Did You Know? Part One: I Am A Rock Legend
As many youngins do in their youth I participated in the school's band program in Elementary School. It was there I discovered my affinity for long tubes of wood and moving air through them to create sounds -- some called it "music"; I think they were just being sympathetic as they said it through gritted teeth. Unlike most, however, I continued with the program into my high school years.
Protip: Continuing with musical education into high school turns you into a band geek.* Beatings thusly commence by those with inferior musical talent.
It was in high school that I learned that I could not only play three or four different types of saxophones and clarinets, I was able to give my vocal chords a rest by playing the bass guitar. Oh yes -- there I was, Rick Pierce of age 16 -- wielding a bass like some sort of Dwarven Axe (notice the use of fantasy elements to complete the nerd metaphor) whilst rocking out with my peers in a garage. I felt at that time that I was the greatest asset to ever grace the pages of the history of Rock & Roll.
But alas, it wasn't to last. The band eventually disbanded in my senior year after only a handful of shows and I moved onto worrying about girlfriends and college attendance (or lack thereof).
Fast forward to September of this last year. A game, a video game, was released called "Guitar Hero III: The Legends of Rock." I picked it up, having only played Guitar Hero II a few times, and discovered a beautiful thing: I could rock out. I rocked out with my wife. I rocked out with my daughter. I rocked out with my parents. I rocked out with my socks out (I rocked my socks?). And suddenly, as I moved up from easy mode to medium, I started to get better at rocking out. With each song notched under my belt with a series of stars, I soon moved up to hard (which was hard). But I got better. I rocked out more. Can I put the words "rock out" in this paragraph any more times? I just did.
Two weeks ago I decided I was enough of a "guitar hero" to warrant a recording, which I then placed on YouTube to the delight of my fans, a throng thousands strong.
Not my best work, but as described in the video itself I had a small dog distracting me at every measure. I have excuses, which validate the poor performance.
At a recent church gathering for our young men (of which I help with) on the Wednesday before that video was filmed, Guitar Hero III was brought in as an activity. I had not expressed anything other than a passing interest to the teens during class on Sunday that I enjoyed the game. The console was brought out, hooked up, and turned on. Feigning knowledge when it was my turn ("Oh, you push down to make it play noise? I think I'll just start out on Hard and see how far I get.") I proceeded to melt the faces of the teenagers around me with some finger-numbing shreds. I would later go on to describe the experience as "glorious."
Jon came over to my apartment last night, after many day changes (we originally scheduled for two previous Fridays ago). With him he brought the game Rock Band, a game that is similar to Guitar Hero except that it includes a number of customizable features of your character and allows you to play not only the guitar, but a bass, drums, and a microphone to sing into ala karaoke. The microphone was the only instrument unused last night, as none of us thought we were decent enough to carry a tune with others around.
Knowing that neither Jon or Lynette, my wife, wanted to play the drums, I did the gentlemanly thing and offered to play them. To my surprise I had a good time, even though previous attempts to play the drums in the past resulted in people telling me to "stop that noise!" But in Rock Band, I must have found my groove because I was simply awesome. There are no other words to describe my performance. Jon and Lynette did alright.
Our first decision was a name for the band. After a few minutes we concluded that "Delicious Agony" was the coolest name we had ever heard of. It was meant to be. We then each created a character. Mine was "Kevin," a sheepish teen with enough pitch-black hair to cover his face almost completely. After a few shows we had earned enough money that the band let me go buy a new sweatshirt, some jeans, and boots. I also ordered some black eye-liner to complete the look. Any emokid would have been proud. Or sad. Or whatever it is they feel/don't feel. (I have no idea how it works.)
Our fans increased, we earned more money, and soon we were moving from Seattle to the Bay Area and then the City of Angels. We eventually made stops in New York and Boston. My drum solos only got better and that in turn bolstered my confidence. Soon I was clacking my sticks together to set the beat for the band before a song would begin. At the end of a performance I would throw my sticks into the air with a flourish.
And with that singularly defining act, it was secured:
I am a rock legend.
