"Neal and the Pearl" (Janis Joplin) -a duel of two power rockers...
"The painting above is of Neal Middleton (front man and leader of the band), his beautiful wife, Linzie, and their amazing one-year-old son, Reiley. Although this is not exactly a "band painting," I included it because I believe that much of Neal's inspiration derives from his love for Linzie and Reiley and theirs for him.With love, all things are possible--without it, life itself is an obstacle, along with deal-makin', label-shakin', stalemate-breakin', risk-takin', peacemakin', intoxicatin', musicmakin', forni-oops, and a dozen other '....katin's.
Without love to fill them with hope and persistence, "Royal Bliss" may long ago have raised a white flag, surrendered to naysayers and devils, folded their cards, punted a few inches short of making ten yards--so thank God for angels and folks who pray, have a little faith. At least, that's what I say!"
Royal Bliss" may be a classic example of the power of love. All we need is love..Love sweet love. Look closely at this painting and you will see the love this family has for one another other. It emanates from the painting. See it? "Yeah......, yeah......, yeah......., whoo..ooh yeah"--(Neal, if you're reading this, stop and sing that line--cool!). Oh, yeah!....it's all about love, the love Neal has for Linzie and Reiley--and the love he has for his extended family: his brothers in "Bliss." Love ya.
The digital art piece above is one I did of Neal, who, a dozen years ago, was a reticent, soft-spoken, bright-eyed, high-school student in my English class. And now, he sings with more feeling than any singer and has more stage charisma than I've ever heard, well, except for Janis Joplin. It's close though--and actually it's apples and oranges, because Janis was an alto who could reach to high soprano and Neal, well, Neal's more of a deep baritone with a set of vocal cords that can stretch a mile in both directions and bend notes like pretzels. There's no doubt about it. Neal could easily pass for a male reincarnation of Janis Joplin, and I get goose bumps when, in my imagination, I picture them dueling it out (in Janis' case, with a fifth of Southern Comfort in one hand to keep her voice lubricated), singing "I was drunk and I was loud! I was invincible and I was proud..." It's too bad Janis is gone, but the lyrics of "I Was Drunk" would have required a slight revision, however: "Ten thousand beers in twenty-seven years," the point at which both ends of her blazing candle flickered out. How unfortunate. A duet with Neal and Janis would have blown the world away, sold 50 million copies. That would have been something. Some things weren't meant to be.
Digression over. Back to high school: I have long believed that the greatest accolade a teacher can ever achieve is to have had the privilege of teaching students who eventually surpassed the teacher in his field of expertise. Isn't that what teaching is all about? Neal never got into the zen of diagramming an English sentence, at least not as well as I, myself, can still diagram a sentence--with or without zen. In a far more important and significantly more influential display of personal talent, however, that of composing meaningful, concise, rhythmic, powerful, and memorable lyrics--and the music to give those lyrics life, Neal surpassed the teacher, blew right on by--and that is more than just cool. And my tribute is not lightly given since I have written poetry, lyrics, and music for at least fifty of my sixty-one years, in addition to having taught creative writing for 27 years. And throughout that time, although I have always been a cheerleader to my students and an advocate of pursuing their talent, I have also been objective in the advice I dispensed to students who may have aspired to become lyricists and composers.
I am proud to have played a small (very small) role in Neal's transformation from the student I first met when he was fifteen: a shy, perpetually-smiling, sophomore with sparkling, happy eyes, who now has evolved into a song writer--no, a composer of superlative renown, a silver-voiced entertainer, a rock-n-roller, exuding enough stage charisma to cause the females in his audiences to swoon and the males to chant in unison, "Royal Bliss, Royal Bliss" for minutes on end. And so the teacher now has the privilege of partaking from the cup of wisdom handed him by the student. You see, life is a cycle that always comes 'round, because cycles are circles and circles have no beginning and, therefore, no end. And so, I thank Neal for remembering me as kindly as he has done, but mostly, I praise him for the wisdom he'll pass on to others as the cycle of life continues its perpetual rotation.
