Ernest Boshey
B. Eastman
English Comp 1
09/17/08
Art of Music
Music the sweet sounds that sooth the savage beast, or in some cases an ear shattering
ruckus that awakens the beast to action. I have always been interested in music, as I grew up
my mother's influence was Hank Williams SR as I helped wash the dishes as she cleaned the rest
of the house. His lonesome songs played on an acoustic guitar haunted my soul, even to this
day. The song “I saw the Light“ is a family favorite one my mother grew up on, as my
grandfather loved that song being a lay reader in the church, and he passed the love for that song
down to her as she passed it down to me. Others include Patsy Kline, Janis Joplin, and Loretta
Lynn, all had their turn when chores had to be done. When things where done then the tempo
changed and on would come Marvin Gaye, The Four Tops, Diana Ross, and Stevie Wonder they
would unwind and relax the rest of the day and night away.
My father was more of a Rocker than my mothers country and R&B tastes, helping him
outside fixing the old green Oldsmobile on a sunny day in summer we would have on Black
Sabbath and Jimmy Hendrix. Handing my dad tools and getting greasy crawling into the
shadows under the car to see what he was fixing, learning what I could as “ Iron Man “ blasted
from the rear speakers. Wiggling out as Jimmy wails out “Excuse me while I kiss the sky” and
me looking up at the clouds rolling across the pale blue sky.
Now as I got older and in Junior High and High School my love for music never stopped,
it grew more as I learned new bands and explored the past for lost artists. I was the first in my
school to have the tape of Guns and Roses – Appetite for Destruction, my friends all wanted to
listen and have their parents buy them the tape too. We would play air guitar and beat
imaginary drums to the deafening beat and loud screams of Axel Rose, in my friend's garage till
late in the night.
It was during that time I went to my first concert, Metallica with the “And Justice for
All” tour with Queensryche as the opening act. It was a deafening experience but one I would
have done a thousand more times if possible. Being very resourceful me and my friend
Mukwha had got a pint of cinnamon schnapps to sip on before we went. We were feeling pretty
good when the show started, the lights went out and a low buzz filled the old Met Center in
Bloomington MN as people began to murmur to each other the show was to begin soon. The
lonesome heartfelt tune of “One “ started to play and the lights slowly came alive and danced on
stage highlighting Hetfield and Hammett as they strummed and struck a dueling cadence on their
guitars. Smoke filled the air as people smoked cigarettes and other stuff, one person in front of
us on the main floor looked back at us and handed us both a joint and told us to enjoy. We were
both amazed at the comradery and acceptance at the show all had toward each other, we all came
to see a great band, play great songs and enjoy a bit of freedom from our normal existence.
I found swing bands and old jazz during High School, the happy toe tapping melodies of
Benny Goodman or the long soulful instrumentals of John Coltrane. Classical music came to
the front during this time too. I would skip school with my best friend Brian and we would
sneak off to his parents garage and smoke some herb and feel our mind expand on thoughts we
probably never would have had if straight. We talked on heady subjects and matched wits at
chess, which I normally lost as I was a novice but eager to learn what I could. He was learning
to play guitar at this time and had both an electric and acoustic, I would read novels as he
practiced. But at times I would be drawn to the various sounds his guitars would make and sit
in rapt attention. Listening to each note and watching where and when his fingers moved and
danced along the fret board. Asking questions as to why he did something and if it was possible
to do it another way. At this time in our lives he was not very patient and was not a good teacher
but tried to answer as best as he could to my thousands of questions.
After many of ear splitting shows and drunken stupors, it is still an adrenaline rush to be
in the crowd. Thousands of pushing and shoving people all trying to get a good view of the
band, moshing in the pit to a never ending industrial breath taking pace. Sweat flying and
rolling off you as the body heat from the crowd raises the temperature of club. Every one
singing the lyrics to the songs, mostly out of tune but happy to give it their all. At the end of it
all every one screams for “MORE“, and if we are lucky they will oblige with a encore or two.
When it does finally end we all wander off in the cool night air that chills our sweat slicked,
bruised and battered bodies, but not feeling a thing from the booze and excitement of another
great show we saw.
I have watched a few bands and many of my close friends practice their art and have
always wanted to try. Now last year my best friend Brian whom I skipped many a day of High
School with, after one of his and another of our friends jam session asked if I wanted to learn, I
accepted his offer and he handed me a old acoustic and showed me a few simple riffs they were
both working on for the song “Welcome Home Sanitarium“ by Metallica. After a few jam
session lessons as they practice and me practicing the rhythm guitar parts, I showed I was a quick
study and my friend was impressed. The next time we got together he brought his second
electric guitar and told me to try that and it was a lot easier as the frets are closer but the tough
steel strings hurt the tips of my soft fingers. I kept up my practice so I could keep up with their
quick tempo and learned a few other riffs when and where I could, as they got the lead parts
down to a science and switched back and forth on who was leading and who was rhythm.
That night when I got a ride home we talked about the differences between the acoustic
and electric, what one can and not do, the pros and cons, and songs we would like to learn, him
more classical like the Spanish piece he was working on that our friend Javier was teaching him.
Me more toward older Metallica songs and wanting to learn to play Chopin’s piano piece “The Funeral March”
with its slow but unmistakable tune. As he pulled up to my house we said our good byes and asked if we
were going to meet up again next week, which we always did, he told me not to forget my guitar, as I started
to shut the car door. I was perplexed as I didn’t have one and asked if he hit his head, he chuckled lightly at
my jest and told me the red Ibanez I was practicing with that night was to be my new toy. I was shocked and
in awe at the gift my best friend was giving me. I thanked him profusely for such a wonderful gift, and he told
me to use my gift I was learning, the art of music.