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The last hippy poet of the woodstock generation
Excerpt-5: 1979, the last year of my twenties. Speaking of music . . .
Speaking of music and bands, the guy living upstairs from me in the duplex, whose name was also Steve, was in a heavy metal band—The Claw. He was a bass player and we would jam sometimes. Bass and congas go great together—a solid rhythm section.
One day I heard some cool keyboard music coming from Steve’s apartment, so I went upstairs to check it out. It turned out Steve was jamming with Doug Ingle, the keyboard player from Iron Butterfly. What a mind blower! I stood at the side of the room listening to them jam. It was incredible. They took a break and we all started talking. Then Steve said to me, “Hey! Why don’t you go get your congas?” I said, “Yeah!” I ran down stairs and dragged them up to Steve’s place, where the three of us jammed for several hours. We had a blast. It was awe-inspiring.
Steve and Doug were full of enthusiasm as they told me they were playing a gig together in a few days. It was at a soul club in South Central L.A. They asked me if I wanted to come and sit in with them. I said, “Hell yes—for sure--far out!”
The club in South Central was a super cool live music and bar scene. It kind of reminded me of that after-hours club in Birmingham, Alabama. I was absolutely into it. I drank, I danced—we played, we rocked. We clicked just like we had when we were jammin’ at Steve’s. The audience liked us, and they showed us their appreciation with exuberant applause and shouts.
I was thrilled that I had actually been given the opportunity to sit in with Doug Ingle, the man who wrote “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,” one of the classic rock songs of all time, with arguably the best organ solo—ever, in the history of rock and roll.
One day I heard some cool keyboard music coming from Steve’s apartment, so I went upstairs to check it out. It turned out Steve was jamming with Doug Ingle, the keyboard player from Iron Butterfly. What a mind blower! I stood at the side of the room listening to them jam. It was incredible. They took a break and we all started talking. Then Steve said to me, “Hey! Why don’t you go get your congas?” I said, “Yeah!” I ran down stairs and dragged them up to Steve’s place, where the three of us jammed for several hours. We had a blast. It was awe-inspiring.
Steve and Doug were full of enthusiasm as they told me they were playing a gig together in a few days. It was at a soul club in South Central L.A. They asked me if I wanted to come and sit in with them. I said, “Hell yes—for sure--far out!”
The club in South Central was a super cool live music and bar scene. It kind of reminded me of that after-hours club in Birmingham, Alabama. I was absolutely into it. I drank, I danced—we played, we rocked. We clicked just like we had when we were jammin’ at Steve’s. The audience liked us, and they showed us their appreciation with exuberant applause and shouts.
I was thrilled that I had actually been given the opportunity to sit in with Doug Ingle, the man who wrote “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida,” one of the classic rock songs of all time, with arguably the best organ solo—ever, in the history of rock and roll.
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