Short people got...

My entire life, things from my perspective have seemed normal.  This is where things are in my life.  I'm this high above the counter.  I can reach the top shelf.  Yup, things look normal from here.

Then adult life set itself in play, and I quickly learned that things were not as they seemed. 

It started at basic training.  There is a procedure called "Taller Tap" that gets the 50-some odd trainees lined up by height. Once we fall into formation, our Militiary Training Instructor (MTI) yells "If you are taller than the person in front of you, tap them on the shoulder and move forward".  However, time is of the essence so they sat it as if it was one word. "Ifyouaretallerthanthepersoninfrontofyoutapthemandmoveforward!"  This will eventually put all the tall people in front and to the right of the formation.  At basic training I was approximately the 6th shortest guy out of 45.  I knew that Basic would be different being a 33 year old, but being short as well didn't help.  6 and one half weeks of moving to the back secured the foundation of my insecurity of being vertically challenged.

Two weeks ago, I traveled to Sacramento with a brass quintet from work to play at the California Music Educators Association conference.  We stayed in a rather nice hotel, and my first day there, after checking in, I decided to go for a run.  I may be short, but I'm confident enough to wear running gear in public and not care.  As soon as I reach the lobby, I am put in my place.

I am eye level with knee caps.  Maybe they were thighs.  I'm not sure.  It was a tall blur.

Staying at my hotel was the NBA team, the Portland Trail Blazers.  I felt like a ground hog among giraffes.  It was just legs, jerseys, and something on top, I couldn't see that high.  

I always thought that basketball players looked normal on television, since they were around their own kind - you know, tall people.  To see them in 3-D is a humbling experience, especially at a paltry 67 inches high.  To add insult to injury, later that week, the Trailblazers were gone, and in their place were the Toronto Raptors.  Sigh.  More tall people.

Then this past weekend, I played an Easter morning church service.  Due to reasons beyond logic, the young conductor, a music student at a local college, decided to position his podium, literally to the direct left of my chair, so that his conducting pattern flew right above my hairline.  I would guess that this was his second day conducting since his technique was nowhere near anything familiar looking.  At one point during something sacred (go figure) his conducting pattern starting dropping lower and lower due to his focus, concentration, and sheer lack of experience.  I guess, I'm not short enough however, because if he had a sharp object in his hands, I would have been scalped.  Best part - he didn't know that he hit me.

I haven't run into any harm being 5 foot, 7 inches, despite some teasing (some of us from undergrad went to our teachers other college to sit in his trombone choir.  Standing next to a gargantuan bass trombonist, while alternating dropping notes an octave or two "hey, the little guy has a pedal D"  I made sure he remembered that moment by advancing all over his buffalo butt at every audition we both were at from that point on).  It was enough exposure to tall people to feel my diminished stature, and to know I had to make up for it.

As a bass trombonist, we have to move great amounts of air, while securely managing an instrument that requires a Condor-like wingspan.  It was a lesson with one of my idols and heroes, another not so tall man, that made me secure with how tall I am.  When explained things like "I can't reach a true 7th position" and "guys like us don't have huge vital capacities, so we have to learn how to be efficient", and he followed it up with the most gorgeous bass trombone playing my ears had ever heard.  It was then I knew that age old adage:  Size does not matter.

I'm starting to ramble, but the point is...the point is...I'm short enough, I'm smart enough, and dog gonnit, people tower over me

================

This larger than life blog was written to the accompaniment of:

Zudoko Bushi (live) - California Guitar Trio - "After the Storm"

Osteoblast - New Trombone Collective - "New"

Anthony Plog's Three Miniatures  for Trombone - II. Allegro - Bill Booth - "Balancing Act"

Rock N Roll Band - Boston - "Boston"

Home - Foo Fighters - Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace"

Toccata And Fugue In D Minor - Pittsburgh Symphony Low Brass - "From the Back Row"

They say that the pen is mightier than the sword.  The word is a powerful thing.  It has shaped cultures, governments, movements, and helped forge education.  So why don't I give a crap?

Last night, Leonard Cohen was inducted into what I consider the most sacred of all secular temples:  The Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame.  While I may not be the expert on his works, I have heard of him, some of his efforts not only as a songwriter, but as a performer as well.  His induction to me is a no-brainer.  But this isn't about Leonard Cohen.  Its about lyrics.

Why does someone who values popular music so much, and enjoys writing himself not give a crap about lyrics?

My last post was only a fraction of a fraction of a percent of a view of my love and appreciation for rock and rock history.  My cd collection is quite large, and fairly varied.  But ever since I can remember, I have been enjoying, and selecting my purchases and downloads based on the way music sounded to me.  If it grooved, if it rocked, if it chugged along with a maniacal pace that created a powerful frenzy in the listener, I was all over it.  If it told a great story, I couldn't have cared less.

The irony is that one of the defining characteristics of my favorite rock genre - progressive rock - are the epic tales told over 17 minute compositions about fantasy lands, fictitious characters on life affirming quests, dragons, pleasure domes, and endless other topics.  Still, it doesn't matter to me.  Its the chug chug of the beat that keeps my interest.  Hearing a frenetic instrumental jam in  5/8, or 7/8 is heaven to me.

duggaduh-dugga dugga, duggaduh-dugga, duggaduh-dugga, dugga dugga

See, even written down its cool!

