Fame, Riches, Groupies and the Red Carpet.

These are all bi-products of hard work.  One can never set out with the intention of obtaining Fame, Riches, Groupies and the Red Carpet without it appearing obvious and “Tawdry” to say the least.

Sometimes those who attain the side effects of hard work without actually working hard will be exposed.  I’m not saying these people cannot eventually show the world hard work, but by then their reputation will have taken a hit and they will have, in the end, cheated themselves out of the true accolades they deserved.

Band Wagon success is no substitute for the original.  I’ll give you two simple examples.  When Blues master Stevie Ray Vaughan died, he not only raised sales at the Fender company, but every two bit guitarist that could play three chords had to own a tobacco sunburst Fender strat and wore a cowboy hat whether or not it suited him and grew a patch of hair above his chin.

Established “has been” guitarists even jumped on the Blues bandwagon.  From communities all over the U.S. blues bands got a shot in the arm.  Albums were released as “Tribute Albums”.  (Cover Albums).

Does anyone remember Jonny Lang or (all three names) Kenny Wayne Shepherd?

One can only imagine how many careers were spawned by the death of ELVIS.  Even Asian Elvis’s get a huge applause when they show up with their sequenced jump suits.  Fat guys love doing Elvis.  Everybody with any appreciation for Country, blues or Rockabilly can enjoy that which was Elvis.  My personal favorite are the Flying Elvis’s and the Mexican Elvis aka Elvis Perez.

And Ironically, I believe it was Elvis that created the Pop Icon.  (Fame, Riches, Groupies etc…) It was the easy way to get rich, get noticed and get laid.  If you were from the Ghetto, you wanted to be the next Michael Jordan or even worse, the next “Snoop Dog”.  At least one had talent.

Keep these three things in mind.  Slam dunking does not make you Michael Jordan.  Being able to sing Hound Dog and squeezing a 50 inch gut into a sequenced jump suit and saying: “Thank you very much”.  Does not make you Elvis.  And even if you can smoke the blues on guitar, you’ll never be Stevie Ray Vaughan until the world is ready for another SRV.  Until then, find out who you “really are” because that will never go away.

Finally I must ask: “Do you want fame because you’ve made others happy or is it just your inner desire to be worshipped?

“In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes” ~ Andy Warhol

“Within everyone lies a genius. Is it fair to judge a fish on its’ ability to climb a tree”? ~ Albert Einstein

“Andy Where’s my 15 minutes” ~ David Bowie

“You’ve had the time. You’ve had the power. You’re yet to have your finest hour” ~ Roger Taylor (Drummer for the rock band Queen) from “Radio Gaga”

Ace Andres – On Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations”

on the Travel Channel

Do you know who you are? Have you decided what you are? Do you spend your days sitting your ass in front of a computer screen?  Do you take that mind polluting instrument to bed with you?  Do you find yourself becoming more and more a part of the Matrix?

I don’t want to spend the rest of my life reading about other people’s lives. I don’t want to watch the Bio channel and read about when Freddie Mercury told the public he was gay. I want to make my own mark on this life and let my death be the exclamation point. In spite of my daily pain, I’m going to become more than just a pronoun.

We all need to learn how to, love, live, learn and most importantly; We need to leave a legacy.

Have you had your finest hour or was it just 15 minutes of fame? 15 minutes?  “May it never be”. When I was in kindergarten we were all asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. At five years of age, when the other boys were saying occupations like “Policemen”, “Astronaut”, “Firemen”, “Soldiers” and other noble positions, I stood up and said I wanted to be like Elvis Presley. My Teacher was speechless.

I’m still waiting for my finest hour.

Emotion is what happens when your brain gives way to enzymes and hormones.  Logic is what occurs when your brain is allowed (or trained) to think three dimensionally.

This is a sad story that is only the beginning of an even sadder story which you can read about on line.  I will not get involved in the he said/She said accusations when greedy children and siblings fight over the estate of the dead.  That being said, let the story begin.

