they drove by the church after about 9:30 and heard ANYONE, they came in and shut us all down. I think it was just an excuse to see if any of us had any weed. With half a dozen bands and an unknown number of teenies and twenty-somethings just hanging out there was always some excitement.
Anyhow, that was then and this is now. I’m 57 years old and starting over. I picked up a guitar course online (more on that later), hoping against hope that the 37 years without a decent guitar and absolutely no practice time, I could magically make a Fender Telecaster sound like it did when I was 19. The reality is that right now it sounds more like when I was 12… Or maybe this IS what I sounded like at 19!
Bring it on!