Ozric
New member
My apologies for hijacking the contest thread. Didn't mean to. Just frickin' LOVE music (in addition to smoked meat 
)!
To provide a bit of continuity...
To be clear on that wonderful night at the Plugged Nickel...
I had NO idea of who was playing, or what type of music they were playing. I had gotten hooked on delta blues when I was 11 (I was always sneaking out and taking the bus down to Gaslight Square in St. Louis to listen to the live blues (sitting OUTSIDE of the clubs on benches)). A couple of years later, after moving to Wisconsin, I came across Chicago blues.
The blues were my secret, something I could never talk about at home. Daddy was a conservative country preacher who tried to beat the love of Jesus into me (and failed; sorry if that offends you). Mama (dear woman) was the church organist. So, I grew up on church music. But I was a rebel, even in childhood. I used to hang outside of the Southern Baptist church down the road and listen to them sing. Wowzers, was that some awesome gospel singing. I compared that to what I was living with basically 24/7 and realized that there was an entire other world out there, one I didn't know much about, but one that I was damn sure going to learn about.
Well, it wasn't just one other world, it was the indescribable number of realities that I came across that blew me away as a child. The only way I could transcend those realities, and make them all my own, was through music...music made me FEEL. Different music made me feel differently. No words necessary.
I started piano lessons when I was 5. At 10, I started studies under the soloist for the St. Louis Philharmonic (1961). So, 100% classical there.
NOTE: To be complete, I must admit to having access to some wonderful music from the late 30s and early 40s. This was back in the day of bound 78 rpm disks, where each side gave you 10-12 minutes of mono music. Symphonies and operas and the like took many disks, which were bound book-like, with sleeves for each disk (Smyth Sewn probably). Well, my parents had a collection; can't imagine where it came from, because they never bought ANY music. Buried in that collection were a couple of 78 rpm albums of 30s and 40s pop tunes, so I KNEW that what I was being told wasn't the whole story.
So, I get to St. Louis from central Texas, and learn of delta blues. OK, that got me hook, line and sinker. Three years later, after a move to Wisconsin, I learn Chicago blues. Wow! From Mississippi John Hurt to Buddy Guy in one fell swoop. But not leaving one behind for the other. Just adding to the inventory!
Now, it's a couple of years later. I'm in Chicago for Christmas 1965. I want to hear some Chicago blues. So I snuck out. Took the train downtown and went to Old Town on Wells, looking for some blues.
That's the incredible point. I was 14 years old. I was looking for blues. I had never heard the word jazz (one of the downsides of a "protected" childhood), much less any of the names of the current performers. So I slide into this place called the Plugged Nickel, expecting to hear some Chicago blues. Nope. Just a bunch of guys I'd never heard of before, playing music unlike anything I'd ever heard before.
I'll take some photos of my music collection and post them. That'll give you an idea of just how life-changing that night was.
I can't imagine being deaf. The loss of music would be like the loss of life.
)!To provide a bit of continuity...
To be clear on that wonderful night at the Plugged Nickel...
I had NO idea of who was playing, or what type of music they were playing. I had gotten hooked on delta blues when I was 11 (I was always sneaking out and taking the bus down to Gaslight Square in St. Louis to listen to the live blues (sitting OUTSIDE of the clubs on benches
)). A couple of years later, after moving to Wisconsin, I came across Chicago blues.The blues were my secret, something I could never talk about at home. Daddy was a conservative country preacher who tried to beat the love of Jesus into me (and failed; sorry if that offends you). Mama (dear woman) was the church organist. So, I grew up on church music. But I was a rebel, even in childhood. I used to hang outside of the Southern Baptist church down the road and listen to them sing. Wowzers, was that some awesome gospel singing. I compared that to what I was living with basically 24/7 and realized that there was an entire other world out there, one I didn't know much about, but one that I was damn sure going to learn about.
Well, it wasn't just one other world, it was the indescribable number of realities that I came across that blew me away as a child. The only way I could transcend those realities, and make them all my own, was through music...music made me FEEL. Different music made me feel differently. No words necessary.
I started piano lessons when I was 5. At 10, I started studies under the soloist for the St. Louis Philharmonic (1961). So, 100% classical there.
NOTE: To be complete, I must admit to having access to some wonderful music from the late 30s and early 40s. This was back in the day of bound 78 rpm disks, where each side gave you 10-12 minutes of mono music. Symphonies and operas and the like took many disks, which were bound book-like, with sleeves for each disk (Smyth Sewn probably). Well, my parents had a collection; can't imagine where it came from, because they never bought ANY music. Buried in that collection were a couple of 78 rpm albums of 30s and 40s pop tunes, so I KNEW that what I was being told wasn't the whole story.
So, I get to St. Louis from central Texas, and learn of delta blues. OK, that got me hook, line and sinker. Three years later, after a move to Wisconsin, I learn Chicago blues. Wow! From Mississippi John Hurt to Buddy Guy in one fell swoop. But not leaving one behind for the other. Just adding to the inventory!
Now, it's a couple of years later. I'm in Chicago for Christmas 1965. I want to hear some Chicago blues. So I snuck out. Took the train downtown and went to Old Town on Wells, looking for some blues.
That's the incredible point. I was 14 years old. I was looking for blues. I had never heard the word jazz (one of the downsides of a "protected" childhood), much less any of the names of the current performers. So I slide into this place called the Plugged Nickel, expecting to hear some Chicago blues. Nope. Just a bunch of guys I'd never heard of before, playing music unlike anything I'd ever heard before.
I'll take some photos of my music collection and post them. That'll give you an idea of just how life-changing that night was.
I can't imagine being deaf. The loss of music would be like the loss of life.
