My 16th New Years Eve

When I was sixteen I had wheels, a girlfriend and played in a garage band. I still had to argue with the "P's" about the length of my hair, and I still had a curfew, but all in all the future looked bright.

On New Years Eve, that year (the first New Years Eve I recall spent with peers rather than family) I played with the garage band (aka the "Thirteenth Hour" and sometimes, the "Soul Generation") at the battle of the bands at a local non alcoholic nightclub for teenagers. We had rehearsed for months and played at half a dozen high school dances in preparation for this night. I remember that we waled to a full club at just before midnight as we side-stepped in rhythm to our first tune, Land of a Thousand Dances.

Granted, we were out of the ordinary for the times. Most garage bands then were made up of two or even three guitars, a singer and a drummer. Sometimes there was a key board player, but that was rare. The typical group established its credibility long before playing a note by attitude and hair length, and usually covered a series of three chord rock songs with loud and long lead guitar solos. The more sophisticated bands added harmony.

Our group had the basic instrumentation, but we also added two screaming trumpets, an alto and tenor sax, and our claim to fame, a girl drummer.

Because of our instrumentation, we could play a wider selection of music, and so even though we could play the easier three chord tunes when requested, we focused on more soulful selections. In the right venue, there is nothing that can move your body to dance better than a tune played with tight rhythm articulated by crisp horns. Live, unadulterated brass and reed harmony straight from the source without the need for any amplification penetrates your soul.

I will say that even though Papa ragged me at least once week about hair length, we were all begrudgingly more clean cut in appearance than the average garage band of that era because of dress code established by our high school vice principal. As a result, to establish our stage presence, we relied on the fact that we each played some form of music probably three or four hours every day, and practiced in my garage almost every week. Our garage rehearsals became sort of a block party attended by our peers from the neighborhood, and this New Years Eve performance was most certainly the apex of our year (and maybe of that entire era).

More to come.