Side note: If you're into transcendental meditation, check out my blog entry (below this blog entry) called "Genesis." It's heavy if you want it to be heavy and light if you want it to be light. Actually, the commentary that accompanies the painting is a satire poking gentle humor toward those who have heard me elaborate on the symbolism within the digital art piece I call "Genesis" (the most elaborate painting I have ever done) and recommended that I compose a commentary explaining the symbols embedded throughout the painting, and so, in satirical fashion, the commentary contains both truths and exaggerations. In other words, feel free to choose the portions of the commentary with which you may concur and equally free to reject the rest.
This is a recent painting I did of Taylor Richards, a.k.a., "Doc Tay," the lead guitarist for "Royal Bliss" and a musician of incredible range and skill. I did not teach Taylor to play guitar, nor do I know who his teacher was, but the teacher should be commended, because in Taylor's case, I'm certain that Taylor is yet another example of the student having successfully surpassed the teacher in artistry and talent. Not only is Taylor an amazing musician, he's a pretty awesome dude, kind-hearted , gentle by nature, the sort of person whom one would immediately wish to befriend upon meeting, a person who attracts no enemies, has no time for that. Life is too short. Rock on "Doc Tay." You rule!
I call this one "Doc Tay-Graffiti Style." It portrays "Doc Tay" doing what he does best, rockin' out with his Gibson Les Paul...
"The Faces of Doc Tay"
This is a "re-do" of a painting I gave to the band's rhythm guitarist, Chris Harding, whom I have affectionately dubbed "Slow-hand Harding" after one of my favorite guitarists "Slow-hand Clapton." Chris is an incredible guitarist whose power chords and strumming give the band much of its intensity and sheer energy, which is kind of amazing (perhaps ironic), because, on stage, Chris exudes a sense of serenity. He works hard but makes it look effortless as only skilled musicians can do. I'm thinking he must be kind of like a duck on a pond, moving gracefully across the water, without ruffling a feather, but paddling like hell beneath the surface, because the sounds from Chris' guitar exude an energy that has to be coming from somewhere inside, an invisible force, like electricity, flowing right out through his fingertips, into his guitar and out through the speakers.
If you see Chris, tell him that I have re-done my painting of him in a way that I think he will like more than the original version. I hope soon to "swap" paintings with Chris if he'll permit me to do so.
The above painting began as an experiment. It is of Tommy, the band's bassist. I wanted the painting to have a psychedelic flavor (that's a hippie word) where color and abstraction, not concrete images, dominated the canvas (since Tommy is a kind of hippie--not a real hippie, mind you, just a kind of hippie, because to be a real hippie, you had to be around in the 60's and that was considerably before Tommy's time). Had he been born 30 years earlier, however, he would have fit in like a glove on a hand, a roach on a clip. He would have been the hippest of the hippies, 'cause nobody has dreads like Tommy, except Bob Marley, of course.
Although the painting achieved the color dominance I was looking for, unfortunately, Tommy lost a bit of recognizibility in the process (sorry Tommy). I like the way the painting turned out, however, and if you use your imagination, you may still see Tommy inside the abstraction--And if you do, you'll see a musician who has truly mastered his instrument. I actually get the feeling, when I watch Tommy play, that his upright bass has somehow become an extension of his body, a third arm or a second heart.
What I like best about Tommy, however, is the manner in which he gets into it, feels it, moves it, grooves it, especially his fingers and hands, which dance around the neck of his bass in a way that is mesmerizing to observe. I actually think that a deaf person who locked his eyes onto the musical sign language emanating from Tommy's hands would be rocking to the silent beat, saying, "Far out." Tommy is like a hippie after my own heart, reminding old farts (old hippie farts) like me of the amazing decade of the 60's and early 70's when peace and love were the mantras of an entire generation, who may not always have had its act together but who still managed to re-define American culture in ways that resulted in change for the better. Your dreads are far out, Tommy. Peace, brother.... Did you really major in anthropology? I can dig it.
