Ian,
We shared a long and glorious history with the guitar. No single blog can cover what we shared. So, here goes - gotta start somewhere. It started in CA and continued as you carried your Music Man to A&M for your Freshman year. The wind carries your music to my ears every day.
Johnny was a schoolboy when he heard his first Beatle song,
'Love me do,' I think it was. From there it didn't take him long.
Got himself a guitar, used to play every night,
Now he's in a rock 'n' roll outfit,
And everything's all right, don't you know?
Okay, it was not the Beatles first. Actually it probably was the Police - "Message in a Bottle." Danny loved that song, Mom and I loved the Police and as a toddler you rocked out from the start. Mom gave me guitar lessons our last year in California - you took instant interest in what I was doing. Soon, you were begging us to get you a guitar. As with most big purchases, you kids shared in the purchase and you saved up to make the guitar happen. I still remember Mom sitting at the desk in our living room bidding on the guitar with you looking anxiously over her shoulder. Boom! You won the bid on a 30th Anniversary Fender Squier Showmaster HH (top left below!). When it arrived, the love affair began.
Johnny told his mama, hey, 'Mama, I'm goin' away. I'm gonna hit the big
time, gonna be a big star someday', Yeah.
Mama came to the door with a teardrop in her eye.
Johnny said, 'Don't cry, mama, smile and wave good-bye'.
You loved your guitar, but began to contemplate expanding your interest to the bass. So for Christmas in 7th grade, you received a black Fender Squier P-bass. You always could make a guitar sing, but you could make a bass soar. You were dedicated to spreading the message and method of bass playing to everyone you met. Your first concert was at Antone's - yes, the legendary Antone's - with your Rock Camp band. Andrew played lead in your band and Aaron played in another band. You started the bass line to "I'm So Sick" by FlyLeaf - fuzzy, heavy and driving. The whole place got quiet - then BOOM! The singer, a tiny little girl, hit the group in full screamo fashion. The song just flat rocked! I remember the guy who set up your rig and did sound checks was a roadie and sound guy for Eric Clapton - only in Austin!
Don't you know, yeah yeah, Don't you know that you are a shooting star,
Don't you know, don't you know. Don't you know that you are
a shooting star, And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are.
Your musical interests bounced around, from the screamo bands you played with in Junior High and Freshman year, to folk. You took "guitar" class in Anderson. We spent a day doing Pawn Shopping to find the Applause electric acoustic. Your piano teacher in CA said you had a "natural ear." Indeed, you tuned all the guitars in the class. Still remember you coming home and learning "Under the Bridge" by the Chili Peppers in probably an hour. Your Chili Pepper repertoire expanded from Flea - to Frusciante.
The Squier bass gave way to a black Fender active J/P bass. Way cool and way heavy sounding fitting into the sounds of prog-metal. But the sounds of Mumford and Sons inspired you and others with their rhythmic, folk music. Your Sophomore year Summer, this was your next calling - to play the stand up bass in the stompy folk sounds. Indeed, you joined a band with a female lead singer, guitars, precussionists - and needed a bassist to fit into the "unplugged" type of sound. So, Mom and I went looking with you. We looked at stores: Blackerby, Violins, etc. and others. You wanted a classic, not a Chinese made new-bee instrument. Well you found it from a family in the Anderson district, a Jusek Upright bass - pre-WWII, 3/4 size - huge!!! It was probably made in Germany or Czechoslovakia and shipped to New York for initial use in secondary school music programs way long ago. A true classic and you paid her off yourself - it was THAT important to you! She was named "Bessy" and soon you were looking for vehicles, the Pathfinder and CRV, with the single criteria - could they carry her?
I remember you playing several concerts with the folk band, unplugged, at Rock Island in Zilker. You came home after the first one - unable to stop talking you were so excited. People stopped playing soccer, ultimate, walking their dogs, etc. and crowded around as your band largely jammed together to the folk beat. You joined in the Anderson Orchestra your senior year - but was too much to balance. Amazing how well you picked up bowing, scales and stand up - in addition to rock guitar. But you and Mr. A exchanged ideas about playing styles. You loved Bessy, even if you contemplated selling her to raise money for school. You always stopped as you passed Bessy, plucked, bowed or slapped her strings - making Flea sound booming on a big up-right bass.
Johnny made a record, Went straight up to number one,
Suddenly everyone loved to hear him sing the song.
Watching the world go by, surprising it goes so fast.
