From the Beginning

Rock Stardom coming up!

"You see, it's all clear. You  were  meant  to  be  here"- Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Open Mic and Open Jam. or, is it Open Jamm and Open Mike? The differences, much like my story, have only minor discrepancies to the real narrative. I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw the Facebook post advertising a fun Sunday afternoon at the American Legion hosted by someone named Billy. I messaged him and advised him of my limited skill level. "No problem" he said. "We play all I-IV-V stuff" I looked across my bedroom at the bass gathering dust in a corner and thought of "Louie-Louie", "Wild Thing", "La Bamba" and "Blues in A" being quite the difficult playlist indeed.

 I had experimented with playing music before, never really following through with anything. I really enjoy listening to music and I always liked the sound of the bass guitar. Most of my heroes played bass, so when one came into my hands I decided to keep it around. I have an odd assortment of synths sitting around the house anyhow, so what is one more thing to trip on?

 I decide to take a trip to the sleepy downtown area of Panama City not far from my abode and to try and find the venue. In a building formerly occupied by Coca-Cola, I find the American Legion hall, attached stage area with outdoor seating and park my motorcycle. "Hey man" Billy says. He states that he is former military, and asks if I was a member. I tell him "No". His wife Vicki has me sign a log stating that I was a guest, and asks me if anyone in my family qualified for membership. Again, I answer "No". I proceed to take a seat among the sparse group of very welcoming people and decide to give the house band a listen. They are set up outside, Billy has a complete audio setup, a nice layout and a set of electronic drums.  "You can mess with them if you want" he says.

After a set, I go into the bar and order a beer and decide to try my hand at the pull tabs. I win twenty dollars, but upon contemplation of my military record I decide to buy a round for the 3 people sitting at the bar.

 I then head back outside and am greeted by the house band. Billy aka "Vato" had been playing lead guitar,  Eddie was a bass player/singer, Mark aka "The Animal" was playing drums and Trey aka "The Dude" was singing and playing rhythm on his acoustic guitar adorned with feathers dubbed "The Beater". Billy hands me a bass and says "Your turn". I stumble through the songs, the musicians are calling out the chord changes and I am watching both guitarists fingers for clues to the chords. They played songs such as "Mary Jane's Last Dance", "Pink Houses", and "Can't You See". I had quite a struggle, but they were very patient with me. They also played some songs by The Eagles and Blind Faith that I could not keep up with. They told me it was okay, they were practicing for an upcoming gig performing as their band "Bonedaddy". I learned much later that The Dude did not think I would survive more than a couple of weeks trying to play music by my appearance alone. I guess my checkered Vans, cargo shorts, and t-shirt with Darth Vader surfing left him with the impression that John Bender would have labelled a "neo-maxi zoom dweebie".

 This went on for a few weeks, and a few different musicians with much talent rotated in an out, singers, harmonica players, keyboard players, drummers and different guitarists, until one afternoon when a very drunk patron requested "Hey Joe". I remembered seeing the transcription in an old Bass Player magazine and told Vato I could do it. We nailed it to  the  satisfaction of the requester and he bought us a round of drinks.

As usual, when I arrived home, my wife asked "How did it go?"
"No autographs-please" I answered smugly.
I was in for a long strange trip.

What else could I say?



Stir up that MONKEYDUST!

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