So you want to be a professional musician

So you want to be a professional musician

So, you, want to be a professional musician

So, You Want to Be A

Professional Musician

By

 

 

Kenn Gordon

I dedicate this to all those who have made things work for me over the past 45 years.

 

I further dedicate this to me Mother and Father who encouraged me to be the best that I could be, in everything that I did in life.

 

I dedicate it to my wife’s and all my sons

(No! I only had one at a time, wife’s that is)

It’s tough being a Musicians partner or dependent

 

Finally, to you who have bought me

Books, Music and Guitars

 

Books by Kenn Gordon

Altered Perceptions

Return of Seven

Dead End

Covid-19 The Alternative Ending

A History of The House/Clan Gordon

So, You Want to Be a Professional Musician.

The Original Poster Boy History of Chaplin’s Films

Fine dining at home on a budget

9/11 The Firefighters Remembered (Audio-Book)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

IN THE BEGINNING

Where would you like me to start? The beginning or perhaps it even happened before then. Perhaps it happens, right back in the genetics, you know? Like were your parents or grandparent’s musical in any way?

Nope I don't really believe that, although there is no doubt that it helps to come from a family that has a musical background. I think my grandfather on my dad’s side made Violins and my grandmother again on the paternal side of things was musical. She played the Organ in Saint Andrews Roman Catholic Cathedral in Glasgow. I guess that would have helped, however I never really knew them so that is a dead end, so to speak. My maternal side did not really offer much from those grandparents, that’s not a bad thing, as I would end up with another string to my bow, sort of thing. The good news though was that having been born in 1955, meant that the better part of my formative years was through the 1960’s. They say that if you can remember the 1960’s you were not there!

I remember and as the great Max Boyce once said “I was there”. The time of Free Love! I was too young to get much in the way of that during the 60’s. I had to wait until the 1970’s for that (but we will get to that in a later chapter.)

So, let’s go back to the beginning and I mean that day, back in march 1955. I was born (yippee), to my mother (that was the normal way back then. It being a long time before test tube babies and an Aldous Huxley’s, Brave New World. Whilst he forecast a time of dystopian world where kids were born in Test Tubes (or even Petri Dishes)) It probably would have been easier had I been given the musical traits by genetics, rather than having to learn the old-fashioned way. So, having been created via a much tried and natural method, in the summer of 1954, I had to wait until spring of 1955. It was the good time when Scotland, was in a happy time, they had rebuilt most its cities, some 10 years after the end of World War II.

So back to my conception as I said this was done in the summer of 1954, which strangely enough was the end of general rationing in the UK. That though did not mean that there were a lot of food, or luxury goods around. There were things happening that my father would have been more interested in than I would ever be. Things like Cricket, (for our American cousins this is not the insect that I am talking about).

BORN FREE

 

So, the period surrounding my conception. It would be a safe bet to work backwards from my birth approximately 9 months. So, let’s take us to the end of June 1954. What were the events leading up to and possible contributory factors surrounding that little magical spark that caused my existence? Try asking your 90-year-old parent. ‘Dad do you remember what you were doing when I was conceived 64 years ago,’ Right so I must hypothesise and look at the events happening in Scotland, in the one week period that fits the conceptual time period. UK Chart number one was Doris Day with Secret Love. Now that would have been a grind on the dance floor and a cracking end of night song. It would have been a nice slow smooch number. So, that could have been one of the defining moments of my life. Apart from that I cannot find anything of great and cultural interest to anyone living in the UK. We had crap weather that year, rain and cold.

The Americans were having an equally bad year but for a diametrically opposed weather pattern. They had a drought and high temperatures. Looking at this there was nothing really to say that I was born musical.

This was a good year for the Clyde Shipyards they had just finished a couple of big ship The SS Nevasa and The RMS Arcadia. These two ships would have a bearing upon my life later on.

So back to my parents and my young life as it had come about. My father at the juncture was working as a Fireman at the time. My mother was a Nurse. Dad was born into a Roman Catholic family and of Irish descent. Mum was a Protestant and Scottish descent. But both were naturalised Scots. Not that any of that really has much of a bearing upon my musical ability. Well not at this point in my life that would come later.

So, there I was in March of 1955, behaving pretty much as all my peers would be doing at the age of 0 – 18 months. Doing pretty much nothing but eating, sleeping and shitting, then repeating this all on a perpetual loop.

I was as normal as most infants can be, which is to say I was probably a nightmare for my parents. As you can gather I don't remember much of the first couple of years of my life, so some will be supposition and some will be because of that my siblings have since educated me on.

These were the Rock and Roll post war years. Now now I was the number three sibling. Fortunately, I had an older brother or I would no doubt have been dressed in pinks. So, at this stage of my post embryonic life, I would have been listening to the vacuum cleaner and now my mother had not managed to get a twin tub (What do you mean, you don't know what a twin tub is???) So, she washed with the washing machine and used a Mangle to wring out most of the water, before putting it into the spin dryer. All this she did while listening to ‘The Archers’ yep they really have been going that long! ‘Listen with mother’ (that would be for my older siblings for me the vacuum still sounded cool, especially compared to ‘The Archers’)

There were other shows like the BBC World Service and The Shipping Forecast. All of the above were interspaced with ‘Light Programs’. Some music but Rock and Roll was still frowned upon by the BBC and we were still awaiting the advent of ‘Pirate Radio Stations’ and real music.

So, let’s move on by a couple of years and I do mean just a couple of years. I had stopped dribbling and was now potty trained and able to walk and finally escape from those things, they called reins. The first two years I should point out were spent between being pushed around in a luxurious Silver Cross Perambulator or for the heathens amongst you a Pram. Not a buggy but a coach built thing with big wheels and sprung suspension. Complete with a hurricane proof hood and cover. This had been used for my previous two siblings and would see a lot more service before it became a ‘Hurley’ (more on that later).

So, for my life between the age of 2 and 4. My parents must have invested in a better radio (back then it was a piece of highly polished furniture.) as we were occasionally able to pick up Radio Luxembourg. So, some real music was starting to attach itself to my consciousness and even some dribbled itself into my sub consciousness. It sure as hell beat Mantovani and his Orchestra.

By now, I had also learned that you could draw on walls and real wax crayons, did not wash off the wall, nor could it ever be painted over. Back then budding would be Banksy’s were permanent. So, the advent of woodchip paper would be used to cover over my artistic creations. Every child knows you can peal wallpaper back in strips. I guess that must have done my parents head in at the time.

Now that there was real music, starting to reach my ears. I was in my own subconscious becoming tuned in to the sound of the ‘Guitar’. This per many Preachers, Priests and even some Politicians, not forgetting the directors of the BBC, was an instrument of the very devil incarnate, which would turn all who listened to it into the spawn of Satan himself.

Now I also had a baby brother and another sibling being developed in that most human of Petri Dishes, my mother’s poor forlorn womb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SCHOOL

Back on the 1950’s life was not being not exactly simple. Around that time, a good dose of double pneumonia, tried to take me out, even before my music had a chance to...