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A Memoir by Judy Evicci
Many years ago, in Sacramento California, I sang with a small band. I remember Johnny, the band leader loved me very much. He was kind and fun and trusting and ambitious. He successfully marketed the band and the gigs were paid for. Not like it is today, where, most of the time, you perform for tips.
I was young, and like most young girls, many men offered love and marriage. I spent a lot of time with Johnny, but turned him down when it came to romance. I liked excitement that Johnny lacked. Instead he offered love and security.
Mostly we performed, but sometimes we practiced at his home or mine. We both had pianos and he played the stand-up base; the old fashioned kind that looked like a giant fiddle and stood almost as high as Johnny was tall.
We both had jobs, but after work, it was time to play and sing. Other band members came to practice too. Some just came to sit in and jam. The band was all acoustical. I don’t remember any electronic music in the 60s. Mellow and shaded jazz standard music tones filled the hours as they slipped by the moon and greeted the sunrise.
We lived the music. During our days off work, and the nights we spent together, we talked through or played new arrangements. I remember the tree house that Johnny built for my daughters in his spacious back yard. My young children played on high as we practiced music below.
I was in my twenties then. Where is Johnny now? I wish I had him back. This time I would say “yes,” to his proposal. I loved the music life, and I still do. Live music just not that easy to find anymore. Good musicians are scattered and even the Internet won’t disclose them. Come out; come out, where ever you are……