O Jinga (above) and Rico P of the High
Hopes Band with Jahseph joined three
other Boston-area reggae bands —
Dis-N-Dat Band; The Uplifters; and
the Tom O’Brien Band—in a fundraiser
for homeless veterans at the Baseball
Tavern on November 8.

By Steve Harnish

I recently attended a concert at the Museum of Fine Arts by Alejandro Escovedo. His new CD chronicles his diverse musical history. I found the idea fascinating and thought I’d share my own.

Music was not a big part of my early life. No one in the family played an instrument and my parents didn’t listen to a lot of music. Music wasn’t discouraged; it just wasn’t a huge part of our lives. When I was 8 years old, we moved to Spain and my parents immersed us in the local culture, including its music. Some of my earliest memories of being moved by music come from that time. I remember my school bus driver used to listen to an old static-filled portable radio playing gypsy music. I was taken by the haunting vocals and primal guitar. The music of Spain invaded my subconscious for the four years we lived there. I find myself drawn to those types of music even today. The rapid-fire of a flamenco style guitar, the mix of African, gypsy and Spanish folk music and the incredible way the Spanish language lends itself to song.

One of the realities, though, of living in Spain under Franco was that American popular music was foreign to me. When we arrived back in the US in 1974, I had no idea what the names Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd and Elton John meant. As a 13-year-old-boy, I had some catching up to do and spent hours trying to answer the mysteries of puberty through my AM radio. It was a whirlwind, and any thoughts of flamenco music were pushed far back in my mind.

At the time I don’t think I realized it, but I was trying to take in everything and sift through it. I would listen to pretty much any musical genre, but as any teenage boy would, fell in love with rock ‘n’ roll. Living in Virginia, my friends and I got caught up in the Southern rock phenomenon: Lynyrd Skynrd, The Outlaws, Elvin Bishop and the Allman Brothers. My best friend’s brother was a roadie for the Allman Brothers, so we got to go backstage and meet them. While a lot of this was typical teenage rebellion rock, I was unknowingly laying a foundation for American roots music—blues, country, folk—that would develop later.

As I got further along in high school popular music began to bore me. Living in Virginia in the late 70s didn’t afford a lot of variety in music, but I met a couple of friends who were starting to look for new music. One was a very good musician and was starting to delve into obscure music catalogues; a kind of early mail order iTunes. I can recall one particular day very clearly. We were in a restaurant parking lot and my friends played a Rova Saxophone Quartet tape for me. It was raining and they put on the tape—a wild saxophone quartet. It sounded like total chaos and I’m sure my friends expected me to react negatively, run screaming from the car. But I was enthralled. Here was music that challenged my brain—I didn’t understand it, but it spoke to me in a way music never really had before.

From there we bonded over obscure music. We started hunting down these catalogues and would sit for hours listening to Rova, Meredith Monk, Anthony Braxton, Carla Bley, and this led to exploring their influences, which led to be-bop and Ornette Coleman and Henry Threadgill and Gregorian Chants and old blues music and eventually full circle to the punk music that was starting to take on the world.

After high school I uprooted myself and went off to explore the country. I found blues in Chicago, Jazz in Kansas City and discovered the Talking Heads. Away from Virginia, I also began to find people who knew the music my friends and I thought was our private vault.

I never thought about what music meant to me or how it spoke to me. But it was always there. I could spend an afternoon listening to old Elvis ballads or relieve pressure by blaring Sex Pistols in my car and screaming along. Through it all, scores of artists have captured my mind. The Big Three for me have always been Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and Tom Waits. They can do no wrong and have earned the right to revel in their mistakes.

When I moved to Boston in the mid 80s I discovered a proud, diverse and thriving local music scene. The best bands from all over the world would play here and I saw some amazing concerts. I learned that live music feeds your soul.

In the early 90s when the independent music scene exploded I felt a certain validation for toiling in music obscurity for so long. Bands that I loved and no one else had heard of were on the radio, being talked about. I couldn’t help but feel the music world was finally “getting it.” At the beginning of 2001, I started doing a radio show on WMFO at Tufts University. The experience has been great and widened my musical catalogue immensely.

When people ask me what kind of music I like I say good music. That changes from day to day for me in many respects. I’m constantly on the look-out for fresh, original music. Music is a primal part of my life and I treat the need for it as I would treat my hunger.

Have a great Holiday Season and keep feeding your musical soul.

If you’re curious about my radio show you can download the latest show at wmfo.org/modules/views/calendars. Just go to Friday, Nov. 21, and click on the Bingo Show link in the 7-9 p.m. slot.