Thursday, February 25, 2016

Frank & Bacon

If you think this is gonna be about your favorite pork product, I'll tell ya now...it's not.

I was supposed to be sitting in at a friend's gig tonight but...family stuff. Nuff said. Got to spend some quality home time instead, which I'll take any day.

At one point this evening, conversation led me to thinking about an old friend of not only mine but our entire family, John "Bacon" Adams.

I never knew why his nickname was Bacon. Might have been because he was a chunky dude. Not fat but he had an obvious affinity for carbs. I'll tell you this, and I mean it as no insult to my brothers, Bacon was the big brother I looked up to.

If you ever wondered how I learned to play guitar, you can thank Bacon...but I'll get to that in a minute.

Bacon was seriously one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to know. Friendly, outgoing, athletic, fun to be around. He was the sort of guy who would give you his last dime. He definitely liked a good time, and this was eventually his downfall.

He loved music. When I was 11 or so and first started to play guitar, he gave me an old Beatles record, and a few months later, after deciding I was ready for it, gave me a copy of Jimi Hendrix's 'Electric Ladyland' record. Mind blown? Damned straight!

As I struggled through teaching myself chords from an old folk guitar book, I'd listen to those records and wonder just what the hell they were doing to make them sound so amazing. Bacon started introducing me to more and more blues records - BB King, John Lee Hooker, and a lot of funk. I took it all in.

I wanted to play everything. I attempted to build a drum kit out of old pretzel tins. I finally got my hands on a used Slingerland kit, courtesy of one of my sister's boyfriends. $110! I mowed a lot of lawns to get that! For my birthday, my parents got me my very own electric guitar, a Fender Musicmaster. I tried everything I could to make it sound like what I heard on records...but I was missing that magic.

One day, Bacon and another guy, Frank Prolago, were over visiting my oldest brother. They heard me in the basement and came down and changed my life forever. Bacon could play a little bit...nothing flashy but like I said, he knew how to have fun. His friend Frank, now that guy could play and could play any instrument! He sat down at those drums like he owned them. He played my guitar like a King. I was mesmerized. The two said that they'd come by later on in the week and show me how to really play. I couldn't wait!

The next time they came over, Frank had his guitar and Bacon brought his, a beautiful old Guild Starfire 3. Damn, I loved that guitar. They sat me down and taught me how to play some simple 2 and 3 chord blues rhythms. Then they gave me the greatest lesson of my life: they taught me to improvise.

Neither were trained musicians. Frank could hear a song once and play it on any instrument. He was really that good. Bacon, his talents were limited by comparison but he knew how to have fun with it.

They showed me how to start a solo. They showed me certain 'shapes' where I could play something that sounded reasonable. They taught me that if I hit the wrong note, to just bend it until it sounded right. Somewhere is an old cassette tape of the 3 of us playing. I'd love to hear it again...but I remember every note by heart.

A few weeks later, Bacon came by the house with his Guild. He decided to loan it to me for a while. I was in awe! This was a REAL guitar. This was something a pro would use. Sure, it was almost a dozen years old at that time and had a few scratches on it (which my dad fixed) but damn, it was an amazing guitar! It sounded like nothing I ever heard...before or since. I could get Beatles sounds out of it, blues sounds, even Joe Negri jazz sounds, even if I couldn't play any jazz chords. The tone was in there! I had that guitar for about two years and played the hell out of it!

The three of us would often get together and they'd teach me more. One of my brothers had an old electric bass and they showed me some bluesy bass lines. They taught me about I-IV-V progressions, one of my first real AHA! moments. I still couldn't figure out what the hell Hendrix was doing. I mentioned having seen the concert film of the Monterey Pop Festival and how absolutely amazing Jimi Hendrix was. His version of "Wild Thing" almost ruined me. I knew it was just 3 chords but damn...it was like something from another planet when he played it. That was when they taught me "the Hendrix chord". I thought I was the baddest know-it-all lil sumbitch in the world at that point.

As we got older, Frank and Bacon didn't come around much anymore. They were both partying a lot. I remember running into them one afternoon and they were both obviously wasted. Bacon lectured me that the only wine to drink was some cheap swill he was swigging from a bottle in a paper bag. It kinda broke my heart to see him like that. He eventually had to take the Guild back. I was worried he was going to pawn it. To my knowledge, he didn't...although no one knows what happened to it.

