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!