I’ve heard the term “my Mt. Rushmore” mentioned several times on podcasts recently, where the speaker is referring to influential or heroic people in their lives.
This morning before work, I asked AI to generate my own personal Mt. Rushmore, featuring men I find inspiring: Steve Vai, Edward Van Halen, Billy Martin and Edward Gorey. The results are mixed.
When I was a kid, MTV played music, and it was like a drug. After school, if I wasn’t working my dishwashing job, I’d have cable on hoping to see Stewart Copeland and the Police, or Van Halen. My mom worked in another city, and my dad had long since moved out. I’d watch some MTV, go play drums, watch MTV, go play drums.
We had a pretty decent radio station in Annapolis, which seemed aligned with solid college radio programming. You could hear roots rock, folk, classical Indian music, along with the Ian Dury & The Blockheads. This was a healthy counterbalance to MTV.
As a kid, I didn’t listen to Kiss. My neighbor had the four solo albums with the cool portraits, where each band member was outlined in a neon glow. Frankly, when he played Kiss, I didn’t understand it. It sounded abrasive to me, and not in a good way. To this day, I haven’t heard those records.
I listened to what we had in the house – classical, some Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa albums, Dixieland, even marches recorded by the Naval Academy Band. I also had a Vince Guaraldi record, and The Ventures doing TV theme songs. That Ventures record made a big, lasting impression on me.
One summer, an older guy in my neighborhood told me about the Beatles – Abby Road and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. My parents had those records, so I went home and listened to them. I played along with them on the drums. He also told me about Cheap Trick, and the Beatles’ obvious influence on them. The first record I ever bought with my own money was One on One.
A few years later, I got to see them play, and even met them. Robin Zander asked that the name of my high school band was (It was Aces High), and said “Man, that’s a cool name.” What a nice man.
Around this time, a friend in the neighborhood gave me a copy of Rush’s Moving Pictures. My friends all loved Rush, and I think I was a little late to that party (I missed out on A Farewell to Kings, 2112, etc.). I bought a cassette of Exit Stage Left, which was the latest Rush album, and that was my first rock concert. My Dad took me and my pal Hugh. We had just found our seats when Spirit of Radio came to life. I was stunned! It was wonderful.
I wasn’t a great student. My parents divorced, my mom was continually stressed out, angry and mostly absent. I don’t blame her, she did her best to keep us afloat, and wanted to make a new life for herself. This left me mostly unsupervised.
I worked my jobs, went to school, played in the marching band, and I had my own rock band. I remember it as a continual caffeine-withdrawal-headache-slog, and music was the thing that kept me going. Most of my friends were really good drummers, and we met through the marching band. We pushed each other to become better musicians, and this pursuit, I believe, kept me from falling into using drugs. Also, I hated drugs, and I didn’t have much money.
Being in a band was also a pass into other, remote social circles. We played at parties, and were able to pass through, and even be accepted by, other communities: the rich kids, the “burn-outs,” the jocks, pretty girls, etc.
I spent the money I made washing dishes on records and blank cassettes. My friend Hugh had a huge record collection and a nice stereo, and he used to let me make tapes from his albums. Neil did, too. My friends all had nice drum sets, and we were inspired to play Rush, The Police, Iron Maiden, and Van Halen. I was also lucky in that our pal Will had both a 4-track recorder, and a tascam 8-track at his house. This opened up avenues of composing that were not available to other kids. My band wrote and recorded an original called Only got eyes for you.
I’ve talked about my original drum set elsewhere, a blue sparkle Japanese no name with lauan shells (above, in my friend’s bedroom). No matter how much I improved, or implored my dad to get something else, he never sprung for an upgrade. Or drum lessons, for that matter. One summer, my neighbor and buddy Chip invited me to work at his dad’s business. I worked 4 ten hour days, starting at 5 am, and made more than twice minimum wage. I also washed dishes on the weekends. I worked very hard that summer, and I made some good money. Enough to spend $150 on a beat up Tama Imperial Star platina finished 5 piece drum set (the snare was actually a pearl snare) from my guitarist, Eric Lee. It had two open bottom concert toms. I bought Hugh’s rototoms from him for $75. I felt like I had arrived! I took those drums to college with me, and used them while touring with Bazooka Joe (but I switched to a 4 piece), and recording with Diana Froley. I still have the original kick and floor tom. During the pandemic, I picked up another 12″ tom, as well as a second kick and snare. That kit was unbelievably reliable and durable. It was probably the best $150 I ever spent on music.
