Dee and the Tone Deaf Band

Yes, at age 12 Santa got me a cheap guitar with nylon strings and I put together a band with two girlfriends.

I thought if they knew the tune I could sing harmony and play the guitar, I knew C, D, E, Em, G and that’s about it.

Next thing I know, we’re on deck for a concert. OK, I’d played the guitar a couple of months, self-taught. The concert was a disaster and we broke up afterwards.

We sang “500 Miles,” “Day is Done” and “Teach Your Children.” I apologize profusely to the authors and singers of the original works, but I was 12.

Now I’ve had six months of lessons and a very nice folk guitar but my fingers are shredded from lack of air and humidity.

I can say I’ll never take private guitar lessons from a drummer again. Most of these teachers look to rich parents in the area to make their kids a great singer or pianist.

And if I’m ever dumb enough 40 years later to get a band together, no-one who is tone-deaf will have a part in it. We were singing to one tune (the drummer professor) and I gravitated to harmony and he went with me. This is on a well-known song. Then he looked at me and said, “I get it, you have perfect pitch.” All I could say is “That’s what my music teachers have told me.”

End of lessons. Sad, I know. When I’m lower than 6.400 feet above sea level and stay out of dishwater without gloves, I may be able to learn again. Right now my right thumb and forefinger are bleeding.

Thanks to my mentors, my dad, PDX and my husband for keeping music in my head and heart. PDX I’m stale, way more than day-old but willing to learn. Cheers, Dee