A few years later, Bacon stopped by the house. He was so happy with himself. He had stopped drinking and doing drugs. He had lost weight and was really cleaning up his act. I remember how proud my dad seemed of this turn of events. Even my grandmother and auntie were thrilled. That's how Bacon was. His personality was infectious.

Less than a year later, I remember coming home one day, my best friend Paul with me. We hadn't been in the house 30 seconds when my dad asked Paul to go upstairs and wait for me...he had something serious to talk to me about. In my mind, I was trying to think what rotten thing I'd done and had been found out this time, and how much trouble I was going to be in. Dad took me into the living room, had me sit down...and told me that Bacon had died. He had gone out with some friends, had made the decision to 'party' a little bit...and long story short, his body couldn't handle the drugs anymore. His mother had found him in bed the next day. He'd died in his sleep. I was crushed.

I rarely ever saw Frank after that. I have no idea whatever happened to him. To this day, I think of those two every time I pick up a guitar. I especially think of Bacon. I remember thinking about him as I stood onstage in Narooma, NSW in Australia, playing my first show there. I couldn't help but chuckle to think how Bacon would have reacted. I think he'd be proud. At one point, I remember playing a chord he taught me...and he was with me for a brief moment onstage...10,000 miles from where we grew up, playing to thousands of screaming fans.

Like I said, I was supposed to be sitting in tonight at a friend's gig...but like I said, family stuff. Family comes first. Music a close second. I'll be playing the blues this weekend...and I can guarantee you, I'll be thinking of Frank and Bacon. Mostly Bacon. I wish he could be there to hear me play.  I wish I could thank him for all he taught me about music and life in general. In the scheme of things, I didn't know him very long...but sometimes all it takes is one moment to change a life.

Friday, February 19, 2016

America Town

Some years back, I read an article about a TV show in the works called America Town. To my knowledge, it never happened...and I can't find the article or any other mention of it on the internet. The concept was probably too realistic and terrifying for American viewers.

In a nutshell, the premise was simple: mid 21st century, in a large city in some other country. The once United States of America had finally imploded and the majority of it's remaining citizens living their worst nightmare. Many had escaped, emigrating to other countries, looking for a better life. These migrants clustered together in America Town...a ghetto neighborhood in a foreign, formerly friendly land.

Imagine the American version of Chinatown or Little Italy. Fat, badly dressed Yanks and Seppos living in slums, selling hot dogs and other classic American cuisine from pushcarts or small, family-owned eateries. From their windows, one can hear the strains of "America The Beautiful" or some other long-forgotten melody. The 4th of July is just another day. Their kids are trying to just be part of the crowd, but they carry with them the stigma of their parents' homeland. The other kids tease them. Cultural slurs are tossed about.

It can't happen. Or can it?

Look around you. We're on our way.

This country doesn't really produce much, and what we do, we outsource to other countries. MADE IN THE USA doesn't mean much these days.

Our rich get richer off of the backs of the rest of us. One day, someone will have had ENOUGH, and the first shots will be fired in an effective direction. The target will be a CEO, politician, banker, etc. It will ignite a spark in the masses and all Hell is going to break loose - a civil war unlike anything the world has ever seen. Americans do everything bigger.

Living in Prague or Paris or Rio, "Press 1 for English" will no longer be an option. We'll be the ones trying to take the jobs...just to feed and house our families. We won't understand why everyone hates us. We'll be forced to rely on each other while we attempt to assimilate to life in our new homelands.

How many of you know someone already considering leaving the country? How many have already done so? How many more have tried and failed?

Think this can't happen? Again, look around. Land of the free? Free to do what? Work long hours at a job you hate, earning just enough to keep you there a little while longer, until 20 years of your life is gone. You can't afford school...you're still paying off your old school loans. Everything you buy, regardless of the cost, is essentially disposable - by design - so you'll have to replace it, and spend more money.

You're taught to hate the wrong people. It's a con job. You're taught to hate the poor, not the people and corporations making them poor and keeping them that way. You're taught to hate and fear immigrants who might take YOUR job, but not the employer who will happily hire them to keep profits high. You're taught to hate anyone who differs from YOU. You're convinced to build walls but not bridges. You're convinced we need bombs more than schools. You're convinced to eat garbage.

It's what you'll miss the most living in America Town.