I've got the blues...

I've got me a guitar. I've visited Youtube and viewed grainy video lessons presented by oily faced teenagers sitting in front of their iMacs offering to teach the Pentatonic blues scales, 12 bar riffs and BB King signature licks. I've downloaded several Midi files featuring mechanical, digitally reproduced backing tracks complete with synthesized horn sections, bass lines and perfectly syncopated drum kits. I am, essentially, a one-man garage band. I'm ready to take it up a notch. I'm going to form a band.

I played in a band in high school that never really amounted to anything. Of course, our first line of business was to name the band. We settled on "Caution" because of the endless possible album titles (I.e. "Caution: Deaf Child" or "Caution: Wet Panties") We practiced sporadically in our drummer's basement and, to my recollection, never played in front of people. Our set-list consisted of the first forty seconds of several popular tunes of the day (late 1980s), "Getting Better" by Tesla in its entirety, and a twenty-three minute version of "Wipeout" where every band member played a solo.

The Caution line-up was a mix of clearly talented musicians and those of us who really liked the idea of being musicians. I played bass guitar (poorly) and had made a suggestion that, for the sake of establishing a Rock-n-Roll persona, I should be referred to as Blotto. The idea never really took off, which in hind sight was probably for the best. You can't give yourself a nickname. Nicknames must be earned so as to avoid any sign of pretense. As we all know, Rock-n-Roll mixed with pretense is a recipe for disaster.

The rest of the band included Scotty on rhythm guitar, Dan on lead guitar and Shad on drums. For about six minutes in 1988, we had a singer named Terry. Between Scotty, Terry and me, there was great desire to be in a band but not much by way of talent or courage. To rock, one must have either talent or courage. The truly remarkable rockers, the professional rockers, have both. When it came to actual rocking, Dan and Shad had the most potential.

Dan showed talent in his guitar playing, but more than that he was fearless. Dan took musical risks that, at times, were tortuous and amateur, leaving the rest of the band looking as if we'd sucked every last bit of juice from a lemon. Rather than acknowledging the sour tones coming from his 50 Watt Marshall, Dan would press on as if nothing had happened. Don't get me wrong, Dan played quite well, especially for a guy who never had taken one lesson nor had the luxury of the internet. I have no idea if he ever capitalized on his talent or played in front of an audience.

Shad was probably the most talented member of Caution. He was impressive, not just in his playing ability which was remarkable, but also in his style. He would destroy his "Wipeout" solos and move straight back into the verse without missing a beat. Then, during the more repetitive and (for lack of a better term) boring drumming parts, Shad would twirl a stick or swing his arm behind his head just like Tommy Lee. Shad was more polished than the rest of us. So, it's no surprise that he was the one that actually went on to become a bona fide rocker, playing in a few bands that played at real venues in front of real people. I envy him for that.

I'm forty-years old now and inspired to play real music at real venues in front of real people. I don't necessarily have any more talent than I had in 1988, but the years I've gained have brought courage with them. Courage might be enough. I'm going to form a blues band. I want to practice in someone's basement for a while and play more than the first forty seconds of several songs. I can envision myself and two or three other musicians in a smoky (well, not anymore, I suppose) bar, collaborating to create deep and soulful music. I'm ready to stand up in front of strangers, and have hot six-stringed sex with them.

Of course, there's every reason to believe that this is a matter of mid-life crisis and that I'm merely rekindling a lost dream of my youth, but a blues band is cheaper and less dangerous than a sports car.