Music lessons

My love of music has always been with me. Mum tells a story of me grabbing a portable record player in the early 70's; the sound of the Monkees racing up and down the halls of the house on a Sunday morning. A regular early wake up call in those days - I was about four I think.

Hey, hey, we're the Monkees
And people say we monkey around.
But we're too busy singing
To put anybody down

When we were in the Cook Islands in the mid 70's my Dad brought a 3 in 1 Stereo system - a tape/record player/radio combo, and amongst the few records he had, I discovered the Beatles.

Bright are the stars that shine,
Dark is the sky,
I know this love of mine,
Will never die,
And I love her.

When we moved back to New Zealand around 1976, music was much more accessible. My folks paid for piano lessons - I still remember the winters at 7am in the morning, cycling to see Sister Mary Zita through the frosty streets; a Nun who tried to foster a love of classical music, a serious task given the student was more interested in Kiss or Meatloaf.
When she fell ill with cancer, Sister Mary Patrick took over. I suppose she found me to be a tougher prospect; we just never clicked - to her music was a completely different beast. I left after another year, disillusioned with the piano, and the possibility of never playing a musical instrument. Nuns can do that to you.

My saving grace was a good musical ear. In the seventh form I picked up the old school bass guitar and ended up playing in the school jazz band - always learning the songs by rote. When Jonathon Wood (a fellow student) showed me the relationship between a piano keyboard and a bass fretboard, a light went off in this "scientists" brain. To this day that light is still there, burning just as bright, my savior on a cloudy day.

Years long gone, memories of my parents new upgraded 3 in 1 stereo system are fresh in my mind. Learning songs with my headphones on and my guitar plugged in I later used all my pocket money to buy an amplifier - only to find it amplified all the mistakes as well. So many wasted years, so many blisters yet to come. But all great fun.

Today, as I glance away from my iMac screen, I see a not only a bass guitar, but also an acoustic 6 string, and to keep them both company, a mint Black USA Fender Strat. Twenty four years of music; I still can't walk into a room with a guitar, without picking it up.
Music is a serious addiction; the thought that I'd be here today without music in my life, is foreign to me.

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time

Some things remain the same tho. That same old amplifier sits in the corner of room, a little worn and scuffed but still amplifying those damn mistakes. But music, like life, is a work in progress I guess.