How to Rock

My entire relationship with my father was glued together with music and he always paid attention to whatever I was digging on.  This is not to say that we shared musical interests wholly but we were constantly volleying new discoveries.  For instance, he wasn't into rap and hip-hop really, whereas I and pretty much everyone else my age were just blanketed in it by the radio and MTV when we were growing up.  I don't think it's something he related to or understood in any way.  On the same token, I could've cared less about his Boz Scaggs and Steely Dan at that time.

I'd just finished the second grade and was en route to my first concert with my dad.  He knew that I was really into The B-52's and jumped on the opportunity to introduce me to the rock concert culture and, more specifically, SPAC.  I don't remember what I was wearing or who other than my dad was with us but I can tell you that I was excited the second we pulled into a parking space.  It was really happening.

I do remember that the opener was Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers, who brought out an entire chorus of children on one of their last songs.  This night was also the first time of many that my dad would make up some story for the security guard in an effort to get us better seats.  I have no clue how the fuck he did it but it worked ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OF THE TIME.  He'd act kind of panicked, point at me and then mumble something about "his mother is down there" or "he just threw his hat down there and I have to get it".  He would then give them a look that I knew all too well.  It was the "Try and stop me motherfucker" look and believe me, you didn't want to be  on the other end of that stare.  It was more powerful than any word in any language.  Needless to say, that act got me front row seats for any act we attended.

As I sat on his shoulders in the second row, I watched in awe of Fred Schneider and Kate Pierson. The band was having the best time of their lives and so was anyone within a square mile.  I looked around at all the people in the crowd and they were pulsating and sweating and singing.  You could tell that their minds and bodies were in two different places, perhaps even universes apart.

I think that's when I truly realized the power of music.  Sure, the individuals of the band enjoyed playing their respective instruments for their own reasons but what they did when they got together was for everyone else.  They were offering a relief, an escape, a refuge even if for only a few hours.

After that night, I knew that I wanted to play music.  I wanted to play so I could provide an escape, for myself and anyone else who needed it.  If this was a way that I could make people feel good, then I wanted to do it because it made me feel good too.

So, my dad never actually played an instrument but he taught me how to rock before I even picked up my first air guitar.  For that, I will be thankful for the rest of my days on Earth.