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Ripening Grapes


caldrail

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In some ways, my computers health crisis has proven to be something of a break from my usual routine. Its been a while since I last did any serious work with music but already the temptation is growing. Unfortunately it has been a while since I last practised, and to my chagrin I've realised how lame a player I've become. No matter. The guitar, bass, and keyboard have colonised my front room and my fingers are very, very sore!

 

You know what? I think its time I explored some of the musical forms I had in mind way back in my Red jasper days. I don't like making promises about producing great work and so forth, it always sounds like sour grapes and talentless bluster, so I'll say no more. If you'll excuse me, my masterpiece awaits...

 

...And the best bit is, our old band singer won't be able to claim the lyrics and melodies are his! Ooops. Did I mention sour grapes?

 

Music Lesson of the Week

It's struck me how lucky youngsters are these days. Back when I started rock music, and this was 1976, getting reheasal space and gigs was a monumental effort. Today the young musicians get government assistance, college courses, community gigs, exposure slots on radio. What struck me even more was just how clueless some of these kids are. Is that because I'm some great expert in the business? Well hardly, though obviously I've had some valuable experience, but with all this assistance available how come so few of them actually learn anything?

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Erm.. Was that a compliment? Actually I don't really think I'm idealizing the past at all. I spent my youth banging my head against every brick wall in my path. The internet wasn't the tool it is now in any way whatsoever, and for the most part community support for music was paying lip service.

 

Local music is a different ball game now. In my home town, there are at least three professional rehearsal facilities - you didn't see that in 1980! All we could do back then was find a hall we could hire and hope no-one complained.

 

What I haven't described is the sheer frustration of trying to run a local band. The image of a bunch of mates getting together and making music for the fun of it is a ridiculous notion that belongs to american youth fantasies. The reality was you spent ages trying to find someone who could actually play, then watch them fall under the spell of girlfriends or motorbikes as you desperately tried to stop the band falling apart because we weren't playing someones favourite style of music.

 

Don't get me wrong. I did go professional in the end, for three short years, and I do make a lot of tongue-in-cheek comments about my 'rock star' status. It was tough going. Lots of travelling in vans barely held together by rust, late nights, ungrateful promoters and venue owners, and a population of people who wanted to hear something else.

 

But I don't regret it for a moment. I do get people scoffing at my efforts and sometimes disbelief I did anything in the first place, but I was there, they weren't. 'Nuff said. Intellect doesn't come into it.

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What I haven't described is the sheer frustration of trying to run a local band. The image of a bunch of mates getting together and making music for the fun of it is a ridiculous notion that belongs to american youth fantasies. The reality was you spent ages trying to find someone who could actually play, then watch them fall under the spell of girlfriends or motorbikes as you desperately tried to stop the band falling apart because we weren't playing someones favourite style of music.

 

Don't get me wrong. I did go professional in the end, for three short years, and I do make a lot of tongue-in-cheek comments about my 'rock star' status. It was tough going. Lots of travelling in vans barely held together by rust, late nights, ungrateful promoters and venue owners, and a population of people who wanted to hear something else.

 

And this is how it should be. Sheer merit and stubborn determination is what makes great music (even if there's nobody there to hear it ;)).

It's just too easy these days, hence the tepid, unimaginative music you hear almost everywhere.

You have my respect for winging it old school. B)

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It gets better. I've just popped down to the supermarket, and my route passes by one of these rehearsal places tucked away in an alleyway behind some offices.

 

As I passed, a group of lads were leaving, guitars in hand, all looking very fresh faced and innocent - not one over the age of twenty.

 

One of them was talking and he said (and I kid you not) "I swear to God, he used to play in some band called Red Jasper. Got left behind or something".

 

I don't know whether to smile or cry ;)

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Smile...you were noticed! So what if practice has yielded sore appendages; your greatness is known!

 

That being said, I can't wait for my landlord's band (where everyone is at least 40, most over 50) get out of the garage-status. Evidently they were originally pretty good; now I'd give them a passable mark, at best. When my sometime neighbor (he comes down once a week, just to practice), who is the lead guitarist, takes over the song, it goes straight to Grateful Dead territory...not very fun. My upstairs neighbor, on the other hand, is a professional bassist and singer, and when his band plays in the back, um, wow...what a difference!

 

So rejoice, our Caldrail...you are indeed (almost) famous!

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I googled Red Jasper..

Listened to some music..

Waterfalls and Through Dawn.

matched my mood tonight.. or enhance the depression??

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One of them was talking and he said (and I kid you not) "I swear to God, he used to play in some band called Red Jasper. Got left behind or something".

 

I don't know whether to smile or cry :unsure:

 

That's awesome. :D

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You know, idealization of the past is one of the first signs of intellectual aging.

Right so, old people never did that when I was a kid.

The old people in those days always stayed young-in-spirit and up-to-date and they were always the first to try out new things such as 100 % nylon shirts - mmm

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.

And you didn't have all those 'groupies' or whatever you call them, throwing themselves at rock musicians either, isn't that right, caldrail ?

 

I am so tempted to write 'Confessions of a Rock Drummer' :unsure: Truthfully, I did encounter 'groupies' but obviously the level of attention varies with the success of the artist concerned. "Spider Dijon" I was not. But hey, having a woman do her best to get off with you in the darkness of backstage 'Devizes Bowl' may have been poorly timed (I was waiting to go on stage) but ye gods it was fun.

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