I never get tired of these old rocker dudes that can still handle business.
I’m not a virtuoso guitarist or bassist. But I can play. And I play well.
And playing live is a drug.
There’s nothing like making that much noise. I still miss my Gretsch or Telecaster singing, or my Carvin LB70 thumping.
We were playing at mass one day and our singer, an awesome woman with a voice in-between Billy Holiday and Whitney Houston afterword said she was no good. “Ahh..BS” I said “You’ll walk out and some old lady will tell you how great you were. Trust me.”
And right on queue, on the way out an old woman stopped her and told her how beautiful her singing was and how it moved her.
Indeed, I’ve told her myself that after therapy she sang a soulful version of “Forgive Me” that was so moving, I teared up and couldn’t see my music two feet in front of my face. Luckily, I’ve played it so much that my hands took over.
And I love that.
When the Holy Spirit flows into my hands and sings through my instrument.
It has to.
Because I’m not there. I’m drowning in my sorrows and can’t concentrate whatsoever. I have zero idea what I was doing. I couldn’t see my music. But I played anyhow. Because if I realized what I was doing I’d choke.
But it sounded amazing. I’ve played that song with both my bass and guitar.
And it moved those that were there and that’s all that counts.
I miss the back and forth with our piano player. We played magic music. There were no egos. We all played off each other. It was the most amazing experience of my life. Even more so when my son played bass and cello and my daughter sang with us.
But now it’s gone for a number of reasons.
I’ve sold nearly all my gear.
I have one Strat that I built and a Yamaha classical that I’ve had since 8th grade. That’s it.
Sold or gave away all the others.
I could cry.
When it warms up, I’ll build more.
It’s what I do.
And they will sing like the others.
(all that said, I still have my 600W bass head and an 18″ Carvin cabinet. I can still make a fearsome noise when I need to)