Music & My Life

By Devin Balloqui-Smith

My dad once played bass and sang in a rock band. He and his friends would play music in the garage until all hours of the night. One night, I was allowed to be in the garage when they  played. I believe emotions allow certain memories to stick in your mind, more so than other memories. The joy I felt that day was enough to stick that memory to my brain like gum to the bottom of a desk. At one point, my dad handed me the microphone and I began to sing away. I was obsessed at this point in my life. I would watch videos of my dad’s concerts in New York City every week. I was always amazed at how vibrant and joyful he was when he played. At that time I had a CD player and only one CD. That CD was the band’s one and only album. I knew every song by heart and I can still remember the lyrics to this day. I wanted to be just like my dad. After singing a few songs I gave the microphone back and began playing the tambourine. Every second in that atmosphere felt like swimming in gold. I knew that I would spend the rest of my life using music to bring me to my happy place.

I started playing music seriously in the 4th-grade band at my school. I rushed into the house with excitement when I was first given my trombone. My dad and I looked up easy songs to play and came across “Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple. Once I learned it, I couldn’t stop. My teacher would always tease me for playing “Smoke on the Water.” Since I had learned to play it before he taught us how to play certain notes, I struggled playing high notes. The song consisted mostly of low notes and because I had played it so many times, I basically trained myself to only play low notes. I could always get a good laugh out of my band friends when I tried to play high notes in a lesson. Luckily, the high notes I struggled with were a very rare occurrence in songs we would play for concerts. After my lessons were over I’d walk to my grandma’s house with my trombone in hand. It’s weight always hurt my weak arms, but it was worth the joy that my lessons brought me each day. My grandma is the other person that inspires me to be a musician. Since I was a baby she would play music and sing to me. She has a beautiful voice and loves to sing for people. I didn’t know it yet, but I too would crave performing for others.

My first concert was quite the experience. The first song we performed was called Slip and Slide. This song emphasized the sound the trombone makes when moving the slide all the way down and back. For this song, my instructor decided to put all four of the trombone players in front of the entire band. I was shaking like a leaf, standing in front of so many people. Once the song started, my jitters faded away and I reached a level of joy I’d never felt before.

After two years, I quit the trombone. Although I loved it a lot at first, I slowly learned the feeling I once got from playing it had left. I started learning guitar and became obsessed. Getting my first guitar in the mail was a very special moment for me. The guitar is a butterscotch blonde fender telecaster that I named Blondie. She hangs on my wall to this day. I like to think of Blondie as the compass that guided me through this new musical path I’d chosen. My other guide was Josh. He is my best friend’s dad and a music instructor. When I was thirteen, Josh decided to start a camp where he teaches people how to play together in a band. I joined as a guitar player, but on the first day, there was a problem. There were two other guitar players who both had more experience than me. I instantly felt useless because, in my opinion, a band only needs two guitar players. After we all learned the song, we started playing it. When we finished, Josh suggested the song would sound better if someone got on the microphone and sang. I hesitated to volunteer at first, but when I saw no one was interested, I decided to take the opportunity. I wanted to have a role in the band that had a greater contribution to the overall sound, even though I never thought of myself as a good singer. That was my first time I’d ever tried singing with a band, and I found myself enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. From that point on I was the singer.

After a week of practicing, we had a concert. I was even more nervous this time. Although it was a smaller crowd than my last concert, singing felt more personal. I was putting my own unique style to each song I sang, which opened me up to more chances of criticism and rejection. Once on stage, the negative energy went away. I felt a heightened version of the same joy I had felt during my school band concerts. Although I could feel it was heightened, deep down I knew it wasn’t enough.