One day, my buddy Tim made me a mix tape of punk music that he got from his brother J, and the world seemed to open up for me. The music was energetic, fun, clever, and it didn’t require fancy equipment or gear. If MTV offered the illusion of culture and music which was unattainable to an uncertain, self conscious teenager, then punk was pure possibility. We bought polyester pants and work shirts from thrift stores, we rode skateboards, and punk became the soundtracks to our lives.
I played with Tonie Joy a few times (we went to the same middle and high schools) and we had a band called the 100th monkey for about two weeks. I still have a recording of our practices somewhere. However, I was in college, and the commute to play with him was too much for a guy without a car. I liked him a lot.
Music was the thing that got me through college, and I wrote about that elsewhere, so I won’t recap here. I had a band, and we progressed from doing all covers to writing our own songs. We even rented a house together after college, although we disbanded the same year.
During my junior year, I helped a graduating senior with his theater project by writing the music for Sam Shepard’s The Tooth of Crime, and then performing it with a band I put together. Here are a couple of pics from the after party.
After I graduated, I spent about five years working in “the music industry.” I was a buyer for local independent record stores and a wholesale music “One Stop” that sold to smaller mom -n- pop stores. I also wrote reviews for a couple of local free music monthly papers.
Being a music buyer meant that I got a lot of promotional recordings – sometimes as many as 60 a week. I would listen to some of it, and I sold most of it at Soundgarden in Baltimore. That doubled my income, and allowed me to build my first recording studio in my home (The Dead Chicken Ranch). I also brushed against the rich and famous – literally – Joan Jett leaned against me when we had a photo taken. I met Bootsy Collins at work, and Yo-Yo Ma. Anthony Kiedis called me “Jim ska la Jim.” I had lunch with Dave Mustaine from Megadeth, and he turned out to be really nice. I got into many, many shows, and also had friends at record labels, like Skene! Records, East Side Digital, Sub Pop, and Amphetamine Reptile.
I also joined Baltimore’s Bazooka Joe, with Jeff Caplin AKA “Guppy” and the late Kenneth Stanley Bauer Jr AKA “Stork.” I was given the name “Doorjam” by my friends Skizz and Meatpole. I went to my Bazooka Joe interview, after answering a ad found in the Baltimore City Paper, and immediately hit it off with Guppy. He was mild mannered, sweet, and extremely intelligent. They gave me a copy of their Ep, Two-Thirds and I was hooked.
Guppy is brilliant. He had synthesized Thurston Moore with Hüsker Dü and sprinkled Coltrane on top. He and I shared an interest in dissonance, and the three of us recorded Imbalance. We played a lot of shows up and down the east coast. We played in Virginia Beach, Baltimore, the Black Cat in Washington D.C., NYU in New York City, the 8×10 in Baltimore, and Max’s on Broadway. We played at The Gas Station, a punk venue located inside a former gas station at 194 East 2nd Street in Manhattan just before GG Allin’s last show there.
I think Bazooka Joe (the iteration with me in it, anyway) only had one record in us, and we more or less nailed it. I got sober while with these guys, and as I grew into adulthood, the anger/disillusionment/angst was replaced with contentment, peace, ambition, and some wisdom. Guppy and I are still close, and hang out several times a year.
I was in a few other bands, too. I had a ball playing bass with my pals Meatpole and Skizz in Blister Freak Circus.
