I used to love music. It was my life. It was all I could think about. I use to eat breathe dream music. Somewhere that all just died off. Did the music change or did I; or was this some weird combination of the two. I used to be in bands. I loved to play music write music create music. It was my passion! Music was that friend I could always turn to when I was at my lowest. Music, more often than not, was the reason for the highs in my world. Now I barely enjoy listening to music never mind playing or creating it. In the words of B.B. King “the thrill is gone”.
When I was younger all we did it seemed was to talk about music. We made mix tapes and passed them back and forth. We would pull apart meaning in songs, or images in music videos. What did it all mean? I for one knew this was part of my job. I had to look at it through this lens I was going to be a famous musician…a rock star. This was the dream and it had many incarnations as I grew. The glam metal lead guitarists with more money than he knew what to do with was the first part of the dream. The thoughtful soulful meaningful acoustic act seemed to be the second idea that came to mind. A life of medium sized venues and intimate gatherings where I could have a real connection with the fans. The life of a producer was the last one. I was not only going to be a famous singer songwriter in my own right but I would also produce the acts worth hearing today. That sought after man behind the band. The guy only real musicians know about. That guy whose name appeared on the back of the record in small print. The guy was ultimately responsible for keeping the id junkies on track and on task to make the songs that were the soundtrack for your life. These were the dreams. My entire career planned to the last detail I had this.
I strove for this. I fought for this. I bounced from one band to another; seeking that ever elusive fame and money. I wrote songs by the dozens, most of the crap, but I wrote them. I played them for anyone who wanted to hear them, I even played them for a few who did not. In the eighties I was in several metal bands and I think only one of them actually had a gig. We played this church talent show and it was horrible. The other guitar player froze on stage and kept playing the same chord. Not the progression but the same exact chord. Somewhere in this world there is a video of the train wreck, and I would kill to see it. Senior year of high school I began to be more introspective. I went nowhere without my guitar. I mean nowhere. I dragged it with m to school from class to class. I kept it with me when traveling from party to party on Friday and Saturday nights. If I took a trip anywhere for any reason the guitar came with me, I took it with me on a trip to Hawaii. Just me and my ovation celebrity; my first real relationship, and I still have her here with me she needs a lot of work but I got her. This was my love. My last band, The Outlaw Troubadours, was by far my best. We spent the summer of 95 tearing up the scene in south Palm Beach County. We were on a six night two week rotation. We played everywhere and packed them in doing it. I was finally a rock star, albeit in a small local area but rocks star just the same. Our last gig was at Moon fest. This is a giant Halloween party where they close down the street and people wander around listening to music and having a great time. This was an awesome night. Then after that the gigs just stopped.
I still love to play, usually. I still like to write, sometimes. I even teach a guitar class now, the future rock stars I call it. One thing is for sure the passion is gone. I no longer get the thrill from playing. I no longer get the “great idea” in the middle of the night that I have to put down on paper. The magic has stopped. I sometimes will watch a concert or music documentary and think “yeah I miss it” or “I need to put together a demo and book a show or two” but then the next day it seems to be just too much. I am overwhelmed by the thought of having to go out and actually pursue this thing I once loved.
Music no longer makes me happy. It is no longer the driving force. It has become a burden or a job. I see several of my friends enjoying it. I see them loving to play, on YouTube and Facebook. I think to myself “I could so do that”. I find myself wondering if I lived near those guys would we still play. I even wish I was still interested enough to go out and hear new music. I used to love to hear live local music. Covers or originals it didn’t matter. I just loved sitting the dark coffee house, or crowded into some warehouse hearing the music. And that is really the key I guess. I just don’t hear it the music anymore. I’m just saying