There’s a big world out there, and remember, when one door closes, another opens... (Pt.1.)

“My axe in the sun”

Photo Credit: Mike Stolberg

(Part 1)

It was 1984 and my journey to becoming a rockstar took some interesting twists and turns, and almost encountered yet another dead end.

It had been over a year since my last guitar lesson and I couldn’t play anything other than an Em7(add 4) chord.  To add insult to injury, our new music teacher asked me not to participate in our school’s choir performance and field trip that year.  She later explained to my bewildered parents that I just sang too low and off key.  Seriously, true story.

Arguably, 1984 was a truly watershed year in regards to all things entertainment, the cultural output of which would have a lasting impact on me.  First of all, everyone made it through 1983, another truly memorable year, when ten-year-olds like me were often informed that red skies and mushroom clouds could soon appear on the horizon.  “Shall we play a game?”  Could our Atari 2600’s and Commodore 64’s really spark Nuclear Armageddon?  Would we all be vaporized?  Author’s Note: Thank you ABC. Those “x-ray-like” skeletons in your program “The Day After” are burned in my memory.  

Whoops!

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Fortunately, we made it out alive.  On that note, it has been written that “the more things change, the more they stay the same”.  Looking at our world today, I would definitely agree.  But I digress. 

Back in 1984, things were looking up, at least in my little corner of the world.  This was the time when my decade-long dance with “The Beautiful Game” would begin and when I also mastered some totally rad tricks on my Raleigh BMX.  1984 was when I became lifelong friends with Ren McCormack, Officers Jones, Mahoney and Tackleberry, Daniel LaRusso, Professors Venkman, Stantz, and Spengler, and later, the one and only, Axel Foley. 

In addition to one day becoming a rockstar, my weekly television viewing in 1984 sparked a keen interest in me one day piloting supersonic helicopters.  And, I’m not sure there were ever two personas in contemporary pop culture as eternally cool and boss as Sonny Crockett and Rico Tubbs. Author’s Note: Maybe an “overshare” here, but I have to listen to my Jan Hammer playlist at least once anytime I cross into the Sunshine State. 

As a burgeoning rockstar, 1984 was definitely all about the music for me, including the music videos that played prominently and frequently on MTV.  In retrospect, this was the year that I left the “aural nest” of my parents to go forth and discover my own musical tastes; there’s a big world out there…

My musical palate was definitely changing and becoming more diverse.  In addition to my steady diet of Hard Rock and Metal (the latter of which my parents were not particularly fond of), along with occasional bites of synth-driven Pop and New Wave, I had a growing appetite for Hip-Hop.  This genre not only brought a new focus on lyrics, syncopation, and phonetic delivery (which I loved), it also brought awesome physicality, especially in forms of dance.  While I couldn’t do Windmills like a few of my friends could, I finally learned the Worm (we called it the “Centipede”) and even learned to Moonwalk and Sideglide, all to the sounds of “I Feel for You” and “Jam on It”. 

Yet, with all of my new personal interests, something about “wielding the axe” fascinated me, connected with me.  I remember wanting to crash through the ceiling and shred on the dining room table like Warren DeMartini or to stand in the spotlight and play a killer opening riff like Angus Young.  I was hooked.  The problem was, I just couldn’t play the d@#% thing. 

So, there I was, standing at a musical crossroads.  I couldn’t play the guitar and apparently, also didn’t sing very well.  The odds of me ever taking the main stage were quickly fading.  The stage door was closing.  But what my teachers didn’t know and my friends did was that I could generate a wide array of tones, noises, and sounds with my mouth.  While not to the level of the great Michael Winslow, a couple of years later, I did manage to imitate our school’s staticky intercom and successfully called our elderly history teacher to the principal’s office on a couple of occasions.  Seriously, another true story.  A new door was opening and I was on my way to becoming somewhat of a sonic legend.

To be continued…

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