I am responding to a challenge from Chris “Lefty” Brown to write about my musical evolution. Honestly, I don’t know how far I will go in chronicling this part of my life, as it could be quite lengthy and somewhat convoluted, but I thought I would at least share two memories that instantly came to mind when I read Chris’ challenge.

For my first memory, I have an image of my friend, Bobby and I walking to Eucalyptus Records to buy my first piece of music, a 45-rpm single of Gary Numan’ “Cars”. Eucalyptus Records was an all in one record store/head shop/ticket outlet complete with black light posters and strobe lights, and I vaguely remember feeling that I was crossing some kind of threshold while walking there. Bobby purchased a copy of the song as well, and when we got back to my place we took turns playing our copies on my parents’ stereo system over and over again. To this day I can recall the feeling of longing the song evoked with its intro idling-engine-like sound, and its low-end keyboard riff accompanied by a haunting, high-pitched synthesizer that sounded like an electronic angel singing. The song felt like a dream induced departure from my mundane life. After the ambient, electronic intro, Gary sung the following lyrics with a mod delivery that prefigured the new-wave sound of the 80s: “Here in my car – I feel safest of all – I can lock all my doors – It’ the only way to live – In cars” –whip-CRACK!!

For my second memory, I must confess that though I was raised as a Christian, where the notion that God became man was at the center of our belief system, I did not ever really feel the temptation to declare that anyone was God until the day I heard “Eruption” by Eddie Van Halen. In an age where guitar shredders are practically a dime a dozen it is hard to appreciate what a metaphysical-shifting moment it was when that guitar solo hit the airwaves. For me, to hear that song was as if my soul had grown skin just so it could be torn apart by the soaring sounds, and light speed, semi-baroque, arpeggios that made me realize that orgasm was not just a physical sensation. How can a guitar sound like that? How can fingers move that fast? How can I feel so torn apart and put back together by a song that is only comprised of a guitar and lasts not even two minutes? I once heard Eruption described as the soundtrack to World War Three, which is a statement I both affirm and deny. Certainly it is the sound of a blitzkrieg enacted by a master of speed, whammy bar, hammer-on, and tapping dynamics, but war is such a negative and hellish thing. By contrast, to this day when I hear Eruption I feel as if I am brought closer to the manifest glory of heaven.

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Cars

Eruption

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