It was around 1976 when it all started. One evening in Northeast Philadelphia, a young boy sat on the floor in front of the TV with his family. Little did this impressionable young lad know that this night would ignite a spark that would forever alter his destiny. (Spooky Emphasis Added) For on the TV that night, he witnessed something which resonated deep within his fragile eggshell mind. Something magical, something inspiring… something …containing… an inordinate amount of Funk.

It was an awards show. The Grammy’s or AMA’s. It’s too far back to remember. There is only the memory of that performance. A band was playing, fronted by a sweaty man dancing a mile a minute. The music had an immediate effect on the young boy’s psyche. Strange sensations took control. Physical convulsions soon followed. The child lost control of his neck. His face began swinging left, then to the right, then up and down. There was no turning it off! Leaping up from his seated position, the child began circling his fists in an imaginary circle in front of his body. He was guided only by instinct, responding to a subliminal, almost primal, command. (Later research would reveal this spastic motion had a name: “The Cabbage Patch”. Others affected by this spontaneous motor response reported similar manifestations titled “The Bus Stop” “The Scorpion” and “The Running Man”. The movements were different but the end result the same, all reported parts of their anatomy collectively referred to as their “Groove Thing” to have been shaken quite expeditiously)

The intensity of the sensation brought about by this musical phenomenon took hold of the boy and failed to release him from a vice-like grip. It was too late for the child, the “music bug” had bitten him. The ensuing fever would begin to take hold. Later, the young boy would learn this intensity had a name: “Soul”. In addition, the man from whom it was emanating had a nickname, “The Godfather of Soul”. That man was none other than James Brown.

There was another man standing behind the Godfather who also intrigued the boy. A member of the band, he wore a purple tux, platform shoes, ruffled shirt and had a 20” afro. While the man’s fashion sense was commendable, it was the instrument he played that caught the child’s eye. “It kinda looked like a guitar”, the boy thought but not like the one Jimi Hendrix held on the giant wall poster in his brother’s room. No, this was different. It just plain ‘ol looked COOL! The boy was inexplicably drawn to it. It had a larger body and a longer neck with large, fat strings like a piano. It seemed more manly than a plain guitar. It gave off a deep booming sound that drove the songs and made everything , for lack of a better term, “groove”. Needing to know the name of this mystical scepter of aural enlightenment, he impatiently turned to his family watching the show from the living room. He fervently inquired “What is that thing the guy in back is playing”. After a tortuous moment of silence, his older brother retorted, “It’s a bass”.

The years progressed in what could be called a “normal” manner for this six year old since his indoctrination into this strange, wondrous world of music. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, played sports, did well in school and behaved like a seemingly healthy, well-adjusted child. But underneath, something was stirring. A beast had been awakened. It was hungry for more. Craving more of that “intensity” he felt when Mr. Brown played that fateful night. But where would this young “addict” get his “fix”?

Fortunately, the boy had many older siblings who left large piles of records lying around the house. He would sift through the collections and sample what each had to offer. He’d route through his parent’s selections from Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, purloin his sister’s vinyl containing artists like John Denver, Peter Frampton, Chicago, and Le Chic. He’d plunder his brother’s treasure trove containing albums from David Bowie, Jackson Browne, Parliament, Steve Miller and Yes. There was an entire musical world out there to be discovered and this boy was out to discover it all. Although his knowledge of musical styles and genres increased, it wasn’t enough to satiate the hunger gnawing in the young boy’s soul. He needed more. But what? It was around the age of 12 when he found out.

It was during that time that the boy managed to leverage his meager resources to obtain his first stereo system from a teenager in the neighborhood. Through shrewd negotiations and uncanny business savvy, the determined young lad was able to trade a few vintage comic books for an aging Pioneer system complete with 4” speakers, turntable AND 8-track player!! Oh, these were glorious times. Each afternoon after school, the young boy would schedule time and listen with amorous longing to the local Rock and Roll radio station he discovered which showcased some of his favorite acts. It was during one of these sessions he heard the band that would “show him the light”. (Heavenly sounds – emphasis added)

The song came on the air. He wasn’t familiar with it but from the opening bar it rocked! It was fast, it was heavy, it had a cool melody but it wasn’t until after the 2nd chorus that it hit him like a sledgehammer to the cerebellum. Instead of going into a guitar solo, there was a low fast rumble with snapping accents and riffs. He recognized that sound. It was the Mystical Scepter of Aural Enlightenment! It was the bass! It was a bass solo and it sounded frikkin’ awesome. Who could be playing this music? Was it the man in the purple tuxedo? No, it couldn’t be. This was a different but equally cool style. (Later research would reveal the man behind this bass solo was a Canadian named Geddy Lee. His band was named “Rush”. The song which captured the boy’s imagination was titled “Freewill”. One of many powerful songs from this trio from the Great White North that would further resonate in the soul of the young, musically obsessed subject of our narrative)

That was it. The boy had come full circle. The fever brought on by the music that first struck him in ’76 had now just come back with a vengeance. It wasn’t enough to just listen to the music, “I can do this”, the boy thought to himself. “I MUST do this”, he quickly affirmed. “That’s it, I have to play the bass”, the boy proclaimed. “I have found my calling”. (Emphasis added – dramatic sounds)
The rest as they say, is a fuzzy haze of: buy first bass, practice, debauchery, long hair, experimentation, vomiting, moral bankruptcy, mullets, practice, chain-wallets, smoky burn-outs in the parking lot of a Dairy Queen, practice, transcendental debauchery, and more practice (A.K.A – History).

As the dust cloud cleared, the now teenage tragic hero of our parable emerged from his training in the mystical musical arts to attain a level of skill with which he may actually challenge the “Masters of the Universe” and take over the world!!! (Emphasis added – Sinister laugh)

(In other words – good enough to begin auditioning for bands )

It was during this time as a musical journeyman the young man was able to meet great friends and advocates who shared his visions of Rock and Roll excess. A chance encounter in the parking lot following a concert proved serendipitous. Small paper flyers littered the parking lot. “Original Band seeking Bassist” was the short version of the correspondence. Our young lad was pleased to contact this group, audition and eventually become accepted as their newest member.

It was from this meeting in 1989 our young lad was able to meet a talented Keyboardist, Singer, Songwriter named Paul. Although the band was short lived, the two were able to establish a musical bond and friendship which continues to this present day. Paul proved to be the mentor and collaborator that would help our young hero develop his earliest skills in songwriting and musicianship.

Then, while attending Temple University in 1993, the subject of our story was able to cross paths with another great sage in his musical quest: a talented guitarist named Mike.

When not cheating off his test papers in class, our hero would share his primitive musical creations with Mike who would in turn lend his guitar wizardry to elevate early recordings to new levels of Rock and Rock decadence. The effect was like spitting a mouthful of Bourbon into a campfire – fun and flashy! Also enduring to this day, this musical collaboration proved invaluable in helping develop our hero’s pursuit of his own album. An album which would serve a testament to his life’s calling – Music.

With the help of Paul, Mike, and a shitload of determination, the culmination of traveling the musical landscape was achieved by our hero in 2009. A long anticipated album of original musical creations was released. Titled “The Long Road”, the young boy from our story has grown, travelling far & wide since that fateful night in ’76 to develop into a musician and songwriter seeking to honor the musical giants who walked before him. Those greats who filled his life with meaning, joy, and endless wonder.

That’s boy’s name is Robert.

Robertigo is his story…