My Alternate Life's Calling

I want to talk about the harmonica tonight. Yeah, the harmonica.

I want to buy a hamonica and learn to play it like no man has ever played it before. A red harmonica that is slightly rusty from age. One that has some wear and tear to it, just waiting for its master to claim it. I want people to listen to my mad harmonica skills and wonder if I'm human.

To preface this all, I have no musical talent whatsoever. Maybe a little bit less than that. Probably the same as Fergie.

When I was in sixth grade, all the kids had to take a test to measure their innate musical talent. The kids who scored well went into the junior high band while the musically impaired went back to their dodgeball games.

If memory serves correct, I was the only kid to fail the test. That may be childhood memory inflation, but I know I failed it. Badly. For the test, we had to wear headphones. Two notes would sound off and we had to write down whether one note was higher than the other, or if they were the same. But after a while, they all started to sound the same.

My musical ignorance actually goes back further than that. When I was in fourth grade, our music teacher tried to teach us the notes. I didn't really care if Every Good Boy Deserved Fudge or not. I asked if the notes we were learning were same notes as what musicians like the Beatles used in their songs. She said, Well, kinda, but not exactly. I still don't know what she meant by that. It was a yes/no question. If she was teaching us notes that Paul and John didn't use, I didn't care to learn them. So, two years later, I couldn't tell the difference between pitches. Plus, I'd never make a good harmonicist because of the awkward arm, not knowing how to hold it and sing at the same time.

So, I don't know what makes me think I could even begin to learn to play the harmonica. But after listening to Dylan and Morrison, I think we have comparable music skills. Neither of them can sing that well. I'll admit to Morrison's stage presence, but Dylan is as charismatic as melba toast.

But, I'd want to be the enigmatic folk singer who plays the harmonica. The folk singer who wears Brooks Brothers and votes more Republican than not. The folk singer who likes Dubya. Oh, and has to be in bed by ten. Maybe 1 on the weekends.

More about the harmonica.

Growing up, I had a good friend, Brad, who wanted to be in a band. When he moved from Wimberley to Austin in junior high, he found a group of friends and put together a band. Brad was their lead harmonicist; but he had to quit shortly thereafter because he lost his harmonica.

Last I heard, he moved out to Los Angeles and is an artist/musician. I wonder if he stays up late at night, wonders where that harmonica went and where he'd be if he held on it.

So yeah, the harmonica has weighed heavily on my thoughts today. Not that if I actually went in search of one I'd know what to do with it.