I've been looking for an appropriate forum to tell my story. It's meaningless unless it can help somebody. My sobriety date is 4/25/94 but I recently got thrown out of an AA meeting because the chairman with over 40 years and apparently worked for Hazelden (a pioneer in rehab facilities such as Serenity Lane) because I talked about my unsuccessful life in recovery. Sobriety does not equal recovery. But it does keep you alive.
So here is my story. I value this website and hope this doesn't get me banned.
I have some sort of mental illness (bipolar, depression, ptsd...who knows) which started in my teens. I played clarinet growing up and never listened to much rock until I turned 18 when I heard the 12-string strum in "Wish You Were Here." That's about the time I started drinking and smoking pot. Soon I became a blackout drinker and college drop out. When stoned I would drive my car for hours listening to early Pink Floyd and paid particular attention to Roger Waters' playing (even though he played with a pick!). I also developed a gambling problem (ala Jaco Pastorius). I tried to solve my problems by joining the Navy. I scored very high on the entrance exam but I was a space cadet with no insight into the military. I played clarinet in boot camp and was eligible to become a full time Navy musician but I turned it down. I went to "A" school in San Diego and bought my first bass, a Gibson EB0. One of my fellow recruits also ended up in the same school. He was a guitarist from New Jersey and shipped all his gear to San Diego. For two weeks or so we had big jam sessions on the base but then we had go to sea. We never played again. It wasn't until 1987 that I picked up the bass again, a Peavey 5 string. I also bought a keyboard and spent the next year jamming in my mobile home listening to mostly Pink Floyd. I almost joined an RandB band on keyboard, but otherwise didn't play with anyone.
Then in 1988 I had my first audition for a rock-type band. A coworker of mine told me her son was looking for a roommate. He was an alcoholic decorated Vietnam vet. I am a peacetime Navy vet who was discharged for some undisclosed mental illness. I think I played my bass for him and he was impressed. I moved in and also brought my keyboard. This gentlemen was very disturbed. I heard that he was in a hot band in the 60s in Massachusetts and was trying to put another band together 20 years later. But his drinking and bizarre behavior forced me to run. I saw that alcoholic violence growing up. Well, I ended up at my stepcousin's house joined an all original band in the boondocks of Western Massachusetts. I thought this band was cool but it was afraid of its own shadow. We never played out, so I quit after a few months. I resumed my journey into alcoholism and psychedelics. I went to my first Dead show in July 1988 in Maine and thought I found God! In '89 I played bass in acoustic jam bands, stoned and loving it. I made my living traveling throughout the country setting up paint departments in hardware stores. In 1990 I rejoined that original rock band that now featured a monster lead player who eventually developed a heroin addiction. He played a Steinberger and lived in New York. He suggested that I buy a Steinberger bass. I bought a 5-string bolt-on with a small body which led me to this website. The band didn't last long. The lead singer was violent alcoholic. I don't want to go into further detail but let's just say it was traumatic. The band broke up and several of us joined our brother band which was mostly a cover band, very good and gigging. I switched to keyboard when I joined that band and for the rest of 1990 we gigged every weekend. So you see, I never made much money playing bass, but it was probably my best instrument. I could improvise on it before I knew any theory.
In 1991 I took a job transfer to LA, then the gambling habit took over my life. The only bass playing I did was at Trancas in Malibu. A member of Steppenwolf MC'd the open mic and I followed Mick Fleetwood on stage. I didn't play with him. After his jam I played some jam and the MC threw us off the stage because the drummer was busting the head. I told my boss about my gambling and he arranged a transfer back to Massachusetts. I rejoined the band on keyboard but now my addiction switched back to substances. Because of my anger I quit my job and moved in with the bass player. Because of my drinking I ended up with his girlfriend. He saw this and almost wrote my epitaph. I moved back in with my father and joined another band. My father died and I ended up getting into the illicit drug trade with one of my bandmates. We were all addicts and most of them were dealers. Again, all these bands were on keyboards. In 1993 I ended up getting a job in a music store and finally getting a bass gig in a three-piece jazz fusion band. We never played out much but we were good. My ego inflated and so did my gambling. I quit again-not gambling, the band.
