Guitar Dreams

As we gathered before our flickering living room TV, our collective anticipation was palpable. Ed Sullivan strode forth onto the small black-and-white screen and theatrically swept his right arm toward the stage as he loudly announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles!” We were among 74 million other viewers, the largest in TV history, who had tuned in to see them, the four lads from Liverpool who would change everything. We had all heard of them, but until that night on February 9, 1964, we had not actually seen or heard them perform live and did not know what to expect. We sat in rapt attention as the identically dressed young men launched into their first song, "All My Lovin."  They kept right on going with “Till There Was You,” “She Loves You,” “I Saw Her Standing There,” and finally, “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” As the girls in the audience clapped and screamed hysterically, we sat back, stunned in the moment. Unbeknownst to us, the British invasion had just begun.

It seemed only a few days later that my younger brother had gathered three friends to form their own four-piece rock and roll band. Bluegrass, country, and the Everly Brothers were suddenly history. A high school friend of mine, already skilled on the guitar, ended up teaching them how to play songs. Rupert, the drummer, started with a rudimentary drum kit. My brother, John, acquired a cherry red solid-body Gibson SG, while David and Johnny each bought black single-pickup Silvertone 1448 guitars, entry-level instruments that nonetheless sounded incredible. No doubt inspired by the Dave Clark Five, my mother sewed four matching red wool jackets that they wore with black peg pants and men’s stiletto shoes. They named their band the ‘Chandels,’ a mashup of names, concocted from the Chantays, a California surf rock band, and the Rondels, a rock group from the suburbs of Boston.

It was not long before the ‘Chandels’ upgraded to a serious set of Ludwig drums and the latest Fender guitars. Johnny got a Fender Jazz bass, and David and John bought Fender Jaguars. After all, Carl Wilson of the Beach Boys played a Jaguar. As their musicianship improved, they moved beyond high school venues to the Cinnamon Cinder, a local alcohol-free teen dance club and rock-and-roll venue where the music was always loud and driving. It was 'the place' for all the high school kids in and around Anchorage. The dance floor was always crowded, as we gyrated into a floating, mesmerizing sea of music, all lost in those magic moments of youth. We loved it, and even now I remember it well.

Mom sewed matching plaid tunics for the group when they all switched out from Fenders to Rickenbacker guitars. It seemed a more righteous choice of instruments for bands that wanted to emulate the British sound. So they thought. Their haircuts now paid tribute to the Beatles' mop tops, even though they were four young lads from Alaska. 

Their musical portfolio was now growing at a prodigious rate, and so, Dad became their unofficial manager. But only part-time, as he still had a full-time career that he was not leaving. Nonetheless, he took the band seriously both in promoting them and seeking potential recording opportunities.

As Tom Petty sings in “Into the Great Wide Open,” “The sky was the limit. The future was wide open.” They were young and brash and got a bit carried away with their success.  Rebels without a clue, they did not know, but it would not last. 

I only heard about it later. It arose from an onstage dispute between my brother, the rhythm guitarist, and David, the lead guitarist, who had launched into an over-the-top solo with out-of-control volume. A contentious fight ensued. And, David angrily stormed off the stage. That was the end. They never played together again. It seemed so senseless to squander what they had achieved. Chalk it up to the impulsiveness of youth. Even as a bystander, I was saddened to hear of it. I was not alone.

My younger brother, still in high school, now addicted to a rocking lifestyle, frequently snuck out late on weekday nights, and played electric bass in another band, at bawdy clubs, rocking the place, with a gin and tonic sitting on his amp as Miss Wiggles sashayed across the stage, coyly removing her apparel. He thought he was hot stuff. “The sky was the limit.” Of course, his grades plummeted as his incorrigible behavior continued. Our parents finally put a stop to the whole enterprise by shipping him off to a regimented prep school in Tennessee. There were no rock bands at Columbia Military Academy. Years passed, as did his early guitar dreams.

While in their heyday, I had been a bit jealous of my brother’s guitar success and wanted to try my hand at the electric guitar. Still in high school and living at home, my mother held sway. She mandated that I should get a flamenco guitar, take a different path, and not compete with my brother. I complied, but felt marooned in a distant place with little to inspire me. I knew of no flamenco guitar heroes. That would come later. 

I left my beautiful flamenco guitar behind during my college years, which created a long gap in my playing. I still have it, a rare spruce top Gibson F-2 Flamenco with cypress sides and back. A fine instrument, crafted in Gibson’s Kalamazoo, Michigan factory, with a short run between only 1963 and 1968. It was the only flamenco-style guitar that Gibson ever made. Will I yet become adept at playing Malaguena? As Alexander Pope once said, "Hope springs eternal."