I played drums for a band called Honeypump. Christoph and Julia Green (guitar and bass respectively) were originally the Maryland Stawberries (or something). They were good, solid song writers, and we clicked. We made a demo with Tony French at the Hatfactory, and played with Circus Lupus, Jawbox and the Judy Bats. If I remember correctly, I quit the band, but I can’t remember the reason. I don’t think I left on good terms, though.
If either of the Greens every read this, I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you. You both were great, and I still like the recording we made. I hope you are still rocking!
I met a fellow named Patrick O’Donnell when I was an extra on the set of John Water’s Serial Mom. Pat started a label called Skoda Records, and “discovered” Diana Froley while mastering the Bazooka Joe album Imabalance. He gave mer her CD You’re Not Broke but I’m Going to Fix You and I was immediately charmed by her. We ended up helping her put out Pet My Kitty, Mr. New York City, which was recorded at the Dead Chicken Ranch. We also formed the first iteration of Diana Froley and Pajama Party, with Rupert Wondolowski on bass.
About the time I was playing with Diana Froley, I got a job at a local nursing home + geriatric hospital as an “expressive therapist.” Diana had a degree in Art Therapy, I think, and encouraged me. I will always be grateful to Diana.
My duties consisted of facilitating drumming, pottery and art making groups in various adult populations (Adult day care, dementia, psych and the ventilator unit). I also conducted Tai Chi lessons and taught breathing exercises to people weening of the ventilators. I learned two important lessons with that job.
I walked onto the dementia unit with all my drums, and distributed them among the residents. There was a new man there. A nurse told me his name, and we began tapping out the rhythm of his name as a pulse. “Jeff-reee Tom-as Sull-eye-van. Jeff-reee Tom-as Sull-eye-van. Jeff-reee Tom-as Sull-eye-van.” That wasn’t his real name, just an example I made up for this post.
The man began saying his name along with the group as we played together. At the end of the session, a colleague rushed up to me and asked “How did you do that??? He had a stroke six months ago, and hasn’t spoken since. He’s been working with a speech pathologist.”
I hadn’t done anything, except lead the group in some rhythmic exercises. But this man was able to respond to the rhythm, and it was the rhythm that helped him traverse some mental pathway that he was unable to access previously. I was as amazed as my colleague. It changed that way I think about music, too. It let me separate my ego from music itself. I suddenly became uninterested in performing, which was just as well. I had a family to support, and needed to develop a career. So, I stepped into technology.
In the late 90’s, I began experimenting with looping samples and found sounds. I made a few recordings, but after we moved out of Baltimore city, I stopped pursing music.
I played drums for Patrick O’Donnell on three of his recordings. We tracked the drums for Cold Drinks at Inner Ear in Virginia. I never charged Patrick for my services, but I did get about 17 minutes of drum time at Inner Ear. Chad Clark (Smart Went Crazy, Beauty Pill) was the engineer, and provided the stems. It was a big deal for me to record there, and spend time in the studio that so many people that I admire from Discord have recorded.
As my kids started getting older, I focused more on my career, and sort of lost the thread of music.
After a hiatus of almost a decade, my musical self began to awaken again. I’ve always said that:
“It all comes from the same place: Music Theory helps composition, music composition feels a lot like the creative parts of computer programming, developing software is a lot like writing songs, putting an album of songs together feels a lot like make an art exhibit, making a solo art show is like assembling an animation, finishing an animated film is a lot like writing a novel, and on it goes.”
~ Me
I bought a house in Baltimore City in 2016, and began the next wave of my musical journey. I developed an interest in signal processing, effects pedals, and several digital audio work stations (DAWs) for home recording. I joined a surf band for a while, and I released my own recordings. I make my own soundtracks for my films.
A lot of that is documented in this blog, but here’s the part I’ve been leading up to. It wasn’t until the pandemic area that I began to find the confidence to express my own voice. My voice has evolved since high school and Bazooka Joe, even though I had stopped using it.
It takes a long time to sound like you.
It sounds ridiculous to say that, and yet it’s very true. And it’s the most satisfying aspect of all this.
