[Harp-L] Thoughts

["Bob Laughlin" <rlaughlin@xxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Lots of things mulling around in my heart and mind after reading some of the performer/audience related responses to Will's post. I tend to think a lot, and analyzing is not only a hobby with me, but perhaps also a compulsion. I like to get into the depths, you might say,,take things apart,,see what makes 'em tick.

Concerning the audience/performer relationship,,my mother often tells me that when she was a young operatic star, she learned to appreciate the footlights, for the anonymity they afforded. She couldn't see who was watching, listening to her sing, and so she couldn't get self-conscious because of it. Her worst performances were, as she tells it, when she knew that her family members were out there in the audience. 

Now as to the harmonica,,

I think this little metallic (primarily) object to be simply one of the greatest inventions of mankind, throughout history. It's easy to carry, gets instantaneous response, feedback, from the listener, including oneself as the listener/player, and really is quite versatile, and increasingly so as one begins to learn all of its nuances, variations, and uses. 

I first began to play back in the mid-sixties, when, upon hearing guys like Paul Butterfield, John Mayall, Jack Bruce, and various others, I decided that I should "get me one". I already knew that Stevie Wonder could play, but that seemed at the time a kind of "phenomenon". Back then, he was just "Little Stevie Wonder", and billed as somewhat of an oddity,,an incredibly talented young performer, but who could duplicate his licks on the "chromo"? Hell,,who could even AFFORD a "chromo" to begin with? I still can't. I was fortunate enough to inherit a couple of them when my step-father passed on. But when Butterfield and company began to use the harp AS a "blues-harp", things began to change for me, and for my desire to learn the instrument. I got a book, read it, and tried some things.

I got good enough to sit at Santa Monica beach, on the pink wall in front of the Santa Monica Hotel, where "Joan Baez once stayed", and where my friend John Lewis once confided in me, saying "Bob,,I just love girls butts",,I got good enough to play there, sitting on the wall, and feel that I was a part of things there. Soon enough, I was bringing my Yamaha steel string acoustic, or my bongos, depending on which mood I was in, and whether I felt the occasion warranted it, or the audience desired it, the "audience" being my circle of friends,,Peter Pipeline, Temple Ball, Dennis McCrank, others "too numerous to mention". People wandered by, as the boardwalk was right next to us, and Santa Monica beach was "the place" during summers, and a nice place to be alone in the off season. Everyone was a potential member of the ever-changing audience, including a lot of strangers who were just browsing by from some European nation with their girls, or alone. But the core audience was the "crowd" I ran with, with whom I visited, on several occasions, the Shrine Auditorium, downtown L.A., usually whenever Denny (McCrank) would sound the trumpet for some new, "unknown" (at least to me) musical group which happened to be there that night. We would pile into the back of someone's VW bus and go see the likes of Janis Joplin, Johnny Winter, B.B King, Buddy Miles and the Electric Flag, and others "too numerous to mention".

All the time, my constant companion was either my A or D Marine Band harmonica, or both. I was having a love affair with my D, but for variation, the A kept calling me to its more difficult bends, and more attractive key signature in cross, relative to the guitar, sans capo. Since I had one mode going on guitar,,"boogie in E,,or A", it worked for me,,until I got tired of hearing myself playing the same things, again and again.

I gave up music entirely one day. 

This group of people is milling around on the beach,,MY beach,,as I arrive for the daily ritual of gathering together, re-establishing our group identity, as members of something, or maybe nothing. Anyway,,this group of people is on MY beach, taking up space with their donuts, conversation, approaching people and engaging them in conversation,,holding bibles,,,

I had just recently been calling myself zen (buddhist), and recently that had changed, and I myself was carrying a small new testament now, along with my guitar, my harmonica, and my long coat. I had NO idea, but the bible seemed a peaceful place for me at certain times. Denny (McCrank) had told me that he even had "studied to become a preacher" once. He was a kind of mentor amongst us, older, having a real job, and knowing all the coolest bands. 

So here's this group,,donuts,,bibles,,and "Jesus loves you".

I got called,,I jumped right in,,I'm on the bus.

Two years later,,I've been with these people through mission buildings on skid row L.A., isolated ranches in the God knows where middle of Texas, and scary places in Detroit with "ho's" and gunshots in the night. I'd preached my bibly Jesus on the streets of Austin, Hollywood, Detroit, and Dallas, and had had enough. The group was getting wierd. The leader/founder had recently been with a younger woman in the group, calling her his "new wife", and was beginning, unbeknownst to me, to introduce the others to "love" the way he saw it. Husbands and wives,,forget it. We were all "married to Jesus", and everything else was fair game. If "Joe" was alone, and "Sally" was handy, it didn't matter if "Sally" belonged to "Sam", whatever was convenient, it was "all good". He even justified it in scripture.

Years later, one of his daughters wrote a book,,"Children of God,,". She said he'd been that way with the two of them since they were little,,,good God.

So,,during this time,,I was seeking "spirituality". I think I saw myself as "Jesus", since once on acid, my best friend Eddy Halverson had told someone at the Rose Bowl Parade who was handing out gospel tracts "You want to know Jesus? Look. Here's Jesus". He was pointing at me.