I decided to find fame in California. I was living in Vermont at the time, so I packed my SWR Red Head amp, Steinberger and a bag of clothes in my 1982 AMC Eagle. I had $800. I was a junkie. I was insane. I was dead. I had a spiritual experience (1/7/94). I stayed in Vermont and sought out a 12-step program for my gambling. I scratched a couple of tickets on January 12. I joined GA and ACOA. On 4/24/94 I visted one of my old jamming buddies in a cabin in the boondocks of western Massachusetts. We split some pot brownies and had some beers. I became paranoid and feared my friend would hurt me. I drove 40 miles in a blackout.
I blacked out for a day. Then I met a girl who was renting a room in the same house I was in. I told her my story. She called me a binge alcoholic and a drink could lead me back to gambling. Well, the drinking and drug use stopped. The gambling stopped for 8 years. But eventually gambling would destroy my life and hurt those around me. I never recovered. I ran. I chased. I resented. The insanity never abated. But it wasn't all bad.
When I got sober in 1994 I decided to quit music because of what I had done and seen during my 5+ years in the rock scene. I moved to Oregon in '95 and still brought my Steinberger. I ended up joining a few acoustic gigs with my unconventional bass. I didn't get the job I was chasing and had a nervous breakdown. I found a Veterans hospital in Portland Oregon and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, otherwise known as manic depression. After manically running around the country I ended up in Oregon again and applied for disability benefits. After some bizarre twists and turns I secured a high enough disability rating to get the VA to pay for college. Music was completely out of my life until the fall of 1998. While working at a video store I waited on a customer who turned out to be a drummer in a blues band. I talked about my bass playing and he invited me to join them. One day the guitar player (who is still playing at the very same bar) hired me to fill in for his regular bassist. This turned out to be a million dollar gig. He had a groupie with him at the gig who turned out to be a music therapist. The VA paid for my music degree (not therapy, composition). I discovered my high tenor voice which became my main instrument. I took a semester of string bass lessons but I wasn't comfortable with carrying that thing around. The voice is much more portable!
For the last twenty years I've hardly played bass at all. I played clarinet, 12-string guitar, alto sax, tenor sax, and sang. I even did some piano improv, mostly my stuff and other songs I knew and just improvised. But my gambling has ruined me. It's not the gambling, it's me. I am the problem. Maybe yours was alcohol or drugs or whatever. I don't understand what possessed me to legally steal and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to watch wheels spin on a machine. Drinking blacked me out. I didn't want to feel pain. I quit drinking so I could drive to casinos. Once the light of clarity was shown on my drinking and drug use, I stopped. But I thought it had something to do with music, so I quit. But my music has led to full disability from the VA and Social Security, medical care that cured my cancer 10 years ago, travel to Europe, and a variety of musical opportunities.
So why am I here on this website?
When I was in grad school in San Diego in 2002 I played alto sax in a Christian reggae band. The bass player bought my Steinberger for $400. It was beat up and had a lot of bad memories, so I just wanted to let it go. Now 17 years, thanks to this website I stumbled upon on some sleepless night earlier this month, I found my replacement. No, not a Steinberger. I found one in Poland on eBay but as I know all too well how risky purchases are on that site. So on talkbass I found a Graphite Guitar System Modulus prototype. I visited my old blues band from 20 years ago and talked to the current player about getting an instrument with a graphite fingerboard. No, it's the neck that's graphite. He had a Modulus, and the builder of my bass lives only two hours away from me. The guy who sold the bass to me had a similar background. He was 62 and just getting up there. I don't know whether I'll ever play in a band again. My behavior in groups has been unacceptable. I did buy an Eden Terra Nova 500W/210 system from one of the local music stores here in Oregon. I like the manager who also plays bass. He liked my GGS. I hope to visit the builder who still lives in Washington this week. The only music I'm doing right now is singing tenor in a church-related community choir. The rest of my musical bridges, like the rest of my relationships, are toast because of my addictions and behavior.
I'm 58 and in rough shape, but I am still alive. I am all alone. I hope all of you don't end up like I did. I am glad many of you stayed in music after you started your sobriety. And if you're still drinking and using, I hope you don't do what I and my old bandmates did. One of my drummers overdosed and died, my guitarist couldn't quit methadone and last I knew was losing his foot, that violent lead singer did get sober and had a family.
I lost my competency due to my gambling and was placed in a group home full of addicts. Fortunately I kept my room away from there, because I just exploded at this guy coughing his brains out from pot hits. I just can't do that stuff anymore, and now I'm away from gambling as of January 5. But it may be too late. I am alive, so maybe there's hope.
I wish you all the best.
Maybe I'll join you in the bass world again.
Barney