After the camp, the group continued meeting every Saturday. Two years passed, and I eventually had to quit because I got a weekend job. Now that I wasn’t singing anymore, I went through music withdrawal. I started playing guitar again, which helped, but it didn’t quite fill the void that formed once I stopped singing. I needed to sing in a band again, and soon. I began brainstorming the people I knew who played music. My best friend Jared played bass so that was a good place to start. When I brought the idea to him he told me he knew a guy named Schuyler, who played guitar and was in one of his classes. His response reminded me that I knew a guy named Tyler, who also played guitar and was in my film class. Luckily, both of them said yes. Lastly, we needed a drummer. I’d formed a strong bond with the drummer from my last band, Angus. It’d been some time since we last talked. I was nervous about sending the text asking him to join. He was the last piece of the puzzle, and I was so afraid of my dreams being crushed. Minutes later he replied saying he couldn’t wait for the first practice.

It seemed fitting to play in the garage. When everyone got to my house we started naming songs we knew until we landed on “Tighten Up” by the Black Keys. Once we started playing, it felt like magic. Singing again felt amazing, but it wasn’t perfect. When we were done playing I was already talking about our first concert. We came to the conclusion that before we played for anyone, we’d have to perfect six songs. The setlist had to consist of four covers and two original songs. This put me in charge of writing lyrics. I’d written songs on my guitar before, but nothing I felt good enough to perform for anyone. The first time I tried to sit down and write a song was a disaster. I sat there trying to think of something for fifteen minutes. The result was a blank page with a few doodles. I was completely stuck; I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. A few days later I was driving and a melody came into my head. Instantly words started flowing through my mind. Once I figured out a full verse I sang it on repeat until I got home. I bursted through the door and jotted it down onto a piece of paper. This was the start of the band's first original song. With a melody and a verse, I was able to finish the song before the next practice. On the day of the practice, I began singing the song to my bandmates. They began coming up with parts on their instruments. We walked away from that practice with a completed song. Two months later we had four covers and two original songs perfected. We were ready for a concert.

We called ourselves the Dirty Looks. Schuyler was the one who brought that name to the table. He said his dad always wanted to be in a band with that name, but never got the chance. It was the best name we could come up with, so it stuck. At this point, we’d told almost all our friends about it. Most of them thought it was cool, but didn’t have much of an interest. A small group of our friends were very excited about it though. They insisted on hearing us play. We decided that our first concert would be for our friends. I opened the garage doors and set up chairs in the driveway. Once our friends were all settled in, we started the show. We opened with the first original song we ever made. Half-way through the song, I knew this was the feeling. The moment I’ve been trying to capture ever since I was five, watching the videos of my dad having the time of his life. I finally had all the ingredients to the recipe for euphoria. My band consisted of my close friends that I cared about, we were playing a song that we created, and we had people to share it with. I was in love with the pure bliss the moment brought me. It broke my heart when I had to let it go.

That was our first and last concert. I kept pushing for the band to play in a public place, like my dad did, but no one liked that idea. I think it was the fear that we weren’t good enough that got the best of them. We lost our momentum after that. Weekly practices turned into monthly practices. By senior year, I was lucky if I could get everyone together once or twice the whole year. During the first semester of freshman year of college I went through another music withdrawal. I started planning a practice over winter break. I started talking to Schuyler again, and he told me he was moving to Virginia at the start of the spring semester. This motivated me even more because I wanted a good way to say goodbye. Although the band was on the downfall, I wasn’t ready to let go yet. I had to have a practice knowing it was the last one, so I could remember it forever. Playing the songs we wrote hit the hardest. I was brought back to when the band first started and my friendship with Schuyler was still blossoming. Saying goodbye to the band was hard, but saying goodbye to Schuyler was harder. The band had brought us so close together. Before he was a stranger, now he was a brother.

I hope I’ll get the opportunity to play in a band again. Hopefully, when I’m older I’ll have friends that I can play music with, just like my dad. Whether that happens or not, I will never cut music out of my life. Music is always there to help me solve my problems. If I’m upset, angry, or overwhelmed, music will calm me down. I owe a lot to music for making me the person I am today. Music brought me friendships, and it taught me many lessons. I learned at a young age that nothing comes easy. To reach your goals takes hard work and patience. Lastly, I learned how rewarding it feels to achieve your goals. When I finally got to perform a song I wrote with a band of my friends, I experienced one of the happiest moments of my life. I will continue chasing that feeling until the day I die.