When I was in my undergraduate program, I had several music and art history classes that ran concurrently. Baroque music/art, twentieth century music/art, German Expressionist art/music, and so on. The parallels between music and art was stunning – culturally, aesthetically, and philosophically, all these thinkers tended to be grappling with the same things using different mediums. And when I widened my gaze to allow for literature and poetry, it was no surprise to find the same threads running through that work.
I’ve spent many years working on my visual art. Drawing, primarily, is expressed throughout this website. My dioramas are quiet, and can be pursued late at night in silence. While focusing on career, my art satisfied my creative needs. And yet, I suspect my musical sensibilities were continuing to develop. Just as it’s possible to see undeniable similarities between German Expressionist painting and German Expressionist opera, I’ve found the threads of me runs through my visual art, music and animation. So obvious, as it’s me that does these things, and “the way you do anything is the way you do everything.”
Of course, I have many influences in my musical DNA, starting with my Dad, my professor Garry Clarke, lessons with Billy Martin, and Steve Vai’s influence.
I’ve talked about some very influential recordings elsewhere. But having more time to experiment has opened up new avenues of composing and improvising. It really did take a long time to get here, and I’m glad that I did.
Thanks for reading.
I brought home an Ibanez today! After months of research and several nice offers on Reverb, I decided to go to Bill’s Music, and support them. I’ve been playing my JEM a lot more, and I have been obsessing about the Pia for about year.
Jeff, Lily and I went to Bill’s after the Baltimore Pedal Show, following a very hearty lunch.
I got the see Bill’s warehouse, which was super interesting to me.
Jeff commented on the way home “You bought a real guitar!!!”
We had a long, interesting discussion about gear this weekend. We bumped into an old music colleague at the pedal show who maintains a solidly contemptuous opinion of Fender Guitars, and only plays Gibson.
Jeff, while in Bazooka Joe, only played Gibson. He had a couple of SG’s and a Les Paul. The Les Paul stayed in his apartment, however. One of the SG’s and the Les Paul were stolen, sadly. Back then, I had picked up a black Fender Mustang from Gordon Miller Music for $199. It was a stretch for me to acquire that guitar back then, and I loved it dearly. It now resides with my daughters. I also had my mediocre Kramer Focus (mentioned elsewhere).
Now, Jeff plays a $400 Fender Strat, and loves it. Our conversation finally arrived at the notion of playing whatever instrument brings you joy, and disregarding any previous contempt founded on outside opinions and illformed bias. You, dear reader, undoubtedly find this to be an obvious and correct approach, and you might wonder why I’m spending the electricity to document this thought.
A handful of guitars have threaded their way in and out of my musical experience over the past 40 years. I have developed a very high opinion of Ibanez guitars. In fact, my undergraduate thesis was concerned with the evolution of electric guitars, and I determined back then that Ibanez were leading the field in innovation and quality, particularly with the debut of the JEM.
Ironically, I didn’t actually play a JEM until 2017. It was a used one, and I bought it on the spot. It’s the midline model, and plays like a sports car would drive on an empty highway. I have become a better player for having owned it, but not in the way I thought I would. I am not a shredder – I don’t have the interest to sit and develop the precision required to play that way. While I love the occasional blistering ripper, the virtuosity that overshadows other musical ideas can seem shallow. No, I am not a shredder, but Ibanez guitars offer much more than a fast neck.
I have several, ranging from ~$250 Talman bass/ArtCore models, all the way up to the Pia. They each delight, and offer inspiration. The are also as reliable as the Honda cars I’ve owned over the years, and that means a great deal to me.
I was able to demonstrate this to Jeff. And, I have other guitars in rotation besides Ibanez, namely a Squier + Fender Bass VI, and an Epiphone Les Paul.
As a bonus, I also picked up a used Tascam 4 track, for continued retro lofi audio experimentation.
A wonderful day.
Inviolate: free or safe from injury or violation.
On Saturday, I went to Harrisburg, PA, to the Whitaker Center to see my hero Steve Vai. He’s touring to support his Inviolate album. If you’ve spent anytime with me at all, I have probably mentioned him.
