If I have ever had a hero it is Pat Metheny. In Kansas City’s tight musical circles of the 1970s, Pat was a legend with many imitators. As a KC guitarist ten years his junior, I briefly sought to follow his road to the sun before my shallow reservoir of talent dropped me politely but hastily at the first exit.
1979 was a critical year for music. Disco was a dying behemoth, and the heavy, testosterone-laden sounds of Motorhead, Rush, and REO Speedwagon dominated the (then relevant) FM airwaves, my soundtrack to 3.2% beer-fueled nights driving Camaros and being chased by the various, brown-shirted police forces of Johnson County, Kansas.
For me, however, the most sublime and inspiring musical joys were to be found in the now virtually forgotten sub-genre of jazz fusion. Buffalo’s own Spyro Gyra, Georgia’s Dixie Dregs (whose album “Free Fall” inspired the eponymist band of my youth), and the ponderous Mahavishnu Orchestra rang from my heartland, suburban bedroom.
My clarion, musical call wa…
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