After a long business career, I finally picked up the guitar again. I bought a nice ‘97 Gibson Les Paul DC Studio on my 50^th birthday and began taking lessons. I figured if I kept at it, I could get good. I thought, yeah, I can master this instrument. But after a few years of spare-time practice, the pressures of long hours in a management role put a damper on my aspiring efforts. Practice faded away. Precious seasons passed, lost in time, as silent wisps in the wind.

Now, so many years later, what feels like an eon, I have returned to the guitar due to the unconscious efforts of my youngest son, Bryce. On a recent visit, he sat in our living room, pulled out his acoustic guitar, and began fingerpicking a song as his wife sat by and our grandson ran circles around the room. Bryce seemed so centered and at peace in those moments. I admired his composed presence and the magic of the sounds that surrounded us all. Then he surprised me by encouraging me to join him. I pulled out my old Taylor acoustic, and he coached me on the picking pattern. His unspoken suggestion and gift to me that day was that I should rejoin the quest.

A powerful message lovingly communicated can often reawaken a passion long neglected and propel one forward with recommitted action. Moved by the feelings in those moments, I took up the daunting gauntlet. So, I silently thank him every day when I pick up one of my old guitars and sally forth. While I may only be an old Don Quixote of the guitar, I am not without determined purpose, now adding guitar practice to my other creative disciplines, writing, photography, sketching, and watercolors. The art of music adds both dimension and balance to the others and honors them all.

The key with any creative quest is to engage and practice every day. It may sound challenging, but each small daily practice contributes to building toward competence and eventually mastery. You need to keep the guitar out and handy, so there is little barrier to action. So, what to practice? That presents a key and perplexing question. Back in the day, most detailed instructional materials were available only in print. It is so different now with the advent of instructional videos on YouTube. There is a veritable ocean of content that spans from the disappointingly amateur to the truly excellent. To my surprise, many online instructors pitch lessons for older students. One announces. “This is where people over forty go to learn guitar.” Some even say they are the place for people in their '40s, '50s, and '60s. I laugh and ask myself, “What about those who are in their '70s?”

It can be bewildering as many videos admonish viewers what not to do, which can be helpful. But the key I now seek is how to structure my time to achieve the most progress. Some video instructors provide roadmaps that include song playing, technique, and music theory. Many lead off with “How I would learn guitar from scratch.” Or “If I started over, this is how I’d get good at guitar.” Some are more helpful than others. I do like those that tell you not to bother learning all the full major scales up and down the fretboard and focus on acquiring the skills that you will use the most.

For example, for beginners: playing open chords, basic chord structure, learning strumming techniques and common strumming patterns, open chord variations, barre chords, chord transitions and connecting phrases, easy pentatonic shapes, picking techniques, bends, hammer-ons, and pull-offs, signature riffs, and licks. For intermediates: the major and minor pentatonic scales, arpeggios, triads (major and minor), switching between major and minor pentatonic, and mixing scales and chords. And improvising. Whew!

In the meantime, I take sublime pleasure in the process of playing a fine instrument, with well-executed notes jangling cleanly. And, of course, simply learning and playing music that most appeals to me. Lately, I have been focused on “Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac, “Better if You Don’t” by CHVRCHES, “Civilian” by Wye Oak, “Summer of '69” by Bryan Adams, “I Forgive it All” by Mudcrutch (Tom Petty’s other group), "Song for Woody" by Bob Dylan, “The Lucky One” by Alison Krauss and Union Station,” When You Say Nothing at All” by Keith Whitley, “Follow You Down” by the Gin Blossoms, and “More Than a Feeling” by Boston. Makes sense, right? It has been both frustrating and fun as I retrain my reluctant right and left hands to do what they need to do. But it is a decent set of tunes to both challenge and please me. I can feel the progress, and that encourages me. 

Will I be able to skillfully practice my way from ‘Guitar Zero’ to ‘Guitar Hero ’? Ha, ha! Not bloody likely. That ship has long since sailed. I just want to make the journey as enjoyable as possible. Yeah, with patience and focus, I know I can. And, at this stage, I do realize that time is of the essence. Lauren Bateman, a fine online instructor, encourages her viewers by saying, “We all know that the best time to learn guitar was twenty years ago. But the next best time is right now.” I agree.