I’ve always loved guitar. I’ve played drums since elementary school (thanks to the no-name blue sparkle drums dad brought home from a garage sale one day). But, my dad observed that I seemed to be a “frustrated guitarist” stuck on the drums.
When David Lee Roth hung his own shingle out after stepping away from Van Halen, my pals and I were curious as to how he’d deal with the red, black and white striped elephant in the room.
I picked up the Yankee Rose 7″, and while the intro to that song was cool and novel, I was stupefied by Shyboy on the b-side. I was an instant fan of both Steve Vai and Billy Sheehan. By now, Vai had already filled Yngwie Malmsteen’s shoes in Alcatraz, and worked extensively with Frank Zappa. I picked up a bunch of Zappa records in college. I knew some Zappa records because of Terry Bozzio, but went way deep after 1986.
I worked in a kitchen washing dishes during my high school years, and I had saved up some money to buy a guitar. This next part is something I regretted for many years. My neighbor had an Ibanez Les Paul copy. According to him, it had the words Les Paul on it, and Ibanez got sued over this. He offered to sell it to me for $150, and for another $150, I could get his Fender twin reverb. Instead, I gave my money to Hugh Welton’s older brother Griff for a sunburst Cortez, which, according to him, had borrowed and used by the Residents on stage.
Aside from that last, unverified feature, that guitar was truly junk. It wouldn’t stay in tune, and the pick-ups were crap. I do believe I chose poorly, and certainly overpaid. I recorded Whisker Biscuit with it, and I took it to college with me, but I’ve always viewed that purchase as a set back, rather than a step forward. EDIT: after posting this, Paul Gilbert shared a picture of himself holding “the one that got away.” Here it is:
At the end of my freshman year, or maybe in the fall of my sophomore year, I took a trip to Chuck Levin’s music store and bet the farm on a black Kramer focus guitar that was a scratched up floor model. I traded to the Cortez and forked over all my dough – it was as much guitar as I could afford at the time. It had a humbucker pickup, two single coils and three toggle switches to turn them on/off. It also had a floating Floyd Rose tremolo with locking nut, which is really why I bought it. Kramer + Floyd Rose invoked Van Halen.
I used GHS Boomer 009 strings because that’s what Brad Gillis preferred. I had this guitar until 2013.
Following a winding academic pathway, I ended up being a music major, and primarily focused on composition and theory. The college did not offer instruction for percussionists or guitar players, so I had to plunk along on piano as best as I was able. [To this day, I’ve never had a formal guitar or bass lesson.] In order to graduate, you had to do one of three things (besides accumulate the required credits with passing grades):
I opted for the exam.
The tiny music department consisted of three professors, was very conservative, and had focused mostly on early music and the theory of the Classical period. I didn’t have the confidence to present my compositions at that time. I had written a great deal of music. I had written some quartets, some 12 tone serial pieces, and I was learning orchestration. Most of my writing was for my rock band, and I suspected that it would not be well received at a stuffy recital.
I attended my first review session with my professor, mentor, and dear friend Garry Clarke. As he began asking questions, I froze, and then panicked. I recall walking back to my room thinking “This isn’t going to work.” I had no desire to revisit this material, and I wasn’t sure I would ever pass this test. This was a nightmarish realization. In that moment, an idea for a thesis struck me. I could write a paper on the history and development of the electric guitar in the rock idiom. I’ll never forget that moment – it was truly a gift. From where that inspiration came, I’ll never know.
I rushed breathlessly into Garry’s office the next morning and pitched the idea to him. Garry was a little stern with me, noting that I should have presented this idea a month before, I missed the deadline, etc. Yet, he could see my enthusiasm, and admitted he had concerns about my passing the comprehensive exam as well.
I started the paper with the very first electric guitars, and wrote about Les Paul. I explained how pick-ups function, and how guitars are made. I connected players innovations to improvements in the instrument, and discussed how each affected the other. Ibanez had released the JEM guitar, and Steve Vai represented the peak of innovation and virtuosity.