Well,,as I said, I had given up music. My guitar had become the property of the group, and someone else (probably one of the leaders) was now playing it. My cello I discovered broken in two one day in the carpenter's trailer at the ranch. That broke my heart. I cried out, confessing to God,,I loved that cello.

Skip ahead to some years after leaving the group, wife in hand, being regular, even zealous church-goers with what we considered a "legitimate" congregation. I happened to be listening to the radio, driving to my menial job de-burring parts at a machine shop in Anaheim, California, 1977 or so. Elton John was singing with Kiki Dee,,,"Don't Go Breakin' My Heart,,"

I couldn't he'p m'self. I had to play music. I found a used, broken guitar, at a swap meet I was operating a searchlight for, somewhere one night. Paid fourteen dollars, fixed the neck, and began carrying it to work, playing it on breaks. It was a really nice guitar, but I ended up giving it away, as I have also done with several other guitars, to someone less advantaged then myself, but more skilled at playing people's heartstrings,,a young black guy I met while operating still another searchlight at a Wings concert at the Inglewood Forum. I gave him a ride home, and my guitar. Give it up,,it will come back to you.

As fate has it,,guitars always seem to show up when you need them. My eldest son was given one by someone whose son wasn't playing his, and since my son wasn't playing it either, it eventually went to me, and my youngest.

But harmonica? 

As I've mentioned,,a fellow employee of the city of Huntington Beach had an extra ticket to the "Blues Harp Battle of the Bands", Golden Sails Ballroom, thanksgiving eve, I think it was 1999, or maybe 2000. First time I ever heard Rod Piazza and the Mighty Flyers,,

I got hooked again. My friend's little funny cigarette didn't help much either. I hadn't had any of that for years either, or even since,,but it made for an interesting evening.

Ho Hum,,so much talk, ,

I've been thinking, however,,about the audience/ performer relationship, and what it's for, what it fosters, satisfies, etc..

It certainly builds a kind of community,,and I think that's what we're in it for,,something to share,,

It's a tone we come to value,,and feel gratified and legitimized when someone comes up and says,,"hey,,that's cool",,or even when your amp "has that tone". It's always better when it's "you", and not "the amp", but it's all kind of good. It's a tone,,and a rhythmic sense,,something we discovered about ourselves that seemed attractive, and developed. When you feel you need strokes,,inwardly or outwardly,,it works. It's not only self-gratifying, but also seems to affect others similarly. And if it doesn't,,we find ourselves seeking out other others that seem to "get it".

It's funny. At times, while doing my store job, I'll find a vacant aisle and just bust out the harp for the key playing on the store radio, and just wail for a few measures. Lots of times I'll do it just BECAUSE of who I just noticed browsing the aisle next to mine. Over time, you get to know who's liking it. Mostly, everyone does. 

Here's a story related to the above:

When I first started working as a janitor at this store,,just to get the health plan,,a few knew I could play. One day, this guy says,,"Hey Robert, play me some harp". So I did. This older woman,,the "head checker", says to me,,"Robert,,if one of the supervisors were to walk by when you were doing that, you could be in big trouble". I said,,"If so,,I hope they fire me." I wasn't kidding. Giving up harp is just too high a price to pay,,ya know.

Soon afterward,,I get called into the office over the store P.A.

Dave, the store manager, even the one who hired me, the big cheese, says,,"Robert,,do you have a harmonica on you?" I braced myself. "Sure,,I've got at least one,,maybe two." So he says,,"Can you play any Van Morrison?" I busted out the harp, and did some stuff, and he loved it. 

Shortly after, an area supervisor came by, and he also had to hear me play. Then,,the store was remodeled. For several months, the whole store went through a renovation. Million dollar make-over. They were giving away bags of groceries to lucky, unsuspecting customers in line at the opportune moment. Then, they called me up on the mike in front of the store to play harmonica, several times a day, or "whenever you want, Robert". Not wanting to wear out my welcome, I only took advantage of it two or three times daily. 

But it shot the hell out of the warning that "head checker" had given me. Just one more instance where one learns not to pay any attention to the "wet blankets". If the regulation isn't internal, it's infernal.

Then, we get the low-down "awww shucks" syndrome. We feel inwardly that we just didn't play well,,but someone else is telling us different. That's when we could be helped by loosening up and just enjoying the party. It may have been that we missed the notes, but kept it going, rhythmically, and in so doing, supported the dance-related activity. That's good too. Some people like to dance. If I could, I would. (My youngest, who performs on classical guitar, just invited us to a dance performance at his school. All the classes get together once a year for a free performance,,standing room only. He's taking latin dance. I couldn't believe it when he and his partner took the stage. I see him at home,,but wow,,)

So,,we feel that we can't take a compliment. We know better. 

It's okay. Take it. Take the money too. (I wish I'd have had this "mindset" years ago. To me,,music was too much fun,,why should I get paid for it?)

It's not bad to be appreciated. It's what all performers want. It's just a simple matter of sharing what we have. It's like "show and tell", in elementary school. It just feels funny getting paid for it.

It's all good.

Bob,,rambling Jack Idiot

just kidding

P.S.,,Fernando,,good sharing