Stop me if you've heard the story... By 8th grade, all I wanted was to be in a rock and roll band. Problem was, I was all thumbs on the guitar. But I had been singing for years, so after school every day, I'd close my bedroom door, put on a record and sing along at the top of my lungs with Eric Burdon (The Animals), , Mark Lindsay (Paul Revere and The Raiders), Micky Dolenz (The Monkees) and more of my vocal heroes. One afternoon, there was a knock at the door, and two guys from my homeroom were standing in the hallway. "We were walking by the house and heard you out front. We want you to be the singer in our band."
Time stopped. In that moment, I got a golden ticket into the wondrous world of music making, transcendent joy and girls. We rehearsed in our families' living rooms and garages, playing for the relatives and neighbors. We tackled everything we heard on Texas radio with the Big Beat, played a few dances and even competed in a battle of the bands judged by Billy Gibbons and The Moving Sidewalks (pre-ZZ Top). Looking back, I have come to the conclusion that rock and roll is wasted on the young. Those of us who stuck with the curse and the craft have an understanding that eclipses all of those dreams we had at age 15. At 25 or 30 years in, you're just starting to understand this stuff, right?
So this is me taking a trip back to the psychedelic ‘60s to rescue that skinny kid and the girl with kaleidoscope eyes. It's one last heartfelt attempt to reclaim the innocence and joy I felt playing in the garage with that junior high band for an audience of kids and neighbors gathered on the sidewalk. Props to The Monkees who made it a hit for Carole King and Gerry Goffin, but I'm really proud of how the band rocks the version that closes out the journey down Salvation Road.
Won't you come with me, leave yesterday behind and take a giant step outside your mind... | Watch the official video for Take A Giant Step!
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