* I swear Wikipedia actually has a band geek page. How sad.
Editor's Note: Needs more cowbell!
Protip: Continuing with musical education into high school turns you into a band geek.* Beatings thusly commence by those with inferior musical talent.
It was in high school that I learned that I could not only play three or four different types of saxophones and clarinets, I was able to give my vocal chords a rest by playing the bass guitar. Oh yes -- there I was, Rick Pierce of age 16 -- wielding a bass like some sort of Dwarven Axe (notice the use of fantasy elements to complete the nerd metaphor) whilst rocking out with my peers in a garage. I felt at that time that I was the greatest asset to ever grace the pages of the history of Rock & Roll.
But alas, it wasn't to last. The band eventually disbanded in my senior year after only a handful of shows and I moved onto worrying about girlfriends and college attendance (or lack thereof).
Fast forward to September of this last year. A game, a video game, was released called "Guitar Hero III: The Legends of Rock." I picked it up, having only played Guitar Hero II a few times, and discovered a beautiful thing: I could rock out. I rocked out with my wife. I rocked out with my daughter. I rocked out with my parents. I rocked out with my socks out (I rocked my socks?). And suddenly, as I moved up from easy mode to medium, I started to get better at rocking out. With each song notched under my belt with a series of stars, I soon moved up to hard (which was hard). But I got better. I rocked out more. Can I put the words "rock out" in this paragraph any more times? I just did.
Two weeks ago I decided I was enough of a "guitar hero" to warrant a recording, which I then placed on YouTube to the delight of my fans, a throng thousands strong.
Not my best work, but as described in the video itself I had a small dog distracting me at every measure. I have excuses, which validate the poor performance.
At a recent church gathering for our young men (of which I help with) on the Wednesday before that video was filmed, Guitar Hero III was brought in as an activity. I had not expressed anything other than a passing interest to the teens during class on Sunday that I enjoyed the game. The console was brought out, hooked up, and turned on. Feigning knowledge when it was my turn ("Oh, you push down to make it play noise? I think I'll just start out on Hard and see how far I get.") I proceeded to melt the faces of the teenagers around me with some finger-numbing shreds. I would later go on to describe the experience as "glorious."
Jon came over to my apartment last night, after many day changes (we originally scheduled for two previous Fridays ago). With him he brought the game Rock Band, a game that is similar to Guitar Hero except that it includes a number of customizable features of your character and allows you to play not only the guitar, but a bass, drums, and a microphone to sing into ala karaoke. The microphone was the only instrument unused last night, as none of us thought we were decent enough to carry a tune with others around.
Knowing that neither Jon or Lynette, my wife, wanted to play the drums, I did the gentlemanly thing and offered to play them. To my surprise I had a good time, even though previous attempts to play the drums in the past resulted in people telling me to "stop that noise!" But in Rock Band, I must have found my groove because I was simply awesome. There are no other words to describe my performance. Jon and Lynette did alright.
Our first decision was a name for the band. After a few minutes we concluded that "Delicious Agony" was the coolest name we had ever heard of. It was meant to be. We then each created a character. Mine was "Kevin," a sheepish teen with enough pitch-black hair to cover his face almost completely. After a few shows we had earned enough money that the band let me go buy a new sweatshirt, some jeans, and boots. I also ordered some black eye-liner to complete the look. Any emokid would have been proud. Or sad. Or whatever it is they feel/don't feel. (I have no idea how it works.)
Our fans increased, we earned more money, and soon we were moving from Seattle to the Bay Area and then the City of Angels. We eventually made stops in New York and Boston. My drum solos only got better and that in turn bolstered my confidence. Soon I was clacking my sticks together to set the beat for the band before a song would begin. At the end of a performance I would throw my sticks into the air with a flourish.
And with that singularly defining act, it was secured:
I am a rock legend.
* I swear Wikipedia actually has a band geek page. How sad.
Editor's Note: Needs more cowbell!
Labels: games
posted by Rick Pierce at
1:56 PM
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