11/6/22
Newletter150
The Crack of Dawn
I find it interesting that other people’s stray comments, that they absolutely don’t remember saying, become indelible in our minds. There’s a groundhog in my neighborhood that I see all the time. It’s burrowed under my lawn and seems to enjoy hanging around in my backyard. My sister saw it once and said, “Look, it’s a beaver.” From then on the groundhog has been Mr. Beaver to me. When I see it in my yard, I wave and say, “Hello, Mr. Beaver.”
My buddy, Joe LoDuca, is a film composer, but first he was (and is) a jazz guitarist. I have come to understand that jazz musicians have a basic disdain for rock musicians. Rock musicians use 3-4 chords; jazz musicians use all the chords. Over our 40 year friendship I have randomly asked Joe his highly-tuned opinion of many guitarists. I asked him what he thought about Lindsey Buckingham of Fleetwood Mac, and Joe replied, “It’s not as hard as he makes it look.” I once said, “I think Jimi Hendrix has a completely unique sound.” Joe replied, “For a three-note guitarist.” The great jazz drummer, Buddy Rich, once said, “If you can’t play your instrument, join a rock band.”
Back in 1990, I was speaking to my mother on the phone and she asked, “Have you seen Pretty Woman?” I said, “Yeah, I didn’t like it.” With a tone of righteous indignation, my beloved mother said, “If you don’t like Pretty Woman you’ll never make a movie that makes money.” My own mother put a curse on me.
Maybe eight years ago Bob Dylan had a radio show for two years on Sirius called Theme Time Radio Hour that I really enjoyed. Bob really knows his music and rarely if ever played a song I’d ever heard before. Anyway, my dad dropped over while Dylan was on, and I said, “Sit down. Listen to this for a minute.” My dad sat there with a serious expression, apparently paying close attention, then finally said, “He’s got a funny voice.” Now I can’t hear Bob Dylan speak without thinking that.
My old girlfriend, Lisa, is a big Bob Dylan fan and dragged me to see him twice. So, we were at Freedom Hill, a concert venue here in the Detroit metropolitan area, seeing Dylan and we went to the bar to get a drink. There’s a long walkway to the bar’s front door. As Lisa and I walked up the completely vacant walkway toward the bar, Bob Seger exited the bar. As we approached each other, Lisa whispered to me, “Is that Bob Seger?” I said yes just as he passed us. Lisa turned and screamed as loud as she could, “Bob, I love you!” Bob Seger did not turn around, he just kept walking.
Letting one memory flow into the next, when I was in 6th grade – in 1969 – my buddies and I loved Iggy & The Stooges, a local Detroit band, and we’d come home from school every day and listen to their first album over and over again. We couldn’t get enough of the song, I Wanna Be Your Dog. The kinda sorta local hit on the album was, coincidentally, 1969, which is a good song.
25 years later I found myself co-starring in a movie, Mosquito (1994), doing a lengthy dialogue scene with the late Ron Ashton, lead guitarist of The Stooges (which later became Iggy & The Stooges). Ron’s and my scene was so good that it can be found in the “Extras” section of the Mosquito DVD because it was edited out of the movie.
And that’s the rest of the story.