So last night, in keeping with the journey through my past I seem to have undertaken lately (see the blog below about sorting, purging, and sneezing, etc.), I joined the singer for my first band and a few other guys, some I've known for years, others new to me (one of whom, in a pretty darn funny isn't-it-a-small world coincidence, is the son of my Junior High School Social Studies teacher), in a loud, messy, occasionally inspired, often hilarious (intentionally and otherwise) jam session on the mezzanine of a giant bicycle parts warehouse situated in an industrial part of the East Bay, near where I grew up. Now, if you've ever been in a band, I should tell you this is absolutely the dream rehearsal space. My second band rehearsed in a little honeycomb of mildewy spaces carved out of a decaying building which was apparently once the "Turko Persian Rug Factory" (if you went by the giant chipped and fading painted letters on the outside of the building). It was in the foggiest, foggiest part of San Francisco (and that's saying something), and we had to haul our heavy equipment up and down fetid cement steps, listen to bleed-through from the metal band in the space next to ours, and pay something like—$150? $300?— a month for the privilege. My amp smelled like the Turko Persian Rug Factory for years thereafter.
So to get to the bicycle warehouse mezzanine you had to go up a long ladder flush with the wall—seriously, about as perpendicular as any ladder can get—but I was equal to the challenge as Josh gallantly hauled my guitar up. It's a wonderland up there—cords and equipment everywhere. And there was like this laundry cart full of guitars. I mean—fabulous guitars. The world's best toybox for grownups. It took me back to music day in kindergarten, when we were allowed to poke through a box filled with triangles, sticks and blocks, jingle bells and tambourines. Picking one out always gave me a little thrill. LOL. I brought my '63 Epiphone Melody Maker with me, but I played one of Josh's guitars, a Gibson SG (see the guitar up in the left corner), perhaps most commonly known as the guitar preferred by Angus Young of AC/DC fame. :) And though I was tempted, no, I did not roll about on the carpet, bob my head frantically, or kick my legs about, a la Angus. I rocked with relative dignity. My preferred guitar sound is usually pretty clean and jangly—but last night, I confess, was primarily about crunch. Noise can be delicious.
I'm pretty bloody sedate these days. In fact, disappointing as this may seem, though I've had a lot of fun in my day, I've never been truly wild, band life notwithstanding. I mean someone had to be sober and organized to herd the hairy boys to the gigs, and that was usually me. Plus I usually had some sort of intense corporate-esque job. Last night, overcome by the heady rock n' roll atmosphere, I drank two whole Miller Lites, which constitutes debauchery for me—I'm all about the Green Tea and Earl Grey. Today I actually have kind of a hangover, for which I've been soundly mocked by Josh Morgon, my singer/friend.
Speaking of Josh: entertaining runs in Josh's family, for sure. His uncle Tim Morgon (yep, Morgon is spelled with an "o" in their case) was a famous folk singer in his day—people like Steve Martin, David Letterman and Lily Tomlin opened for him at Southern California clubs back in the day. Now, Steve Martin is on my (confusingly eclectic, or so I've been accused) hot guys list—he's handome, hilarious, cerebral, multi-talented and a wee bit tweaked in a pleasant and elegant way. And in Steve Martin's new book, Born Standing Up, he talks about his early days as a performer and mentions opening for a "charismatic, sandal-clad folk singer named Tim Morgon who was so popular that for several months in Southern California his record outsold The Beatles A Hard Day’s Night.” He's got a lovely voice—if you check out that link, you can hear a little of his music.
And Josh's cousin is the hunky Ted McGinley. If you've ever watched TV in your life, he's kind of hard to miss. You've doubtless seen him on something—Happy Days, Married with Children, The West Wing, Hope & Faith, etc.
Pretty interesting, eh? Says something about genetics. Or something. Josh is a great singer, and his bro Eric is, too, and both are good musicians. Well, we're all decent musicians...in the loosest sense of the word. :)
I'm not about to hit the road and play music with any regularity again, or anything. I rather love my writing career, particularly the sitting, writing and drinking tea part of it. But playing music is undeniably fun, and guitars are gorgeous (and they smell good! Did you know guitars have a smell?? As do the men who play them. Ha!) and we're thinking we might record some stuff en masse, and Josh might videotape us. If we do, and it's not too humiliating, I'll post it here and on MySpace, etc. I'm into spreading the joy. Stay tuned! (<---ha! musician pun!). And now it's back to writing The Dangers of Desire. I'm just about to lead my hero and heroine into temptation...and that's some serious fun.
