A few boys from the 1960s played together. The excuse was to make music, but it was comrades in arms that brought us the reward.
We were not good musicians. We had a mishmash of equipment, held together with wire and tape. We gathered in living rooms and dens, running extension chords blowing out fuses.
And like a football team, or a cadet company, or a fraternity, we bonded even for a short period of time.
We gave ourselves a name, like a gang, but instead of creating a menace, we had cards printed up in several colors to announce to the world we were “swinging teens”.
Why do young men get together on weekends to annoy the neighborhood with this loud noise? The main reason was to impress girls who are attracted to guys who acted or sounded similar to rock stars of the time.
Later in life, I realize there was much more than that. This crew mixed from different lifestyles, high schools, backgrounds, and abilities were the perfect mix for lads having fun together.
We did not judge, we did not argue, we only laughed and joined together in the celebration of music that defined them.
Joel went on to have two kids, teach and live happily in Bon Air. Paul moved to Carolina and passed away recently. Cliff retires and has a live recording of this group. Alex has moved on and has lost touch. Steve lives in Yorktown and is a skipper of a yacht.
“Thursday Night” may never play again, but for a brief space in time, these guys were so good together.
Let the music play on.