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Why I Created ArtistWorks

learning guitar

In the early sixties we were hearing the backbeat of something new, sounds emanating from a store-front recording studio downtown on Union Boulevard. Sam Phillips was at the control board weaponizing Elvis and Carl, and he was about to destroy corporate pop music once and for all.  It was a reverse Sherman's March, a southerner's music revenge, and it was reeking havoc on the New York-controlled pop music scene.  

At the same time, out in the west Dick Dale and his LA-based surf music perpetrated an ocean-to-ocean instrumental guitar assault on American radio.  Guitar music was suddenly everywhere, from the driving rock-a-billy music from Tennessee to the blasting hang-tens of surf music from California.  It was nothing short of an infection, an illness:  Every mother's son had to have a guitar.
My across-the-back-fence neighbor, only-child Wayne, received our neighborhood's first real guitar. I remember taking a turn or two  holding it and plucking its open strings.  But Wayne mostly hogged it for himself, making the rest of us jealous and frustrated.  Wayne would come home from his Saturday guitar lesson at Jack Marshall music store and show off what he had learned that day, playing such early surfer songs such as the Chantay's "Pipeline", Travis Wammack's "Scratchy", and the Ventures' "Walk Don't Run".  I wanted a guitar so bad I just couldn't stand it.  I would have to wait the childhood eternity of two long years, until I was eleven years old, to finally get a guitar of my own.  
Next:  A Guitar Arms Race
learning guitar