I Guess This is Growing Up

My wife and I have always made it a point to raise our children around an environment filled with music.  Be it having a variety of instruments lying around the house for them to experiment on or simply just having the TV off and the radio on for the better part of the day. Some days it may be a little country, others a little Christian or Top 40.  However, on the days when I am able to commandeer the radio, it’s pure rock.

As a child, my parents always had a variety of their music playing in-and-around the house as well.  Being children of the late 50s and 60s, there was always an abundance of “oldies” doo wop and a cappella as well as the early rock and roll essentials echoing throughout our home.  I, however, grew up gravitating towards a more bombastic flavor of that rock-and-roll music.

It started early on with the sinisterly painted faces of KISS and gradually worked their way through the Queen, AC/DC, and Van Halen of the late 1970s.  Throughout the 1980s, it got progressively louder and more flamboyant from there.  Deafening arena concerts, overly-dramatic stage shows, and blinding pyrotechnics…oh my.  The bigger, louder, and more elaborate the stage show, the more captivating it was to my pre-pubescent inner-rockstar. 

Thinking back all those years ago, some of the best times of my teens were centered in or around music in some capacity.  Whether it was that unforgettable three-hour concert that I still gush about seeing back in high school, all of those Friday nights cruising the local strip with a carful of buddies and the stereo on “11”, or that wild house party where the music didn’t seem to stop until the sun came up.  All those years of glorious reminiscence aside though, it was always the memories of playing in a band with friends that provided the highlight of my youth.

Oh the humanity!


Most days, it was endless hours of song rehearsals and social degeneracy in our drummer’s garage-turned-studio.  Off-color jokes and pranks, heated bickering and in-fighting, juvenile rowdiness and horse-play.  Other days, it was our shameless self-promotion and brainstorming of just how we were going to become the first local band to “make it”.  Coupled with our love of playing music though, it was simply just a genuine camaraderie that girlfriends could never understand nor could school possibly compare.

Perhaps one of my most amusing recollections was the night that we were up late practicing at a friend’s place the night before a gig.  I mean stupid late.  It was well after 2:30 am on a Friday night (Saturday morning) and we were still busy rehearsing.  To the apparent dumbfounded shock of all present that night, there was suddenly a heavy knock at the door.  Upon answering, two of the county’s finest constables stood in the doorway waving their flashlights in our faces.  Near verbatim, the conversation went essentially like this:

“We got a bunch of noise complaints.  What are you guys doing in there?”

“Rehearsing.  You know, band practice.”

“Band practice???  You guys realize that it’s nearly 3:00 in the morning, right?”

“Yea.  We suck.”

 Finally, there were the clubs.  Playing live at the local dive bars…

Jaxx Nightclub; Springfield, VA (circa 1991)



Blinding stage lights, choking fog machines, and a PA system that ran 12,000 watts in a club only slated for 5,000.  It was the most over-the-top stage set-up that could be purchased on 17 year-old kids’ mall salaries.  Honestly, it was all for nothing other than our own adrenaline rush though.  Living the juvenile embodiment of being as loud and obnoxious as humanly possible without the fear of judgment or public reprimand.  In short, embracing the spirit of unbridled bedlam and social deviance wholly inspired by years of watching mindless MTV hair-metal videos.  

As with everything else though, time and life in general moves faster than you’d ever expect.  After playing in a number of bands throughout college, graduation and the nine-to-five of making ends meet became the necessary evil and inevitably took precedence over any dreams of rock-and-roll stardom. 

Now, with the cheers and jeers of those dive bar crowds long since dead, my guitar performances had, until recently, been relegated to the family room for my kids.  No more dropping to the knees during a guitar solo or kicking over the tables of unruly barroom hecklers.  Just my three kids intently sitting…watching dear old dad strum away on the acoustic guitar.

“Hellooooooooo, Family Room!  Are you guys ready to rock?!?  I said…are you guys ready to ROCK?!?  Oh...and I’m also getting the signal from the back of the room for last call.  Last call, everyone!  Get your apple juice now because your mother is closing the kitchen at 7:30.”

Recently, however, our church had started putting together a praise band.  They there were looking for a guitarist and I was asked if I would be interested in joining in.  That old fire suddenly got re-lit.

A chance to plug in and play my dusty old six-strings?  Out loud?  In front of actual adults that I’m not directly related to?  As excitement started to build though, I found myself with a legitimate problem.  I had never really listened to nor paid all that much attention to the fundamentals of contemporary Christian music.  For some odd reason, there was this inkling of doubt that some of the old reliables like Motley Crue’s “Shout at the Devil” or Danzig’s “Mother” would go over particularly well early on a tranquil Sunday morning.

Not knowing the genre all that well, I decided to search online for some examples in order to gauge the overall guitar styles and chord progressions associated.  The first song that we had discussed playing was called “Revelation Song” by a group called Hillsong United.  I got on YouTube to search for it.  Instead, Iron Maiden’s “Revelations” popped up. 

Wow…irony much?  Can I get a Christian contemporary rimshot, please?

More than six months with this new band and genre though, I have to say for the record that I thoroughly enjoy playing all of these songs.  For where I am now in my life, they offer their own adrenaline-rush and sense of accomplishment for me after performing them.  I have also found that same genuine camaraderie, excitement, and love of music with this band as I had with all those throughout my youth.  Just without all the vulgar name-calling and off-colored shenanigans…

Although I can’t help it, I also still find myself amused at some of the other rather obvious differences from playing years past as well.  The whole positive message and inspirational song structure thing over social shock value and earth-shattering decibel levels immediately come to mind.  A seated, captive audience over the violent anarchy of the mosh-pit is yet another.  The lack of metal detectors and mandatory weapons frisking at the door is another priceless paradox.

I will admit that there are still many, many times that I find myself getting that undeniable itch to satisfy the desires of my amplifier’s guttural distortion channel.  However, I can also rest assured that I don’t have any concerns over the local police showing up and ticketing us for noise violations during one of our rehearsal sessions.

Capt. Obscurity


So, gone are the days of my magnificently untamed mullet, ripped jeans with spandex, and gaudy stage jewelry.  Today’s pulpit version marks an much older and more restrained version…complete with shaved head, pressed khakis, and that mind-numbingly, irreverent polo shirt.  Yes…from unkempt, Sunset Strip wannabe to a middle-aged poster-child of suburban obscurity.

To quote the band Blink-182…  “Well, I guess this is growing up.”

Self-deprivation aside, the re-emergence of live music in the house has also channeled the inner-rockstars of my son and oldest daughter as well.  Both asked Santa for instruments this past Christmas and, both of which, he was more than willing to comply.  A full-size drum set for my son and an acoustic guitar for my daughter.

Now, I find myself with bigger and better endeavors to pursue.  Aside from getting my own music fix playing on Sunday mornings, I am now able to pass along that same live music addiction to my son and daughter as well.  My kids enjoy seeing us play on those Sunday mornings and both of the older ones have happily jumped in with both feet.

Whether it’s teaching my daughter her guitar chords or playing my electric alongside my son in one of his increasingly intricate drum practice sessions…it’s really an emotion within me that I have found second-to-none.  No stage theatrics, pyrotechnics, or amount of applause could possibly compare with that feeling and the joy of passing this gift on to them.

Although not currently in our church’s playlist, maybe it is the timeless lyrics of another Iron Maiden song that had me pegged this whole time. 

“So understand; Don’t waste your time always searching for those wasted years; Face up, make your stand...and realize your living in the golden years.”