April 22, 2024

One of my very first sports heroes was Roman Gabriel. This is way back, like in first or second grade. My Dad took me to a few Rams games, and - because legends tend to grow -  I like to say that I once saw him throw the ball the length of the field, 100 yards. I don't know if anyone can do that, but if anyone could it would've been Roman Gabriel, aka "The World's Biggest Filipino" (according to Dad). Boy, did he have an arm. And the Rams QB/Receiver team of Gabriel to Jack Snow was unbeatable. R.I.P. Roman Gabriel, NFL MVP 1969. Go Rams, always.

In addition to Roman, we must bid farewell to Dickey Betts, guitarist for The Allman Brothers, who wrote some of their most iconic tunes. One of the first albums I ever bought was "Brothers and Sisters. In 1973, "Ramblin' Man" was all over the radio. I loved that descending slide lick in the outro, it almost sounds like an air raid siren. At the time, I didn't know anything about the legendary Duane Allman, didn't know he'd died and that this was their first album without him, so the Allman guitarist I became familiar with was Dickey Betts, and I thought he was incredible - his leads were so melodic. We were talking guitar solos in the last blog: check out Dickey's playing on "Blue Sky", a favorite of mine and one of the sweetest songs ever written. Then listen to the instrumental "In Memory of Elizabeth Reed" from the album "Idlewild South". It sounds like progressive rock. Betts' most famous instrumental was "Jessica", with it's honey-toned guitar lines. One thing I always mention about guitar is that, in the heyday of lead playing, the greats all had their own signature sound and style. Dickey Betts was a prime example. Three notes into any of his solos and you know it's him.  Shecky was a huge Allman Brothers fan (his favorite band) and rarely a Disturbing the Peace rehearsal would pass where he didn't mention Duane Allman, his #1 guitarist. With Sheck, it was "Duane" this, "Duane" that. And I know Duane was incredible, but my guy in the Bros was Dickey Betts. He's in that Blue Sky now. R.I.P. and thanks for the music.  

Let's take a quick look at some of the greatest guitar solos of all-time:

1) "Burn" (Ritchie Blackmore) 

2) "Comfortably Numb" (David Gilmour)

3) "Rock Bottom" (Michael Schenker)

4) "When the Sun Meets the Sky" (Eric Johnson)

5) "Still So Many Lives Away" (Uli Jon Roth)

6) "Wurm" (Steve Howe)

7) "Crying To The Sky" (Bill Nelson)

8) "Limelight" (Alex Lifeson)

9) "Something" (George Harrison)

10) "Beyond the Realms of Death" (Glenn Tipton)

Of course, Jimi and Jimmy Page should be on there, and high up, with the solos from "Watchtower" and "Stairway". Many fans would place those in the top five solos of all time and I wouldn't disagree. My list is just my personal favorites. Some will ask why no EVH, and that's because he did not solo in the classic sense but rather colored the songs with brief "lead breaks" throughout, an entirely different approach. Conversely, "Eruption" cannot properly be considered a solo because it is a complete composition. A classic guitar solo "takes flight" off of a crescendoed vocal line - it takes the melody of that line, reinterprets it, and sends it soaring beyond its initial crescendo to create a "climactic effect", after which the song descends back into the third verse or a bridge into that verse.

A few more great ones: "Cigarettes" (Ty Tabor), "Lady Fantasy" (Andrew Latimer), "Supernaut" (Tony Iommi), "Blue Sky" (Dickey Betts), "White Room" (Eric Clapton). If you are a fan of guitar, you no doubt have favorites of your own.

A note on Clapton: because Cream debuted at the same time as Jimi, and because Clapton went through stylistic changes over the years resulting from the breakup of Cream and massive substance abuse, he kind of gets lost in what I will call the "legacy shuffle", especially compared to his contemporary Jimi Hendrix, who unfortunately died, but one benefit for Jimi in that respect is that, like James Dean, his image in carved in stone, never to be watered down. Jimi will always be, for many, the unchallenged God of Guitar. But Clapton deserves equal merit, I think, especially when you consider that "Clapton is God" was actually a slogan at the time (for a reason) and Clapton's era as a Guitar God paralleled Jimi's, roughly 1967 to 69. And Clapton actually recorded first with John Mayall.

But the thing with Eric Clapton was.....that tone. It's so thick and choked, and buzzing like a bumblebee with a horn. We talk about "making your guitar talk", making it say something (because that's what it wants you to do), and on those Cream records EC is doing it. He called it his "Woman Tone" (ladies, don't blame the messenger), but whatever it is, it means business. At the time, no one had ever made a guitar sound like that, and no one has since. He also "shredded" his Cream solos with a minimum of notes, and yet it still sounds like he's shredding because of the double tracked solos and his phrasing. And his bends and use of wah-wah. Listen also to the choppy riffing on "Sunshine of Your Love" and "Swlabr", and of course the classic "Crossroads". The guy was a monster, way back in 1967-68, years ahead of his time. Since the late 70s, he's known as a laid-back AOR king who plays some good blues licks in concert, but holy smokes.....in my opinion he was the equal of Jimi and vice-versa. Call them co-Gods and be done with it.

