Buckle up, Buster...It's Story Time!

Back in my old man's band days.

Alright now, gather 'round, everybody. Don't be shy...nice and close. Now that we're all settled, I think I might as well start where it all began for me. No, really. We're going way back, folks.

On the day I was born, my dad's band practice was cut short on account of my mom going into labour. I'd like to note that this was the only time in my life where I didn't show up fashionably late. I think that my pending eviction notice inspired me to embrace music in order to find a sense of belonging post-womb. Reflective baby logic.

"Lock up, boys," was the last thing my dad said to the guys before frantically heading out the door.

From that day on, there was never a shortage of music in our house. Dad played bass and was a huge fan of The Eagles. Subsequently, I became a huge fan of The Eagles. I'm almost positive that I actually cut my first teeth listening to One of These Nights. Never mind how I was conceived.

By the time I reached toddlerhood, my parents had already begun quizzing my ear when they listened to music. To this day, I can accurately identify even the most far out Pink Floyd tracks in two seconds flat. The soundtrack to my life was never anything short of stellar, and I really owe it to my folks for always having such great taste.

When I got a little older, I would rifle through my dad’s record collection, trying to familiarize myself with the album artwork. Still vivid in my mind is the cover art for The Edgar Winter Group’s They Only Come Out at Night. The visionary who decided to dress an albino man in drag should be held morally responsible for the nightmares of countless young music fans, myself included. That said, after getting over my personal hang-ups with the artwork, I still consider the first time hearing Frankenstein to be part of my formative musical development.

Speaking of influential moments that whet my musical appetite…Bob Seger. In a broad sense, and more specifically, his song Rosalie from the studio album Back in ’72. I’ve since familiarized myself with former Big 8 music director, Rosalie Trombley, but initially, I totally envisioned myself as a Rosalie.

She makes her choices, and then you best be smilin' when it's choosin' time.

Even today, these lyrics resonate on an almost spiritual level when I get behind the jukebox at my local dive bar.

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, turn on Strange Days; the next bit is a little heady.

I could undoubtedly list off thousands of things that I love about music, but it still wouldn’t fully express how I feel. I could tell you all of my favourite songs, but it still wouldn’t convey my utter slavery to the vocal stylings of Robert Plant. I could try to explain the feeling I get when I hear a beautifully written song, but it wouldn’t hold a candle to the poetry of Bob Dylan’s words. I could talk to you about musical finesse, but it wouldn’t sufficiently describe the chills that run down my back when Mark Knopfler plays the triplet sequence in Sultans of Swing.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, ‘I dig music.’ If you also dig music, you’re in luck because that’s exactly what I’ll be writing about.

Until next time, stay groovy.
-A