Confession of a Wedding Musician
by John Schneider
I picked up my first official Elvis Presley guitar when I was ten years old. For many of us
-- growing up during the Elvis Era – life began with the knowledge that women would
swoon over any man with a guitar on stage. He didn’t even have to play the guitar as
long as he could swivel his hips and look incredibly sexy. I don’t think I looked sexy when
I was ten, but I’m positive “cute” was definitely a descriptor applied to me by older women
– older like my mother.
Okay, let me cleanse my mental palette of that memory and “shake, rattle and roll” into
high school where I learned to play an electric guitar and join a band because we all
wanted to be like The Beatles. The only thing vaguely similar to me and The Beatles
was our long hair. Unfortunately, wearing long hair and no socks in high school did not
endear me to the dean.
Ah, college and the precious “Paper Chase” toward some kind of career – like a Rock
Star! Yes? Oh, I’m afraid you know the answer already, but I’ll try leaving you in
suspense for a few more paragraphs, anyway. Here’s a clue: I’m not John Schneider,
the country singer and actor from “Dukes of Hazard,” but I met him once. I met a lot of
people, once. I remember every one of them, but they don’t have a clue about me.
Where was I? Oh, I was in college and determined to be in a band, so I put down my
electric guitar and bought a set up of drums from Sears Roebuck & Company (today
know simply as Sears). And I banged away until my friends could take it no longer. I did
eventually join a band called “The Electric Harpoons” and we definitely weren’t The
Beatles. My claim-to-fame was doing the drum solo in In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida for like and
hour – or so it seemed to the dwindling audience. This was The Sixties, however, and a
few folks under the influence thought I was incredibly talented. Where are they today?
They’re probably retired from politics.
Anyway, by the end of this incredible decade of important and very memorable music, it
was time to put away childish things, get married and have a family. Olay, I tried being
very responsible for a few years. I worked hard, mowed the lawn and paid the bills. It
was nice, but I longed for putting my hands on a musical instrument of some kind. Even
a kazoo would bring me some small measure of pleasure -- I would treasure. I can never
resist a good rhyme or alliteration. Anyway…
A bunch of us got together at work and decided we were all feeling the same way, so we
started a band. Unfortunately, there was already a really great guitar player and a
drummer. And they weren’t looking for a kazooist – just my luck. What to do?
What I didn’t tell you is that I grew up with a grand piano in every house in which we ever
lived. Fortunately, at the time, my folk never forced me to take piano lessons, so I didn’t.
Instead, I would sit down at the piano and improvise what probably seemed like musical
gibberish to my family. But you know how parents treat their adorable kids, right? No
matter how awful they sound, they sound wonderful and even worthy applause. The
applause felt good and I didn’t have to work very hard to receive it. Although, my parents
did limit the number of concerts I performed for their friends.
So, getting back to the story, I’m in this work-related rock band and suggest to the guys
that I play the electronic piano (pre-synthesizers and keyboards) because of the
tremendous adulation I received for playing the piano as a youngster. I’m in the band.
Hooray!
This paragraph in my story signifies a transition from a band that simply played rock
music for friends and family to a group of ambitious guys who wanted to make money by
playing at weddings and birthday parties. In my mind, they all sold out. It was like Bob
Dylan going from folk to rock. It was like The Rolling Stones doing Disco! I couldn’t do it.
I could not even force myself to take this musical journey because I knew it would divert
me from my goal of being famous.
Goodbye Weddings, and Hello Rock & Roll, Hootchie Koo!
Okay, here’s another transitional paragraph for the time I spent with a variety of bands
and playing a broad variety of songs for a incredibly diverse number of people. I refer
to this period as my Reflective Period – although I really never saw myself for who I was.
Maybe it was more like my “Keep Doing Something With Music Until You Know What
You Really Want To Do With Your Life” Period.
Meanwhile, remember the so-called wedding band? Oh, they were making money right
and left, and backwards and forwards. Then – one day – one of the guys in the Wedding
Band invited me to play with them at a wedding because their keyboard player was ill
and they had a really big wedding and reception to do.
Okay, I said with a reluctant tone in my voice, but I was actually excited for the opportunity
to get out of that last paragraph located right above this one. Great, he said on the phone
and he faxed over a list of songs we would play. Hey, these were all the songs I was
already playing – except, of course, for “The Electric Slide” and a few numbers by the
Carpenters. Ick!
I had to wear a tuxedo instead of jeans and work shirt. I even got a haircut on the
recommendation of the guy who called me. And when I arrived, I learned something that
my friend on the phone neglected to tell me. Thefront guy of the band – the keyboard
player who was out ill --- was supposed to be the Master of Ceremonies. WHAT??
You do it, John! You’re good at this kind of thing, they said. They were right. I was a
trained actor who worked in musicals on stage in New York, so I had a certain
charismatic personality and dramatic voice. I could be the Master of Ceremonies.
This wedding was huge, however. There must have been 500 people at the reception.
It was one of the biggest banquet halls I had ever seen in my life. Luckily, the wedding
was so big it had a coordinator. Today, I realize this person was actually the Wedding
Planner. She took me aside and patiently went over the program with me. We must
have spent 15 minutes together, but in that time I learned almost everything I know about
weddings today. No, I’m not that bad, but she was that good. She was a real pro and in
the end I felt confidentthat the “play” – I mean the wedding and reception – would be
successful.
I’ll never forget my first experience with performing and playing my music at the wedding
reception. It felt like I was part of someone’s personal celebration. I was awestruck by
the tremendous responsibility I was given to be humble yet boisterous. It was a
celebration of grace and spirituality as well as a party to end all parties. And I did it, and
I try to do it still today – to balance the beauty and splendor of this joyous occasion with
the enthusiasm and unbridled spirit of celebration and dance.
There was a moment – perhaps several moments – when my mind seemed to come
alive with my righteous purpose. I was meant to be a part of this wedding. I was bringing
joy into the lives of many people. I was helping to launch a successful marriage. I was, in
fact, creating memories for life. What an awesome responsibility and soulful pleasure
was given to me during this experience.
Today, I love what I do. I don’t take the photographs which will develop into frozen
memories. I’m not the caterer provides those delicacies with tastes that will fade into
oblivion. And I’m not the DJ who plays the songs exactly the way they were produced in
the studio. I’m the original soundtrack for two lives about to step out intothe world
together. My music and I are creating memories for life.
And nothing will ever make me happier.
P. S. I still secretly cry during some weddings, but always look down at the keys when I do.
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