1993 - Guitar, Growing, and First Gig

As my guitar enthusiasm grew, I began to get bored with my lessons. I appreciated learning to read notes and play basic chords as Mom had emphasized but was bummed with the disconnect I felt between the old-time songs I was being asked to learn and the heavy metal and rock songs that I was aspiring to play. One day I brought a Guitar Worldmagazine to my guitar lesson. It had a transcription with tablature of the Megadeth song, “Peace Sells”. I opened to the music notation that I desired to learn and asked my teacher to teach it to me. After a glance, he closed the magazine and asked me to continue playing “Buffalo Gals”. I was deflated. If I really wanted to become the great guitarist that I knew I could be, I would have to take matters into my own hands. And so began a long journey of seeking high and low for guitar materials that interested and challenged me.

I often visited music shops to check out (and purchase whenever possible) cassettes, CDs, and the occasional VHS tape. Among the shops that I would frequent most were Nobody Beats the Wiz (Flatbush Avenue and Avenue U), Sam Goodie (located inside the Kings Plaza Mall, Flatbush Avenue and Avenue U), and Zig Zag Records (Avenue U and East 23^rd Street). There was the occasional visit to the Staten Island Mall shopping center which had a Sam Goodie, Nobody Beats the Wiz, and a Coconuts where I found various cool additions to my growing collection. And I always had my eye out for potential music stores whenever I travelled somewhere out of the ordinary with Mom or family friends and you can bet that I found them, as well as some cool treasures inside. 

I was discovering my identity through music, particularly heavy metal. It felt good to have something to be into and to continually explore. I was something of an outsider in the local social communities I was part of, but by expanding my sense of identity as a music lover and aspiring rock guitarist I could sense that I was actually an insider of a much larger community. Just what that community was or who was in it, I couldn’t be sure, but my antenna was up, and I was looking for like-minded spirits. 

Having the music was not enough however, I also desired musical paraphernalia in the form of magazines, books, posters, patches, buttons, et cetera. Magazines were great. They had lots of cool pictures, informative articles, posters to hang up in my room, plus they were affordable, and I could share them among friends deepening our common culture. Some of the stores where I could find cool music-related stuff were B. Dalton, Walden Books, and Spencer’s Gifts (all located in Kings Plaza). 

During the first several months of 1993 I was playing around with my friends continuing to try and develop our band of sorts, Primal Target. This band consisted of Yie (drums), Yae (guitar), Jack Longman (guitar), Roddy Smithers (bass) and me (guitar and vocals). However, when Saturday mornings rolled around and my band members were outside in the street playing hockey instead of coming over to jam, it was becoming clear that nobody in the band was taking things as seriously as I was. Our little group was not developing and going nowhere fast. While I wished Yae, Yie, Jack and I could have had a cool band together, I knew at least Yae and Yie’s hearts were not quite in it. My vision for Primal Target was an unfulfilled fantasy. The community drum set eventually found its home in The BASEment. 

One day on MTV I watched a weird and cool cartoon about two unintelligent metalhead teenagers and their dysfunctional suburban life. Before long I was a big fan of the show Beavis and Butt-Head and could hardly wait for the next episode to air. For a while I was aware of exactly how many episodes they made since I was always looking for a new one to watch. A fun and semi-annoying feature of the show was when Beavis and Butt-Head sat on the couch watching and commenting on music videos. I generally preferred to see their animated bits more than the music videos.

One of my closest friends was Mike Florino. He was a schoolmate. Sometimes we hung out at his house on Kimball Street near Quentin Road and sometimes by my house. He was a cool guy and my friends on the block got along with him. I was basically accepted by the crowd on his block. We would have the occasional sleepovers. I liked hanging out at Mike Florino’s house. We’d play video games like Bonk’s Adventure on the Turbo Grafix 16, watch music videos, jam on guitar, and go in his pool. It was in Mike’s bedroom that I experienced the magical potential of the internet for the very first time when in front of my very eyes he used his computer (not telephone!) to communicate with our classmate Rob H. who lived across the street! What?!

