| Back to the
musician's life…
After a long pause, I'm back to give you a little insight into my
life and times. I guess this is what they call a blog in new Americanisch-Deutsche
computerese!
Mainly I want to work up to talk about the new band I have just started,
TC and the Smashtones. But let me start a bit further back.
It was a long, hard pull up from the comforts of the stroke, I'll tell
you. In a way, I've sort of looked at it as a vacation. No more getting
from studio to studio, remembering to practice, to work on my new record,
to make calls for the next live show, etc. etc. etc.
All I had to do was lay in bed, get up when they told me to, go to sleep
when they told me to, and go to the bathroom. I didn't need to make any
decisions on my own! The friendly folks at Berlin clinic took care of
that; Logopaedie, psychiatry, physiotherapy, and tests, tests, tests -
they mapped out a friendly schedule for me, and all I had to do was follow
it.
But--- all good things must come to an end. (I'm being facetious here…
I couldn't wait to get out of there and rejoin the show.)
The first thing I thought was to make a show “live”. And I
don't know why, but I had an idea to be a modern day Frank Sinatra; you
know, to seem a little bit older, drawing on the wisdom of your strength
from the good times, imparting that strength to others, etc., etc.
The first thing was my voice. I'd given up on guitar playing. My right
side was impossibly lame, and it could not be moved, even to hold a pick.
But my voice; my good old trusty voice! Surely it was possible with a
bit of training, to get it up to scratch.
I tried a bit of folk songs at home; "If I had a Hammer", "Early
in the Morning", and of course my favorite--- "Puff the Magic
Dragon". I thought I would be a bit rusty, but would get the voice
back in a matter of days (or if you really want to be picky, weeks).
I couldn't believe the sound that came out of me. It was weak, it was
out of tune, it was in no ways able to convince an audience (and much
less me)… it sounded like some old hag who had never sung before
attempting an aria in the Milano opera house. Oh please, make it stop!
I remembered my dear friend Ron Randolph, one of the Americans in Berlin,
who has made his life with music. Among many other things, he set up a
schedule of lessons to help and aid those who plan to become better singers.
And, I recalled, he had said that if there was anything I wanted, just
give him a call.
Hey, Ron… I really need your help!
more...
|
