Thang Nguyen 555

Electric guitar inventor Les Paul died.

I can hear “my sweet guitar gently weeps” by Eric Clapton and George Harrison at the Bangladesh concert.

Or visualize Pete Townshend jumping up high, swinging his arm and concluding the set by banging his Les Paul.

Six strings, a lever to prolong the sound-effect it, all solid wood.

And one, and two. The Band is together, following one drummer’s beats.

If the world government can collaborate like a R & R band, we wouldn’t be in such a mess.

(words are out that Cash4clunkers in France and Germany seems to be working).

I tinkered a little bit with the six strings, and managed to play some electric guitar.

I miss my drummer Son, my rhythm guitarist Hung, and base guitar Hung also.

Our junior high years went by too too fast (we didn’t even have to cut school: Tet 68 in the city did that for us).

There was no sound proof in the music room. Nor was there A/C. We sweated before and naturally after each practice.

Then we came out for some more sweat on the volley ball court, or ping-pong tables.

Our energy came in abundant supply.

And the “am-pli” (amplifier) was loud enough to match the drum set’s.

Junior high band, in blue & white uniform. “Don’t let me down”, “California Dreaming”.

Before I know it, I ended up living in California for 18 years. Talking about ” be careful what you wished for”.

George Harrison dared to question “what is life?” but he also tries to keep things in perspective in “here comes the sun”.

But he left us with “my sweet guitar gently weeps”, which pretty much sums up the love and legacy for the electric guitar, the instrument which made him and many of his generation (including Jimmy Hendrix) legends and fabs.

You see, my big brother started me on that path with his French song “Guitare d’amour” and pirate copies of the Hit Parade . We could hardly decipher the notes. But we enjoyed the hair and band camaraderie.

The 7 notes kept me occupied, out of trouble, and provided a healthy outlet to spend my abundant energy.

Without my realizing it, those seven notes have been sailing right behind, despite my many troubled waters.

Winter, spring, summer or fall. Do you know, where you’re going to? Guitare d’amour! One of my pleasures this year has been locating my neighbor, who night after night, would practice his guitar on the roof under a bright moon.

He still plays night after night at NetViet in Saigon. For two hours his 3-man band would serenade soft rock and Vietnamese romance all, “seal with a kiss”.  To him, it’s always gonna be “green field.” And the best thing is, he added my favorite song to his repertoire after we met again, 37 years apart. Can’t wait to hear it again: “reflections of my life”. Pete Townshend broke that guitar on the Woodstock stage, but surprisingly, the music lives on. Still reverberating, bouncing back and forth, 40 yrs around the world. You can always tell if someone loves music, or is capable of carrying a tune. Even when you take away their stereo, MP3 or Les Paul guitar. You see, music is pre-built in the genes, and cheered on by “band on the run”. You got to let go, to dream, to be a slave to the 7 masters as a price of admission. Woodstock was much more than any of today’s social networking sites. I hope that generation will leave behind a cleaner site this time.

Glad to find out the guy wrapped in the blanket still stays married. Sorry to see the hair, now long gone.