One day Mike and another guy came over to hang out by me. Besides goofing around, we spent time actively writing a song. It was something that I had been developing beforehand. Mike helped me to complete the lyrics. The song was called “(They All Suck) And I Laugh”. It was about how I was sick of being made fun of by neighborhood kids who called me “John the Hermit”, just because I preferred to spend time at home playing guitar instead of doing things outside with them. It screams pre-adolescent frustration and was my introduction into the world of collaborative songwriting.

As the original version of the band was stuck in the mud, a new version of Primal Target was forming comprised of Mike Florino, Roddy Smithers, and myself. Jack was hanging in there as part of the band although he never really played guitar, but whatever. Jack mentioned that he knew a kid at his school who was a “real drummer”. He’d see if he could get his number which he did. I called up the number and asked to speak with Dave. We spoke and I invited him to try out for our rock band. He agreed. Shortly after on one fine sunny Saturday in May, the fateful moment had arrived when I would get a chance to play with a drummer who had been actively studying and practicing drums. 

A car pulled up and a bright-eyed 11-year-old Dave Evans jumped out with his drumsticks, ready to rock. He had on a Pantera muscle shirt, and I wondered if he had ever listened to them.  After some basic and direct pre-teen introductions we got right to it. I explained that the song we’d like to work on was called “(They All Suck) And I Laugh”. Mike Florino, Roddy Smithers, and I played through the song for him to get the gist[1]. As we were playing the song for him, Dave was busy readjusting the hodge-podge donated drum kit which had never been properly set up by an experienced drummer before. 

We wrapped up the song and I said to Dave, “So that’s the song. What do you think?” 

He seemed strangely confident that he could play along to it after just one listen. 

“Yeah, let’s try it!” he said. 

All eyes were on him, this included the band members and a few other neighbors, friends and family members who were around that day. None of us knew exactly what was going to happen, but we had the feeling it was going to be interesting. A cassette recorder sat at the ready with a blank tape inside[2]. I pressed the record and play button together to initiate the recording function[3]. The song opened with this western-sounding cowboy riff which led into a snare drum fill after which we jumped into the song playing the song’s main punk riff along with Dave’s “real” drumbeat! 

Wow! We sound like a real band! This is amazing! We couldn’t believe it. Some of us were giggling quietly to ourselves and some out loud. It was so thrilling. We ran through the song a few times recording it twice and then we tried to play through a few Metallica covers. Dave could play along to anything I threw at him though it was clear that he was not particularly familiar with early Metallica stuff. His drumbeat to “Whiplash” was almost a funk beat rather than a thrash beat! We found that funny but played it like that anyway. Despite our differences I could see that playing music with Dave was a new experience and had a lot of potential. 

It wasn’t long after that first jam session together that we would have our first gig. My uncle and aunt invited me and my “band” to play at their son Chris’s first birthday party in late May. This “gig” took place in the basement of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church on Avenue J in Flatlands, Brooklyn. Primal Target that day was a trio of Mike, Dave, and me (Roddy couldn’t make it). We ran through whatever songs we had previously worked on which included the oddly inappropriate “(They All Suck) And I Laugh” and then our loop ad-infinitum cover version of Otis Redding’s “Dock of the Bay”. After a few other rough and incomplete songs, we had exhausted our material. One of the patient crowd members (which consisted of family members of various generations) kindly started to clap insinuating that we were done and that it would be good to pack it up and call it a day. I got the feeling that we were a bit noisy for the tastes of most of the people in the audience. Afterwards we went outside onto the churchyard lawn and played with the other kids.

Also in May, I received Confirmation[4] at St. Thomas Aquinas. As part of this I needed to have a sponsor. I asked Mom’s cousin Tommy to be my sponsor. Beyond the religious significance, for many ordinary Catholic pre-teens, the exciting aspects of this big event were often a party and gifts. One such Confirmation gift I received was my sponsor Tommy’s old 60’s Vox electric guitar. It was a cool-looking instrument and remined me of an old-fashioned musical era.

