I’m sure you looked something like this...Funny story. One day last year, Toby Myers came to my place and he was checking out some of my guitars. I asked if he wanted to plug in, which he did, and I suggested we jam to a Mellencamp song. I asked my wife to video it, and she did.................without ever putting me in the video.
Anyway, without any visual proof................that is me on my drums.
Les, that story is priceless. Here again, as I sit here getting caught up on this forum, I'm laughing out loud visioning that scene. That should be in some movie somewhere.Haha! I had a similar experience that will demonstrate what a numbskull I am.
I had an interview with a recruiter for a certain Ivy school that I had absolutely no business even considering, and had no chance of getting into.
The interview took place at his gorgeous, ornate home that was done up kind of like a medieval manor house. Obviously, he’d knocked it out of the park in terms of success.
I, on the other hand, was a most unimpressive candidate, and with each answer I gave, I could see the recruiter kind of looking at me like, “What is this kid even doing here?” Nor did I blame him for thinking that; I didn’t know, either. It was my parents’ idea because I’d tested well on the college entrance exams.
At one point in the interview, I noticed that the guy had a beautiful pipe organ in a special room near the living room. Three manuals, real pipes, full bass pedals, the whole, real, deal. I made the mistake of saying, “Wow, that’s an incredible instrument!”
He said to me (no doubt thinking I could play something from Bach on it) “Oh, do you play the organ?” The look on his face said, maybe the kid has musical talent and that’s why he’s here. And I said, yes, I played in a band.
“Then you must play for me, I insist.”
What I should have said was, “No thanks, it’s not what you’re expecting, it’s a rock band.”
But I really wanted to play the damn thing! So he walked me over to it, and fired up the electric pump that sent air through the pipes, and said, “Please play!”
So...I messed with the stops, and got a sound, and commenced playing “Green Onions,” the old Booker T. and the MGs song. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the guy kind of had his head cocked to one side, with one of those, “There’s definitely something wrong with this kid” expressions. But I was having fun on this giant pipe organ, and it was nice and LOUD. Green Onions, cranked to the max on a real pipe organ! I mean, how many chances do you get to play Green Onions on a real pipe organ?
“Um, can you play anything else,” he said. I mean, the voice was glum.
I then played House of the Rising Sun, complete with organ solo.
Sounded killer. To me.
Not to him.
He had a really, really disappointed look on his face. I knew he wouldn’t let me play the intro to In A Gadda Da Vida, which would have been next on my hit parade, and which I really wanted to hear on that organ! I decided to spare him that experience, and spare myself the look of utter disapproval, and stood up to go.
Both he and I knew that his school and my so-called brain weren’t a match, though he politely finished the interview, said, “Well, that was a really...um...interesting interview,” again with that expression on his face that said this kid is an idiot, and handed me the application to fill out.
I pretended that I had a chance in hell of going there and thanked him and took it, and when I got home, I secretly crumpled it up and threw it into the trash.
One day my parents asked me, “Whatever happened with that Ivy League school? Did you ever hear from them?”
And I said, “Nope! They never got back to me.”
Which was true, of course.