Russ DiBella - From the Inside: A Backdrop to the Music of My Life

From The Inside

A Backdrop to the Music of My Life

Russ DiBella

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2011 Russ DiBella. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/22/2020

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1519-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1517-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-1518-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011903225

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Cover and interior photos taken by the author except for page 203 which was originally taken by Dan Hopper (www.danhoppermedia.com)

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Table of Contents

To Kelley, Alea and Kelsey for the patience

To Dad and Mom for the music

To my bandmates for the journey

All my life Ive looked at words

as though I were seeing them for the first time

Ernest Hemingway

Without music, life would be a mistake

Friedrich Nietzsche

When words leave off, music begins

Heinrich Heine

F or as long as I can remember Ive had creative leanings; an innate and seemingly boundless drive to make something from nothing. Whether practical or artistic, physical or conceptual; the process was always as enjoyable as the result. And when I discovered a heightened sense of gratification from one interest more than all others, I became somewhat of an enthusiast.

It was an early attraction to words that found me exploring the worlds of poetry, prose and lyrics to varying degrees throughout my life; metaphorically taking me on some very rewarding personal, educational and artistic journeys. And though my penchant for creating has proven both varied and long-lasting, its been my relationship with words that has remained the constant.

In a simultaneous extension of my lyrical pursuits an active discovery of music of drumming in particular broadened my horizons and provided a new and equally gratifying outlet for me. Performance became the physical manifestation of my writing when I assumed the role of lyricist in Upper Level a band formed with some long-time friends and fellow musicians. This was one of the most enjoyable musical periods for me as writing, drumming and singing as well as collaborating on the music and arrangements satisfied my creative needs in every way. Writing and playing would become almost indistinguishable; complementing and feeding off one another as that particular aspect of my life began to take shape.

As music continued to be my diversion of choice (though it seems as if it had actually chosen me ), I soon merged that with a secondary focus on preserving all music-related items and ephemera. An assortment of music magazines, concert tickets and occasional tour programs would serve not only as the inception of a slightly more developed adaptation of this sideline interest but also as a personal perspective on my experiences from the past three decades; each ticket in particular a small record of when and where I was at different intervals on the long and winding musical road.

In time throughout varying stages of interest I had amassed a relatively unassuming but personally significant collection of memorabilia with a focus on drumsticks from numerous concerts and pre-shows. And when I decided to chronicle these events and all peripherally-related activities, it was in part this collection that would offer inspiration for and provide verification of much that had occurred.

For the next few years I became immersed in this very specific place from my past and present; testing the accuracy of memory, the limits of fatigue and my ability to piece together what essentially amounts to my story so far.

Part I:
A PASSION REVEALED

Turn the pages

See the faces that weve known

All the memories held within are not our own

Shared among the ones whove long since come and gone

Time rolls on

A MATTER OF TIME / 2005

O NE
Discovery

Age is a matter of feeling, not of years

George William Curtis

F orty came surprisingly early to me, at least insofar as how good I felt both physically and mentally. Not that I necessarily knew what it should feel like nor did I believe I was any less mature than a man my age should be my penchant for Sunday comics and animated sitcoms notwithstanding. Ive always been dedicated to my responsibilities as husband, father and professional and maintain an otherwise plausibly adult attitude toward life in general. But with respect to music, my interest in the ancillary aspects of the artists has remained as fervent as when I first dropped a needle on an album back in middle school.

Early on in those teenage years a fair amount of discretionary time was available to indulge and easily become immersed in newly revealed interests. What was once uninhibited childhood curiosity about all things new (because all things were new) soon became teenage inquisitiveness; more mature and somewhat more focused. Moments of self-defining exploration and discovery began to take shape and, in some cases, take hold. And when one of those interests gripped me compellingly I became engaged to the extent that even a cursory glance would have elicited a reasonable assumption of endurance; perhaps even of lifelong measure.

And just as I found my passion so, too, did a number of friends realize their own. Although some have maintained to varying degrees the intensity felt in those early days, a few even having uncovered new and lasting diversions along the way, many others seem to have all too easily relinquished their initial enthusiasm as though mere infatuation. Regardless of category, interests that once seemed as concentrated as mine were casually dismissed by most as they made their way into adulthood.

But that was obviously not the case with me; my interest in learning about music actually having increased and broadened over the years as my curiosity about the details continued and eventually led to other more interactive pursuits. Age may have crept up on me but it was clearly not a factor in my love of all things music. And with regard to all that would follow it would appear as though I had yet to graduate from those hallowed halls of youth. Yet here I am chronologically and seemingly suddenly more than three times older.

As Sherwin B. Nuland states in The Art of Aging: A Doctors Prescription for Well-Being: So gradual a progression is the onset of our aging that we one day find it to be fully upon us.

As a supplement to this realization its my belief that growing older does not necessarily mean growing up. Though we ultimately have no choice about the former (if were fortunate), we can still be respected and contributing members of society while suspending the latter within reason, of course.

I recall a moment from my mid-twenties as I was scanning the pages of Rolling Stone magazine at a local convenience store. A former high school acquaintance I hadnt seen since graduation walked in and quickly recognized me. Seeing the magazine in my hands and knowing my musical background he shook his head scornfully while asking in a derisory tone, You still read those things? Though I knew his question was essentially rhetorical, the pause in his step seemed to indicate an anticipated reply. But I felt no obligation to dignify his words with response, taking far more pleasure in my silent rebuff.