Johnny looked around him and said, 'Well, I made the big time at last'.
You loved sharing music with anyone who would listen or pick up an instrument. Whether it was YouTubes, music you downloaded, the CD's you treasured, your guitars, basses, or Bessy. Friends visiting the house would get lessons, learn a riff. You often brought your instruments to friends houses to play and share music. This was the genesis of playing in the KIDS worship band at the Stone (more about this in another blog). It also went with you wherever you went. When we went as a family to El Salvador on the Riverbend mission trip (LOTS of stories coming from that trip!), you were always sharing music. I still remember waking up from a nap - sleeping on the concrete after a
full morning of Bible School - and seeing you teaching a young
Salvadorian to play using the Strat from the worship band. You tried to teach Cesar, and others, and exchanged riffs with the Strat owner. Music and your giving nature formed a tremendously deep emotional and spiritual bond with the kids and your peers - from the US and El Salvador. They all miss you greatly in El Salvador.
Don't you know, don't you know, Don't you know that you are
a shooting star,
Don't you know, oh, yeah, Don't you know that you are
a shooting star, yeah,
And all the world will love you just as long,
As long as you are, a shooting star.
Little Emily Warfield was your real calling. The fit in a power trio was
perfect. Erin's dirty, chugging Gibson, Jacob's active percussion style
and your lyrical bass lines articulated like missing puzzle pieces. For
two and a half years, you guys perfected older songs, wrote new ones,
recorded and played in clubs in East Austin, 6th Street, in festivals,
all the way Houston way. Powering your sound was your Music Man. It was the favorite gift Mom and I ever looked to find for you, and gave you. When you opened the Squier box for Christmas, you knew it was not a Squier bass - but never thought it would be a top flight Music Man. Tears poured as your joy exploded around this instrument. That gift was used to the fullest - even if for too short of time. It went with you everywhere - in your cars, to school, to A&M, etc. playing all the time. Staring at Mom and I from the ottoman, playing "Happy Birthday", walking around the house, on a stage - the bass was plucked, strummed, slapped, all the time.
It was so much fun to help you lug around your
Bugera head, or your Trace Elliot cabs and set up. I could be your
roady!! A father's dream. (How Ray at Heart of Texas gave you the
amazing deal on the head and the 4X10 cab - and my Deluxe - is another
story! Ray really liked you so much.) LEW could just flat rock!
Johnny died one night, died in his bed, Bottle of whiskey,
sleeping tablets by his head. Johnny's life passed him by like a
warm summer day, If you listen to the wind you can still hear him play
A Nashville promoter wanted to sign LEW to a contract. This all landed at the end of your first semester as a Freshman at A&M. You, Jacob and Erin struggled with whether to sign and go to Nashville, or stay in school. The deal quality was really poor - but how many chances can you get...Lots of debate, struggle and finally you decided that the opportunity was not right and you returned to A&M to pursue your degree in Exercise Physiology. Certainly another opportunity to sign with a better deal would come around. LEW planned to practice again at Spring Break and play again concerts in the Summer. You would certainly turn more heads and record some more music. Alas, it would not be.
The "Shooting Star" song does not fit here. Johnny dies due to misuse of drugs and squanders his talents in riotous living and solitary sadness. That was not you. You chose to be clean, gregarious and a leader among the Aggies. What if you would have gone to Nashville? How would have life been different? Certainly the influence on your friends, A&M in total would never have happened. So many people turned to Jesus through your words, actions, witness and going Home. You pointed people to Jesus - showed Him to be real through your love, realness, and passion. Passion for music, passion for life, passion in worship. Yes, you passed from this life to the next too fast, like a warm sunny day. But, like Johnny, if you listen to the wind, we can still hear you play. As the Edge said when he bought his Explorer - "there are lots of songs in this guitar," each of your instruments has your songs still reverberating from them - in our heads, in their wood, through their strings. No one can forget you Ian. Miss you so much.
Oh oh oh, Don't you know that you are a shooting star,
Don't you know, yeah, don't you know', Don't you know that
you are a shooting star,
Don't you know, yeah......
Ian, I can still hear you play. I remember you as I see my Fender Tele you played on all the time, the Tak that you recorded your songs, your 7 string Schecter, Bessy as she sits quietly in our living room, and your beloved Music Man. Guitars mean memories. Guitars bring you closer to me. Guitars remind me that we are never too far apart.
Love you "E",
Dad