Around this time, Steve’s self released solo album Flexable was in constant rotation in my walkman cassette player. I listened to The Attitude Song, So Happy, Salamanders in the Sun, etc. over and over. I loved that record. Vai had borrowed some gear from Frank Zappa, and recorded it on an 8-track deck in his home. I had borrowed (and eventually bought) my friend’s ROSS 4×4 tape recorder, and spent countless hours writing and recording, too. Truly inspiring.
Oh a whim, I decided to mail a draft of my chapter on Steve to the P.O. Box on the back of Flexable. About two weeks later, I received a response from Steve saying he’d love to grant me an interview for my thesis, and if I was interested, to please call his sister and set it up. He was on tour with Whitesnake at the time. When he arrived in Maryland, we talked for about 40 minutes or so on the phone. I was starstruck, and he was generous and kind to me.
Steve sent me backstage passes, too, but the Whitesnake people wouldn’t honor the passes and refused to let us backstage.
As a result of this, I graduated with honors. I learned a lot from the experience. When inspiration strikes (thesis idea, sending letters to p.o. boxes, other opportunities), ACT UPON IT. After graduation, I picked up some freelance writing gigs with local music papers because of all this.
Steve had dictated the letter to his sister, who has sent it to me at college. Because he was on tour, and because the creepy Whitesnake people were actual creeps, he had not gotten to sign the letter. In 2005, I attended an EVO experience at the Ram’s Head in Baltimore, and showed Steve the letter. He said “I remember this! I remember you,” and he signed the letter for me.
Another aside about my thesis: Steve Via played the devil’s own guitarist (Jack Butler) in the movie Crossroads. William Kanengiser had performed the classical guitar parts for Ralph Machio, and Steve did the electric non-blues parts. As my luck would have it, Kanengiser gave a concert at my college and I was able to interview him about Steve, too. All this went into my thesis, which ended up being 126 pages long.
So, that’s my big Steve Vai story. I can’t over emphasize the importance of that event in my life. And he’s continued to inspire me, both as a musician and as a person.
I first learned about Eckhart Tolle from him. And, partly through his example, I’ve found my own weird musical voice and identity.
Okay, so back to Saturday. I arrived in Harrisburg at 3:00, and found my way to the Whitaker Center with the help of Daniel, a PhD economist+guitar aficionado who passed the time with me until we made it inside. No phones/videos/photos were allowed, so I don’t have any pics of the Q&A session with Steve, nor the soundcheck. They have sought to create an intimate and safe place for this exchange, and I think it works. I also really enjoyed talking with the attendees. It was friendly and warm.
Steve came out, and took a few moments to look everyone in the eye. “Better than a handshake,” he said. Before answering each question, he paused the thought about how best to respond. It was lovely.
I’m going to leave the conversation in that room, as they requested. What I will share is that during the Q&A, and even while performing on stage, he was completely present and giving us his full attention. Not just looking “at” us, but really seeing us. He gave me a lot to think about. After about 45 minutes, he posed for phots with us that his son Julian took, We shook hands and he signed my guitar strap for me.
Then, we attended the sound check. He warmed up by playing a looping staccato melody that he handed off to his guitarist. He instructed Jeremy Colson as to the beat he wanted, and then they improvised for five+ minutes or so. It was great. Then, he played Little Pretty, and wrapped up with The Teeth of the Hydra. I was about 15 feet away! I appreciated that all the lights were on, and the volume was reasonable (it was much louder during the main concert). I was very moved. It was excellent.
I bought a hat from his son, Fire, and managed to “fire off” a dad joke about… dad hats. So good!
While we are on the subject, I want to share one other bit of trivia. When I explained that Steve Vai had played with Zappa and transcribed his music, Garry softened to the idea of my paper. We had some of Frank Zappa’s albums in the music department record library (namely Weasels Ripped my Flesh), and he appreciated Zappa’s reputation as a composer and performer. I even loaned Garry my copy of The Real Frank Zappa Book.
Zappa lived in Baltimore for a time. My late sister-in-law had worked with his grandmother, and the Zappa family lived very close to my current home in Baltimore City (below). I was able to attend his statue dedication back in 2010.
