ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This might be the best thing about having your own website:  a dedicated space to thank the people who’ve meant so much to you over the course of your musical arc.

 

This website features solo work.  But every square inch of it is the product of the warmest collaboration:  music is a thing to be shared, from the buddy who sang harmony to your melody, to the luthier who dressed the frets on your guitar, to the guy down the hall who showed you that one lick off the A formation, to the records you played over and over, back in the day, to figure out how he or she made that sound right after where you dropped the needle.

Music doesn’t exist in a vacuum.  It only comes to life in our open hearts, and blossoms when we play it with others, when we share what we’ve mutually discovered and embraced.  I’ve never had a formal guitar or voice lesson; but in no sense am I ‘self-taught’:  I’ve learned at the feet of so many friends, so many shining musical examples, who’ve directed my musical journey, modest as it is, through their expertise, their deep regard for music, and their kind generosity.

If you have a deep response to music, you understand that the best music walks hand-in-hand with love and gratitude.  

I urge you to skip the following if it’s boring.  You won’t recognize these people.  But I require a big, fat acknowledgements list, because so many good people have had a huge impact on this part of my life.  It’s my joy to remember them and tell them what they’ve meant to me.

Chronological’s as good as any other order, I guess:

My mother, Pat, who always has a song in her heart, and who taught her young son to harmonize college fight songs, driving around Grosse Pointe in the Country Squire;

My piano teacher, the late and completely wonderful Camella Ehrlich (New England Conservatory of Music); and my organist/choirmaster at St. Paul’s Episcopal Cathedral, the late Elwyn Davies (Royal College of Organists).  Musicians of breathtaking skill.  Both of you:  entirely in my corner; eternally enthusiastic; optimistic; and so encouraging.  Both of you, independently:  sitting me down at age eleven, looking me in the eye, and telling me to seriously consider a career in music.  Of course I completely ignored you.  Do I get even partial make-up credit for this eleventh-hour, cents-on-the-dollar, back-door entry into the game, in a form neither of you would recognize?

Brian F.X. Murphy,

of Westfield, New Jersey, Columbia University, and, later, capitalism.  You showed me how it’s done, guitar and voice, one unforgettable June night, Harvard Yard, in the 70s.  What a musical performer.  Later, you put your guitar in my hands, when you weren’t feeding me bounce-passes at the top of the key.  Great musician; great athlete; great friend; and so generous.  I still remember.  Still grateful.

The great Tom Broadbent, troubadour extraordinaire, who as a busy, popular Penn senior somehow found time for a goofball frosh who wanted to someday play guitar like Tom Broadbent.  You are the nicest man — a shining example of how music inspires even the best players to share what they know and encourage others to take the first faltering steps.  One of the clearest folk voices I’ve ever heard; and such a natural guitar fluency.  Still grateful for your musical expertise and warm heart.

Steve Taub and Dick Levy, who clobbered me with a thousand records during our early college days and forever altered the way I listen to music.  Steve, you definitely win the prize:  nobody knows more about recorded popular rock music than you do.  Nobody.

 

The men of Pennsylvania Six-5000, Penn’s oldest a cappella group — so much music, so many big laughs, so many lifelong friends.  Electing me to Music Director — was I ever prouder of anything?  Jack Madani — Eddie Allinson — Mike Jackman — too many greats to name.  That was the club to end all clubs.

Dr. Edward Fathers, leading neurologist, fellow Cambridge Footlight, ‘Clever Drinking’ bandmate, and partner in crime — what a guitar player you are.  I didn’t know finger-vibrato could go that deep on a fretboard until you showed it to me.  Funniest musician ever.  My brother from another country.

Caz Weller Knight, soprano, who showed me how to play guitar accompaniment to a vocal line.  I learned a million singing tricks from you, when you weren’t watching.  Was anyone ever born with a better voice than yours?  Such music. 

  • The Grunyons

    Travel — harmonizing — laughing out loud. More than a decade, getting to know so many of you so intimately. I mourn the passing of so many great musicians I was lucky to call friend.

  • Bandmates

    So many great bandmates over the years. Hung Jury — fourteen years together — Bill Cataldo, Joe Hoover, and the Birch Brothers, Paul and Ed — a million late-night gigs, and maybe two million laughs. How much did we learn about stagework together? Every memory a good one. We rocked like a cow in the wind.

  • The Caputo Brothers, Dan and Dean.

    I grew up three houses down the block from you, and here we are still playing great music together, with my man Ken Lucas keeping the beat. I didn’t know people could actually play rock music — thought it was something that only happened on records — until I saw you do it in your basement after baseball practice. Your musicianship is through the roof. I am so proud to stand among you all onstage with The Bourbon Project. It’s a place of honor.

  • Jason Hinz,

    leader of the Eastside Jazz Trio, and my two-man acoustic partner. Without doubt the best, most accomplished, most naturally talented, most modest guitar player I’ve ever met. There’s nothing you can’t do on the instrument. In fact, more than a decade’s worth of gigs, and I’ve never heard you hit a wrong note! Every time I sit down to your left to play a job, I pinch myself at the privilege of it. You are a miracle combination of Giant Talent and Invisible Ego — year after year, and we’ve never had the slightest quarrel or cross word. Even when I show up five minutes past the last-possible-second, seven shows in a row!

  • James Barnaby, Byron Brothers, and Big John Gamber,

    my partners in The Uncalled Four. I have such a good time with you; and our guerrilla singing performances are inspiring me to kick down the Musical Door in my new state of Arizona. Are we too old to join another fraternity? Excited to see where our association takes us.

  • Candis Koch,

    owner/visionary of the Tin Fish restaurant empire — you believed in me, backed me, and kept me for years on some of the best stages in the Detroit area. I’ll never forget.

  • Chuck Pasque,

    great recording producer and friend. World’s most generous musician.

  • Dann LoValvo,

    bass player, singer, and the warmest heart in the business. You are such a gentleman — great bandmate — and boy, do we ever share the same taste in music. Hope you’ll throw me a few more song suggestions.

  • Mike Edmunds, Mark the Luthier,

    and the rest of the gang at Huber Breese Music. Great independent music store, and such an incredible resource for Detroit east side musicians. You’ve solved a million tech problems for me with your knowledge and great advice. It’s a stretch to say any brick-and-mortar store is a family — but it sure feels that way when I walk in there.

  • Tim Mulqueeny and Harry Howard

    at Atomic Guitar Works in Phoenix. There’s nothing you can’t fix. Everything I leave in your hands plays better when I walk out of your workshop. Best luthiers in the desert.

  • Dax Bryan of Dax & Co.,

    Columbia, Pennsylvania. What a craftsman you are.

  • Passion Graham,

    Events Manager at Desert Mountain Club, and now Director of Operations at The Governor's Club in Chapel Hill.  You are a one-of-a-kind inspiration who brings out the very best in everyone you meet.  Judicious decision-making, prompt communication, encouragement, thoughtfulness -- you write the playbook on how to treat people with consideration and professionalism.  I've never met a leader I respected more.  I'm just one of the many lives you've touched for the better; and I will never forget you.

  • And, finally, Suzanne,

    my great wife, who took possession of me in as-is, where-is condition, without representation or warranty, either express or implied; and who leaves the house without protest or fanfare when everyone shows up for band practice on Wednesdays. How does Manilow sing it? This one’s for you/Wherever you are.