Pals, today we’re gonna forget that whole Wednesday RoundUp nonsense- because this very day marks the 12th round of chemo for my Dad in this session (24 rounds in all!), and that warrants a little Let’s Talk About My Dad-itude. (“Oh boy,” I can hear him saying. “Can you? Can you please really talk about me some more in public?”)
It’s no secret that my Dad has influenced the majority of my musical tastes (although he might strongly attempt to distance himself from that Def Leppard/Poison/Warrant rabbit hole I frequently fall into): blasting AC/DC on studio headphones for me at the tender age of 4. Popping Boston into the tape deck for long drives. Bringing me to see Etta and B.B. in high school when he could tell my life needed just a bit more awesome in it. Keeping Lyle and Garth and Reba and James in steady rotation during dinnertime, swapping them out for classical and Irish folk and soundtracks as the mood struck. And even now, I’ll receive a text or a (briefer than brief- his signature) voicemail telling me about a new track or artist that I should check out. So yes. The guy’s encyclopedic knowledge of All Things Music has affected the way I feel about songs and albums (and producers and studios and and…), but I’ve only recently realized how his knowledge of All Things Music has affected me in All Things Life.
“And then, in 1986, Bad Company replaced Paul Rodgers with Brian Howe…”
I love listening to new songs with my Dad; sitting together with ears slightly cocked towards the speakers, him holding a finger to indicate the coming bridge, and waiting for him to share just what made this track so special. “Listen…listen…there. Yeah? Man, that’s good.”
His oh-so frequent instruction to “take no prisoners” and just “buck up,” (something he demanded often in a household of four daughters full of Feelings) was eclipsed by his encouragement to not hold back, to punch it, to just “belt it.” (This was generally a musical direction, but it occasionally came as advice towards auditions or major life choices.)
And his predilection to crank it- because what’s the point in having the equipment if you’re not gonna- is the stuff of bumper stickers.
I think I’ve become better at listening- and waiting for the good part. At bucking up and belting out and cranking it like there’s no tomorrow. (Taking it to 11, if you will.)
See, Dad? I was paying attention all those years. So now it’s your turn to take your own advice: power through the last round of this session and get it done. You’ve got more people than you know rooting for you and wanting you back in action. I love you, Dad.
Take no prisoners.
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