Jonathots Daily Blog
(2189)
(Transcript)
The Fletchers were really nice folks.
They opened up their home after school for the kids to hang out and goof off. I think they did it because their son was a little bit backwards, and they tried to push him forwards with a sideways approach of encouraging kids his age to occupy his space.
The Fletchers had a piano. I played a little bit. Having mastered two years of lessons via the Thompson Book, I had enough acumen on the keyboard to pound out many a song–especially since the rock and roll of the day was usually three chords.
I had two close friends–Mike and Bob. Mike played snare drum and Bob sang (like any thirteen-year-old who lives in a town of fifteen hundred people sings.)
Mike, Bob and I had a master plan. We were interested in three girls–Renee, Dovita and Linda. We decided to invite them to the Fletcher home so that Mike could play his drum, I could play piano and Bob could sing the current radio hit–Hang On Sloopy.
The girls were adequately enticed by our invitation and joined us. I found the key of F and began to enthusiastically simulate the repetitive pattern of the hit song. Mike joined in, both sticks in hand, beating on his single snare. Bob screeched and squalled, imitating the angst of the lead singer of the McCoys, much to the glee and swooning of the young lasses.
We finished our first pass on the tune, ready to begin again, when it suddenly became obvious that all three of the young ladies were attracted to Bob, and Mike and I had been relegated to a backstage position as roadies packing up the cases.
Then I realized a very important truth:
- Mike wore glasses and was as scrawny as a scarecrow.
- I wore glasses and was plump as a pig.
- Bob was perfect and cute as a button factory.
So we played the song again, but it was obvious that Mike and I were mere backups–tools to be used for Bob’s romantic adventures.
We provided the harmony and beat. He got the chicks.
Both Mike and I learned that day why the rhythm gives you the blues.
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