I recently found a letter that 16-year old Frank Zappa wrote to Edgard Varèse 1957 (accessed at https://orchestra2001.org/inner.php?pageid=1468).
Mr. Edgard Varèse
188 Sullivan St. New York, New York
Dear Sir:
Perhaps you might remember me from my stupid phone call last January, if not, my name again is Frank Zappa Jr. I am 16 years old … that might explain partly my disturbing you last winter. The reason for my letter at this time is that I am visiting relatives in Baltimore and as long as I am on the East Coast I hope I can get to see you.
It might seem strange but ever since I was 13 I have been interested in your music. The whole thing stems from the time when the keeper of this little record store sold me your album “The Complete Works of Edgard Varèse, Vol.l.” The only reason I knew it existed was that an article in either LOOK or the POST mentioned it as being noisy and unmusical and only good for trying out the sound systems in high fidelity units (referring to your “IONIZATIONS” [sic]). I don’t know how the store I got it from ever obtained it, but, after several hearings, I became curious and bought it for $5.40, which, at the time seemed awfully high and being so young, kept me broke for three weeks. Now I wouldn’t trade it for anything and I am looking around for another copy as the one I have is very worn and scratchy.
After I had struggled through Mr. Finklestein’s notes on the back cover (I really did struggle too, for at the time I had had no training in music other than practice at drum rudiments) I became more and more interested in you and your music. I began to go to the library and take out books on modern composers and modern music, to learn all I could about Edgard Varèse. It got to be my best subject (your life) and I began writing my reports and term papers on you at school. At one time when my history teacher asked us to write on an American that has really done something for the U.S.A. I wrote on you and the Pan American Composers League and the New Symphony. I failed. The teacher had never heard of you and said I made the whole thing up. Silly but true. That was in my Sophomore year in high school.
Throughout my life all the talents and abilities that God has left me with have been self developed, and when the time came for Frank to learn how to read and write music, Frank taught himself that too. I picked it all up from the library.
I have been composing for two years now, utilizing a strict twelve-tone technique, producing effects that are reminiscent of Anton Webern. During those two years I have written two short woodwind quartets and a short symphony for winds, brass and percussion.
Recently I have been earning my keep at home with my blues band, the BLACKOUTS. We have done quite well and in my association with my fellow musicians I am learning to play other instruments besides drums.
I paint in oils and watercolor and last year produced a cartoon film in school by painting color directly onto a 250 foot reel of cleared 16 mm movie film. I painted on the color in such a way that I managed to closely, but not completely, synchronize their movements to your “DENSITY 21.5” and the second “movement” of “OCTANDRE”. It brought about some amazing results from the audience and my counselors in the office allowed me to make a trip I had planned to Walt Disney studios with the film.
Nothing ever came of my trip, but when I got back to school I was informed I had a chance to be skipped from the Junior year in high school to the Freshman year at the junior college which adjoined the school as an experiment.
I went to the Jaycee and studied harmony and music appreciation and history for one semester and came out of it with A’s and B’s.
I plan to go on and be a composer after college and I could really use the counsel of a veteran such as you. If you would allow me to visit with you for even a few hours it would be greatly appreciated.
It may sound strange but I think I have something to offer you in the way of new ideas. One is an elaboration on the principle of Ruth Seeger’s contrapuntal dynamics and the other is an extension of the twelve-tone technique which I call the inversion square. It enables one to compose harmonically constructed pantonal music in logical patterns and progressions while still abandoning tonality.
Would you please reply as soon as possible because I will not be here much longer. My address here is 4803 Loch Raven Blvd., Baltimore Maryland. Phone Hopkins 77336. Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Frank Zappa Jr.
[1957]
from Edgard Varèse, Composer, Sound Sculptor, Visionary (ed. F. Meyer and H. Zimmerman, Suffolk, Boydell 2006).