Dave and I continued to jam often in the basement of his parent’s house or sometimes by me. We tried to retain the shape of Primal Target as a band, but it was a slippery slope. Mike Florino moved to New Jersey in June and Roddy was not taking the bass that seriously and the musical gap was painfully obvious at times. Sometimes we would be joined by Dave’s older brother Mark who was a few years older than me and had been playing longer. I was impressed by his musical skill and friendliness. I felt that older kids were usually a bit bossy or otherwise unpleasant to younger kids. Mark was different. It was from him that I first truly learned the verse riff of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train”. He also was studied up on some popular guitar parts that I hadn’t yet learned, which was inspirational.

By the end of the 7^th grade, Mike Florino had moved to New Jersey. When he had broken the news to me about the move, I was indignant. Who do his parents think they are taking away my best friend in school?! I intended that Mike and I would remain friends throughout the years. In the summer Mom drove me out to spend the weekend at Mike’s place in Manalapan. His house was within a development where the houses were of a similar make and model. I was impressed with the large grassy areas and loved that it was an enclosed community with little traffic so kids could play freely throughout the neighborhood. After learning that we were from Brooklyn, one of Mike’s new friends said “Wow, Brooklyn! So, you guys have a gun, right?” I had to laugh at the amazing misperception of city life by someone from an out-of-state suburb.

I enjoyed visiting the Florino’s new home. Everything seemed new and modern. It had central air and a unique layout compared to Brooklyn homes I was familiar with. The basement was dedicated to the three kids of the house with a TV, toys, kids-size drum set, Mike’s black and white Fender Squier electric guitar and Crate amplifier. Mike and I filmed a video of us jamming with his parents’ camcorder. He played guitar and I played drums. We jammed on Metallica and Black Sabbath riffs as well as our one original “(They All Suck) And I Laugh”. His father drove me back to Brooklyn as Mike had a doctor’s appointment there. That was the last time Mike and I really hung out in person.

We returned to Norway on a summer trip. Billy and I were annoying for Mom to manage but still at a decent age for her to be able to exert her influence. We stayed again at the house of Nana’s younger brother, Uncle Edvard, a kind and gracious host and uncle-figure. He took us outside to pick potatoes in his field. He handed each of us the pitchfork, showed us what to do and we filled half a bucket together with fresh potatoes. Uncle Edvard took us on hikes. We visited several old German bunkers, remnants of WWII, as well as a shipwreck from 1970 with the body of the vessel sitting there rusty on the shore. 

The flavor of family and friends in Norway was different than at home. I was surprised at how calm and peaceful everybody seemed to be and how young and old could play together from little kids to adults. Girls and boys played together as well without any noticeable drama. The feeling of being at a party with many cousins and still playing in the yard together at 10pm because there was plenty of light was surreal. Sometimes being together with so many cousins was uncomfortable in a good way. I didn’t want to miss this rare opportunity to get to know my family members, but I was a bit shy. Much of our bonding inevitably came from playing games and being involved in activities together. On the one hand I felt like I was cool because I was an American and a musician. But on the other hand, I felt that my cousins were generally a bit tougher than me physically and had me beat in speaking a second language. I tried to hold my own with soccer, volleyball, climbing, and physical activities. I was given a chance to row a rowboat out into a fjord. I managed in a discombobulated way. 

Back in Brooklyn, jams with Dave had become less focused as we did not really have a “band” per se. Dave would sometimes be more interested in going to the mall than in making music. As our mutual interest in jamming faded, we drifted apart.

On a shopping trip to Walgreens with Mom one day, I found an awesome issue of Guitar for the Practicing Musician. The cover featured a superstar photo of guitarist Randy Rhoads with news that Quiet Riot rarities had been released at last. The issue included transcriptions of Quiet Riot’s “Laughing Gas” (including the big Randy guitar solo), a simple fingerstyle version of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”, and a snippet of the “Twilight Zone Theme” transcribed for guitar. It was a super inspirational magazine with many gems which inspired me on many levels including opening me to fingerstyle guitar.

