Garage Band

With the exception of the assassination of President Kennedy in November, life went on for most of us pretty much as usual during the waning months of 1963. I entered the seventh grade at St. Francis School in Metuchen, and hung out with my friends in the C.Y.O. facility across the street after school. Two or three nights a week after my homework was done I would drag my guitar and amp to Kyle’s house for a lesson. It went slowly at first, and Kyle would mercilessly bust my balls, telling me how much I stunk. I found myself practicing a lot at home, determined to get good enough so that Kyle would keep me around when he formed his band. It was a tough go from the start, with the strings biting into my fingertips until callouses formed. I felt completely incapable of getting my spastic fingers to go where I wanted them to go. But by the time the New Year rolled around I’d improved a lot, and was even beginning to enjoy the practice sessions at Kyle’s house (Kyle had taken to calling our sessions “practice” rather than lessons by this point). To my great surprise I found I could also sing, although at first it was mostly back-up harmonies to Kyle’s lead vocals. There was never any question that it was Kyle who was destined to be the star. But when we played and sang together it sounded pretty good, and before too long it started to feel like fun to me. More importantly, when Kyle spoke about forming the band, it sounded more and more to me like he was planning to include me. I remember thinking that maybe my Dad and Mr. Watson hadn’t been all that crazy after all. But I still recalled the snickering behind their backs and the thought of actually performing in front of people caused my stomach to knot. On Sunday evening, February 9th, 1964 I was sitting on the stairs practicing barre chords while my family watched television when the phone rang just before eight o’clock. My mom called my name from the kitchen and announced that it was Kyle on the phone for me. “Hello?” “Chris, are you going to watch Ed Sullivan tonight?” Close to sixty million Americans tuned in to Ed Sullivan’s variety entertainment program on CBS every Sunday night in the mid-sixties. I peeked into the family room and saw that the television knob was on Channel 2. “Yeah, my folks have it on,” I replied. “Good. Call me back when it’s over.” He hung up abruptly. I got back into the family room just I time to see Ed Sullivan make his famous stiffly contorted introduction: “Now, tonight we’ll be entertained twice by four nice young lads from Liverpool, once now and then again later in the show. And so without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen – The Beatles!” Amidst a deafening roar of screams and cheers, Paul counted it down and the boys from Liverpool launched into All My Loving. And the music hit me hard and all at once, overwhelming me. The walking bass line, the staccato guitar rhythm, the pounding drums and beautiful soaring vocal harmonies. I felt like I was not just listening to but experiencing music for the first time. The picture on the screen alternated between shots of The Beatles smiling and shaking their heads so that their long hair moved as they sang, and shots of young girls screeching and crying and pulling their own hair in the audience. I’d never seen such a raw and powerfully emotional reaction to an entertainment act before. And The Beatles were playing directly to their audience, smiling into the cameras, shaking their bodies and guitars while howling “Whooooo!” It looked like they were purposely inciting the hysteria. My brother and sister and I watched the performance of the first three songs in a state of enthrallment that bordered on catatonia. I felt like my pupils had dilated and my vision and sense of hearing were enhanced. I remember being vaguely aware that my father was repulsed by what he was seeing. “Are these supposed to be boys or girls?” he asked with disgust. “That hair, high heels –where are their purses?” he ranted. “Sullivan must be hard up to find good acts if he’s choosing to put this on his show.” Little did he know what an impact that act would have on several generations of ardent fans. I remained transfixed until the program broke for commercials. I knew I was supposed to call Kyle back, but I had no idea what I’d say to him. Like millions of other young Americans I’d just experienced a musical, almost spiritual, awakening but I could find no words to convey the feelings that had overcome me. It felt like everything that had happened to me previously was just a prelude to this moment. I couldn’t wait for their second performance. The wait felt like hours while jugglers, and acrobats and comedians filled up the intervening time between Beatle spots. Finally, the boys came back and finished with two hard rocking numbers – I Saw Her Standing There and I Want To Hold Your Hand. And the reaction was possibly even stronger than before, both for the studio audience and for those of us watching at home. The feeling was all at once raw, emotional, joyous and confusing. It was clear that it would take a little time to process. One thing I did know though was that my life had just changed forever. Now I knew what I wanted to do. And for the first time the thought occurred to me that I might want to be more than just a back-up musician in the Kyle McGrath Band.