I love that young Zappa wrote to Varèse and struck up a friendship. When Steve Vai was studying at Berkley, he came across a score that he had read Zappa wanted. He made a copy of said score, and sent it along with his transcription of Zappa’s The Black Page and a cassette of him playing. He might have called Zappa – I’m typing this from memory, so the details might be inaccurate. Maybe that’s why Steve was so generous as to help me, too. It certainly set me up as a young man.
Some many years later, though several careers, homes, and musical wanderings, I find myself still obsessed with guitar. I’m fortunate to own a few Ibanez guitars, including a JEM and a Pia.
I love all of this. Thanks for reading, if you made it this far!
Following my intermittent practice of year’s end posts, I want to express gratitude for the great parts of 2022. And what a year it was!
I’m wrapping up my first year on Patreon. I’m honored to have had folks join me there, watch my videos, and follow along with me as I worked my way through 2022.
Sweaty Eyeballs: Behind the Screens was an exhibition at Goucher College of animated works and the materials involved with making them. I love this festival, and it was an honor and thrill to be included in this show. I made several new films this year, including Plasticland and the Lunatics. I picked up a couple of awards, too!
I’ve written (and talked on Patreon) about the reemergence of music in my life over the pandemic. I’ve been “finding my note,” as Steve Vai likes to say.
Which means, a unique-to-me musical voice and identity. As I delved deeper into film work, I wanted to get better at improvising, with the idea that I could set up a projector in a gallery (or somewhere) and make an accompaniment to go with the videos.
I reached out to my favorite drummer, Billy Martin, and asked for help. He agreed, and I spent an afternoon in his New Jersey home studio. It was one of the greatest musical moments of my life to play drums and guitar with one of my musical heroes.
Billy explained that improvisation, in essence, is something you just do. There are exercises and things one can do to help facilitate this, but it’s very different from what I learned in my academic studies. He shared stories, techniques, recordings and books with me, and I will be grateful to him forever. Thank you, brother!
I released three new recordings this year. The Goldberg Variations, The Old San Juan and Found and Chosen. I received a creativity grant from the Maryland State Arts Council to print physical copies of Found and Chosen.
Found and Chosen is an extremely satisfying project, and the physical copies of the recordings are something I had dreamed up back in the early 00’s. And aside from having tape loops and CD audio to loop, it stands as some personal documentation of the pandemic, and ways I coped with uncertainty and anxiety.
I also did a few gigs with Coastguard, and really enjoyed getting my chops back. It’s helped me a lot when recording drums here.
As I continue to explore signal processing and improvising, I decided to write a small program that randomly assigns effects for me to play through. It’s an interesting constraint, and I’ve found it to be a useful device for getting myself going in a different direction.
I spent many, many hours in the basement working with loops and new-to-me guitar pedals. I’m especially fond of these new additions:
My oldest daughter took us to several great shows: The Queers, The Old 97’s, The Psychedelic Furs. I enjoyed it so much. And my youngest and I went to see the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra perform Symphonie Fantastique, something neither of us had done before.
I feel fortunate to have been able to explore these musical pathways. I got out in front of audiences again. Adding the adventure of improvisation brings with it a sense of freedom now. I’m not sure how much I’ll be improvising in front of other humans yet, but it’s becoming a source of real delight here in my studio.
Beverly and I traveled to Puerto Rico, New York (twice), and Cape Cod. We visited Edward Gorey’s house. And we’ve agreed to spend the rest of our lives together. I am so happy!
I’ve written about a couple of other milestones, too. Inspired by Beverly’s example, I got to run across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and we completed a half marathon just two weeks later. Holy Guacamole!
Beverly and I wrapped up year two of our book club. Here are the titles I read this year:
What’s next? Aside from more of all this, I’m returning to teaching. I’ve picked up a couple of classes for the spring semester. I’d like to finish Music to Hear Blindfolded, Vol. 2. and I have an idea for an album of instrumental guitar music. I have some animation ideas for 2023, and more video/music compositions. I’m going to continue to pursue animation festival screenings, and to hone my processes for making films.
Happy 2023, friends. I hope this finds you happy, healthy and prosperous.