One of the great gifts I received from jamming with Dave Evans was that I learned how to play drums myself by observing him through osmosis. As I began to practice on the orange sparkly Frankenstein drum set in The BASEment, the same phenomenon was happening with Jack Longman. He would watch me play and before long he wanted to try playing drums. He soon got the idea. Next thing you knew, I plugged in my guitar. Jack and I began to experiment with jamming on riffs and songs together.

In September I began 8^th grade at St. Thomas Aquinas. There were activities around which high school we would all be attending. I got up early one morning to visit Regis High School[5] in Manhattan. I was impressed but intimidated by the atmosphere. I wanted to go to a “good” high school but wasn’t sure I wanted to be accepted there. Tuesday, September 28^th was High School Night at St. Thomas. In the gymnasium there were tables set up with reps from the various Catholic high schools in the five boroughs. Some seemed easy to get into and others quite challenging. All were private schools and would cost Mom a lot of money. Part of me thought staying in a Catholic school would be good because familiar, yet another part sensed the financial reality of my family, and I did not want to cause Mom unnecessary hardships in that regard. So, I was beginning to accept that public school was probably going to be the best bet for me.

On Saturday, October 30^th I slept over Nana’s house, still one of my favorite ways to spend the weekend. After dinner I watched TV with them such as the evening news and Empty Nest. By 11pm Nana and Bampa had gone to bed, and I now had free reign over the living room and TV. According to my plan, I turned to channel 29 (MTV). At midnight The Headbanger’s Ball commenced. It was the “Halloween ’93 Special with Danzig and Motörhead”. As Bill and Ted would say, “Excellent!” Some of the Halloween-ish videos featured that night were Alice Cooper’s “Welcome to My Nightmare”, Ozzy Osbourne’s “Bark at the Moon”, Motörhead’s “Hellraiser”, Type O Negative’s “Black No. 1”, Megadeth’s “Go to Hell”, Pantera’s “Cemetery Gates”, King Diamond’s “Welcome Home”, Mötley Crüe’s “Looks That Kill”, and most significantly for me, Helloween’s epic anthem “Halloween”. This was the first time I had ever encountered the German power metal band Helloween. The video was fun and goofy. The musicianship and vocals were exceptional! I couldn’t forget the name and it was not long at all before I hunted their albums down in local music shops and picked up copies of Keeper of the Seven Keys, Pt. 1, and Pt. 2.

On Friday November 19th, I visited the Poconos for the first time. My family and I went on a trip with family friends the Galligans. Once in town we stopped at Ace Hardware to purchase a fire log. Hmm, a real fireplace? Then we stopped at a supermarket. I was given some money to buy whatever I wanted and chose a six pack of Reese’s peanut butter cup two-packs. Now this is living! We brought an amateur telescope along on this chilly trip. We took it out onto the back deck that night and pointed it towards the moon and what we believed to be Mars. Man, this is exciting!Perhaps I believed the telescope would be a window into another world completely, almost like turning on a sci-fi movie. We were disappointed when we realized that we were not going to get much more than a refined image of what we could already see with the naked eye.

In December, MTV began to air another new show which I found hilarious and quickly became addicted to - The State[6]. In addition to guitar songbooks and some other cool music-related items, Christmas was made a bit merrier by an overdose of Metallica. They had just released their box set, Live Sh*t: Bing and Purge that November which was perfect timing for a holiday gift. It cost around $100 so for a kid fan like me, I certainly needed a special occasion such as a holiday to acquire such a pricey item. It came in a cool road-style box which featured hours of Metalli-joy inside: three live CDs, two VHS tapes, a photograph book, and a stencil for spray-painting or airbrushing. Into the New Year and well beyond, I indeed indulged in hours of live Metallica particularly enjoying the VHS tapes. And it was aptly titled, after consuming so much live Metallica, one did get kind of sick.