Wait a second...

I'd like to think that my interest in the composition of a musical selection of any kind does not primarily show my neanderthal tendencies to not comprehend the words.  They just don't speak to me.

I remember when Anthony played for me my first tracks of my now, favorite band, Dream Theater.  He was explaining the complex story from "Metropolis II: Scenes from a Memory" involving a murder mystery and all its characters with examples from the lyrics.  All I could hear was how well these musicians coalesced and created a groove that made my eardrums and my soul drool for more.  "Dude, stop talking, what did the drums just do there?"

To thine own self be true.  

Hey that sounds impressive, who wrote it?

rock on!

Floyd

=======================

The preceeding blog was composed with the following tracks played from my Smart Playlist: Not Yet-

-Hodie: X. Narration: But Mary kept all these things, Ralph Vaughn Williams, London Symphony

-Sonata #28, Her Majesties Sagbutts and Cornetts

-In Loving Memory, Cosmosquad, "Squadrophenia"

-Main Squeeze, Chuck Mangione,"Live at the Hollywood Bowl"

-Five Melodies, op. 35b, Melody #5, Randal Hawes, "Mellodrama"

-Can't Buy me Love, The Beatles, "1"

-By the Fireside, Turtle Island String Quartet, "By the Fireside"

-Sea broth, Cosmosquad, "Squadrophenia"

Pop music

As I was driving home today, my iPod shuffled up some 80's tunes that got me thinking about popular music and me.  (BTW - it was "Private Life" by Oingo Boingo and then "This Time" by INXS - two really great singing as loud as possible in the car songs).

Popular music was a huge part of my upbringing.  However, looking at the artists that were selected by my parents, and then older sister, I'm not sure how I became "me" with my tastes...or it makes great sense.  Doo-wop tunes like "Sh"boom", the Kingston Trio, Barbara Streisand.  (and I wonder why I gravitated towards metal.  Sheesh.  Couldn't see that one coming!)

I think everyone will look at the music of their youth, and teens and see that as the best music ever.  Its when we discover music that we like, helps shape our identity, creates friendships, reminds us of loves gained and lost, and even that part time job scooping frozen yogurt.  

What's funny about me is I started with the hard stuff (Motley Crue, Iron Maiden, Scorpions, Judas Priest) but still made room for the rock of the 80's (anything on KROQ, Devo, Depeche Mode, Flock of Seagulls, INXS, Boingo, and virtually anything being shown on MTV in its heyday - why doesn't MTV rename itself RTV, reality television???)  Those two camps alone seem to be at odds with themselves.  Hair bands, finger-less gloves, shouting at the devil versus skinny ties, day-glo, and ironically bands to be id'ed by their odd hair.  Yet, I heard it, loved it all, and paved the way for whatever I chose to take in.

When I was a full time private music teacher in Chicago, while getting to know my students, I would ask what they were listening to for fun.  Although hoping to hear some names of trombonists, the artists mentioned seemed vaguely familiar to me only because I read them once or twice in Rolling Stone while flipping pages towards the blatantly left-slanted journalism that I love so much!  Every now and then, there might be some common ground, but as soon as I tried to have a conversation about Korn with Michael, and his mowhawk, the weird old-guy trying to be cool vibe kicked in, and it didn't go anywhere.

I'm convinced that kids today owe their cool music a round of thanks to those that came before it.  I see the 80's as a birthing ground for music of today.  Granted, 80's music can look back at 70's music and say the same thing, which I will not deny.  I just want credit damnit!  As a child of 80's music, I would like to think that the time and money I spent on my music meant something to where we are today...which is where, by the way?

================

today's blog post was written accompanied by the following random tracks:

-Alpine Symphony: 21. Night, Chicago Symphony, Daniel Barenboim conductor

-Groovin' High - Airmen of Note "Legacy"

-5 Months, 2 Weeks, 2 Days - Louis Prima "Collectors Series"

-Main Title from "Shakespeare in Love" - Cincinnati Pops, "Mega Movies", Erich Kunzel conductor

-Artistry Jumps - Stan Kenton, "The Best of Stan Kenton"

-Blank Page - Smashing Pumpkins "Adore"

A new bloginning

I tried keeping a journal.  That ended up being a written storage for every bad day I had.  Why not the good days?  I was too busy enjoying them to sit and jot a thought down.

So, am I having a bad day now?  No.  Just creating an outlet.  

This blog may contain brain droppings on any, all, or none of these topics:  music, trombone, running, juggling, cooking, fatherhood, husbandhood, politics, religion, etc. etc. etc.  Anything and everything.  Stay tuned.  You never know what stupid crap I'll talk about next...but thanks for reading.

BTW - Floyd is a nickname that I adopted in high school during  the beginning of a marching band period in my life that lasted too long.  Even though I may have recently left that marching band phase, the identity sticks.