Fast forward to when the Fab Four released St. Pepper. I was still a young kid, living in suburbia and practicing the violin six hours a day. I had a best friend next door named Billy and we invariably had a rivalry going.
It was very simple; if he liked Chevys, I liked Fords, if he liked rock music, I liked classical. Secretly, however, I was growing more fascinated by this phenomenon called The Beatles.
I began to suspect that I was missing something, being in a practice room six hours a day and it certainly didn’t escape my notice that the chicks all liked the cool ‘stoner’ kids.
Despite this, I clung to the notion that rock music was a childishly simple and debased form of music compared to the mastery of the classics.
When I got to high school, I got accepted into a prestigious music conservatory, the Peabody Conservatory of Music in Baltimore. With things seemingly pretty much set up for success in music, I decided to relax a bit and started to party some.
My friend John, a bassoon player in the school orchestra turned me on to getting high and we made our own wine.
Friday night became the designated party night at John’s with a half dozen or so other high school chums. We would get wasted and go to the football games at school or cruise Route 66, stopping at Bob’s Big Boy for the late night munchies.
I had no clue what was in store for me when I went off to Baltimore to go to the Peabody where the rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun.
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