And then Sir Richard came along, blew the situation out of the water, and now we are full circle for the early history of rock n' roll lead guitar playing. 

In other news, I'm working on my books, trying to get the first one ready for publication while needing to draw a book cover myself. I'm a one-man operation, and at the same time I'm also trying to process the mountain of information I received, from October 2023 through March of this year, about my life and my life's situation. In 1996, I learned that I was different, and that my life was very different, and I've been dealing with it ever since. The recent mountain of information has been incredibly helpful, allowing me to identify much of the day-to-day detail of the Summer of 1989, but the source for that information is currently in a lull. It's as if God has said, "examine what I've given you, then I will give you more." 

So that's what I'm doing. I've already got 225 pages for the new, updated version of What Happened in Northridge (which, as noted, may or may not retain that title). The first version was concerned mainly with two weeks in September 1989, and the story is so much bigger now. Really, it's the story of my life, which can be broken down into two large elements: something I call The Lorne Street School Story, and What Happened in Northridge.

I've been walking past Freda's house and thinking about clandestine car rides. I know I was in that house, I know that meeting took place. I know I went places with you and sometimes Lys, too. I know you guys took me to see Ann. In short, I know there was a program in place. I believe it began in 1992 (which, coincidentally is when a certain person took office), and I believe it continued into 1993. I've been considering a series of events, two mainly, maybe more. Sometime in 1992, the late, great (but not as great as he used to be) Dave Small made two phone calls to me, both in which he was surly and drunk. They were so unlike him. I hadn't heard from him in over a year, maybe two, and in the first call, he was making no sense. I had to ask him to call back when he wasn't inebriated. I wish I could put an exact date on both calls, especially the second one, because he called back - I am guessing it was roughly between late '92 and Winter or early Spring 1993 - and this time he was sarcastic. So unlike Dave! He was the original mild-mannered guy. But this time, he wasn't. I said, "Hello?" and he said, "Hey....it's me, Mr. Davey." I said, "Hey man...what's happening?" and he said, curtly, "Oh...nothing." Then he added "Somebody here wants to talk to you. Somebody here thinks you know everything."

I assumed he meant Kelly, since she was his girlfriend. She lived with Dave in the Burton Street house. With his statement "Somebody here thinks you know everything" I further assumed he meant in the "Jeopardy" sense. I get a lot of answers right on Jeopardy. I said, "okay, put her on", meaning put Kelly on the phone and I'd try to answer her question, whatever it was. I heard some chatter in the background. Dave said "C'mon, I've got him on the phone....are you gonna talk to him or not?" Finally, he came back. "Now she won't do it." His voice was slurred. I was losing my patience, because of his prior call, and in those days (early 1990s) Dave was not in my life. He disappeared with Kelly from about 1990 to mid-93. I said, "Does Kelly want to talk to me or not?" He tried again, then gave up. "No, I guess I called you for nothing." I said goodbye and thought it was strange. It wasn't until a few years ago that I considered another meaning to his statement, "Somebody here thinks you know everything."

Everything about 1989.

Dave was telling me that Kelly thought my memory had come back. It had not. Not yet. Not until October of 1993. But why would she think that? From what evidence? Neither she nor Dave had spoken to me in that time period. And from word of mouth? That's not possible, because at the time of those phone calls, my memory of 1989 was blank. I couldn't possibly have told anyone anything. So, why would Kelly assume my memory was back? This is a fascinating question.

What interests me is that, not long after this second call took place, maybe a month or two later, Dave kicked Kelly out of his house. He wasn't just breaking up with her, but evicting her. Her brother Sean came down to intervene. They came to my house and enlisted my help. I went to see Dave and said, "You can't do this, you can't put Kelly on the street. She's a girl, it's dangerous, she has nowhere to go." He agreed to let her sleep in his garage until she found a place, but that only lasted one day. Then he was furious again. "I want her out of here!" he told me. Kelly came back to my house, and within 24 hours, she was Terry Meissner's girlfriend. I allowed her to move into the garage, provided Mrs. Meissner pay us extra rent.

At the time (and for years), I never considered Dave's drunken phone calls. However, I always found the swiftness unusual, how quickly Kelly became Terry's girlfriend.

At the time, Dave gave me a lot of gibberish about why he threw Kelly out, and remember - he put her on the street, an extreme thing to do, with no guarantee she'd have anywhere to go. I don't believe he threw her out because she wasn't doing the dishes (one of his stated excuses). I believe it was because Kelly was worried that my memory was back, or more precisely, Dave was worried because he was directly involved in 1989. And maybe Kelly was prodding him about it. I don't know, but I'll eventually find out.

I will eventually find everything out. I always do. This recent avalanche of information has been so helpful.

And I believe there was a program in place, possibly to help me regain my memory, that included things like car rides, and meetings (at least one at Freda's) and trips to see Ann, and it seems to have coincided with Dave's eviction of Kelly, and her subsequent coupling with Terry Meissner, the bad guy at the center of the whole thing.