Garth Benton and Christine Rosamond

In the summer of 1993 my now ex-wife and I were “summering” in Carmel California.  (A town I would later and will always call home) But after having a posh taste of “scones and tea” we stepped inside a gallery owned by the world famous artist “Rosamond”.  The artist was not there at the time however her husband; Garth Benton was.   Garth (Pictured above) entertained us for over an hour as we talked about one of our unusual pets.  We owned a well trained iguana.

Little would either of us know that Garth would buy an iguana as a pet for their youngest child.  I would later find out that Rosamond would refer to this pet as the “Damn Iguana”.

On a later trip to Carmel by myself, I would purchase a piece by Rosamond for my soon to be ex.  When I went in to pick up the piece a few weeks later, Christine (whom she introduced herself to me as) greeted me with: “Oh so you’re the one with the Damn Iguana”.  After verbally abusing me for putting the idea in Garth’s head, we had a great discussion that seemed like it lasted two hours.  As an informal gesture of friendship, Christine personalized the back of the piece to the “Iguana Lady” and wrote some very nice well wishes.

Fast Forward about 5 months. The Ex and I got an Invitation to attend the new Gallery opening of Rosamond in Carmel.  Nobody was more excited than the ex as she had never met Christine.  And to be honest, I think Christine was looking forward to meeting the Iguana Lady.  So I rented a nice car for the drive to Carmel from the San Francisco Bay Area.  Hours before we were to leave to attend the party, the ex took the car to the store to buy something.  Upon returning, she misplaced the keys.  We looked everywhere and till this day they have not been found.  But because we both turned the house upside down looking for these keys, the Ex showed her immature emotional side and said: “I don’t want to go.  The moment is ruined”.  That is an exact quote. So we did not go.

3 weeks later Christine Rosamond died off the coast of Big Sur in the waters of the Pacific Ocean.  Apparently she was a victim of a rogue, freak 9th wave.   The Ex’s chances of ever meeting this great artist vanished with the 9th wave.

Not only was the moment ruined, but a chance to meet a wonderfully talented person forever was ruined due to an immature emotional tantrum to something as insignificant as losing a set of car keys. Please enjoy a few of “Rosamond’s” creations:

My Favorite: “Story Teller”                               Story Teller II                                  Story Teller III

This is how I will remember Christine Rosamond.

Please note that all of the images in this blog entry can be purchased at The Rosamond Publishing Company http://rosamond.com/

GARY’S DAD
A STORY OF DREAMS AND HOPE

I recorded my 3rd Album at the age of 52.  I didn’t even think about it.  A friend gave me an Idea and the music wrote its’ self.  But another friend, who was infatuated with my performance, told me a story that till this day is a story as sad as “Terms of Endearment”.

Gary (Not his real name) told me his father was a French Horn player and all of his life he wanted to play with a big band.  He also mentioned that his father was in his late 70’s.  The feeling of sadness hit me as if I had heard someone had been diagnosed with a terminal disease yet his father was clinching to this dream.  This was a disease that has been haunting me for most of my life.  Yet deep down under the tears and sadness I was able to scrape the goodness from this story.  Gary’s Dad was holding onto hope and optimism.  What kind of life can you live if you give up on hope?

I’m still able to put on a house shaking performance, but in 20 years, I doubt I’ll have the stamina or dexterity to tear a house down.  The other fear which I’m already starting to understand is that 20 years from now; nobody will give a damn about Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn or Freddie Mercury.  Just as many of you readers may have to query The Glenn Miller Orchestra.

What I took away from the the story of Gary’s Dad was that Dreams are goals without a timeline.  I wanted to make Gary’s Dad’s dream come true at the sake of sacrifincing my own dream. (Which is to play on stage with David Bowie). I found someone from the Glenn Millier Orchestra who said: “Get me a demo”.  When I went back to find Gary, I was told he had moved back across the country from California to the east coast to take care of his father who was/is ill.

I guess in the end; It doesn’t matter if you play lead guitar for David Bowie or French Horn for the Glenn Miller Orchestra.  Once you’ve achieved a dream, you need to have another to keep you going.  There is no finish line.  When you are called home, it will be much sooner than anyone would wish. I’ve had many dreams come true.  I have many more yet to fulfill.  Being David Bowie’s last guitarist on his last tour is amongst my lifelong dreams.

Keep Dreaming.