"The painting above is of Neal Middleton (front man and leader of the band), his beautiful wife, Linzie, and their amazing one-year-old son, Reiley. Although this is not exactly a "band painting," I included it because I believe that much of Neal's inspiration derives from his love for Linzie and Reiley and theirs for him.With love, all things are possible--without it, life itself is an obstacle, along with deal-makin', label-shakin', stalemate-breakin', risk-takin', peacemakin', intoxicatin', musicmakin', forni-oops, and a dozen other '....katin's.
Without love to fill them with hope and persistence, "Royal Bliss" may long ago have raised a white flag, surrendered to naysayers and devils, folded their cards, punted a few inches short of making ten yards--so thank God for angels and folks who pray, have a little faith. At least, that's what I say!"
Royal Bliss" may be a classic example of the power of love. All we need is love..Love sweet love. Look closely at this painting and you will see the love this family has for one another other. It emanates from the painting. See it? "Yeah......, yeah......, yeah......., whoo..ooh yeah"--(Neal, if you're reading this, stop and sing that line--cool!). Oh, yeah!....it's all about love, the love Neal has for Linzie and Reiley--and the love he has for his extended family: his brothers in "Bliss." Love ya.
The digital art piece above is one I did of Neal, who, a dozen years ago, was a reticent, soft-spoken, bright-eyed, high-school student in my English class. And now, he sings with more feeling than any singer and has more stage charisma than I've ever heard, well, except for Janis Joplin. It's close though--and actually it's apples and oranges, because Janis was an alto who could reach to high soprano and Neal, well, Neal's more of a deep baritone with a set of vocal cords that can stretch a mile in both directions and bend notes like pretzels. There's no doubt about it. Neal could easily pass for a male reincarnation of Janis Joplin, and I get goose bumps when, in my imagination, I picture them dueling it out (in Janis' case, with a fifth of Southern Comfort in one hand to keep her voice lubricated), singing "I was drunk and I was loud! I was invincible and I was proud..." It's too bad Janis is gone, but the lyrics of "I Was Drunk" would have required a slight revision, however: "Ten thousand beers in twenty-seven years," the point at which both ends of her blazing candle flickered out. How unfortunate. A duet with Neal and Janis would have blown the world away, sold 50 million copies. That would have been something. Some things weren't meant to be.
Digression over. Back to high school: I have long believed that the greatest accolade a teacher can ever achieve is to have had the privilege of teaching students who eventually surpassed the teacher in his field of expertise. Isn't that what teaching is all about? Neal never got into the zen of diagramming an English sentence, at least not as well as I, myself, can still diagram a sentence--with or without zen. In a far more important and significantly more influential display of personal talent, however, that of composing meaningful, concise, rhythmic, powerful, and memorable lyrics--and the music to give those lyrics life, Neal surpassed the teacher, blew right on by--and that is more than just cool. And my tribute is not lightly given since I have written poetry, lyrics, and music for at least fifty of my sixty-one years, in addition to having taught creative writing for 27 years. And throughout that time, although I have always been a cheerleader to my students and an advocate of pursuing their talent, I have also been objective in the advice I dispensed to students who may have aspired to become lyricists and composers.
I am proud to have played a small (very small) role in Neal's transformation from the student I first met when he was fifteen: a shy, perpetually-smiling, sophomore with sparkling, happy eyes, who now has evolved into a song writer--no, a composer of superlative renown, a silver-voiced entertainer, a rock-n-roller, exuding enough stage charisma to cause the females in his audiences to swoon and the males to chant in unison, "Royal Bliss, Royal Bliss" for minutes on end. And so the teacher now has the privilege of partaking from the cup of wisdom handed him by the student. You see, life is a cycle that always comes 'round, because cycles are circles and circles have no beginning and, therefore, no end. And so, I thank Neal for remembering me as kindly as he has done, but mostly, I praise him for the wisdom he'll pass on to others as the cycle of life continues its perpetual rotation.
Side note: If you're into transcendental meditation, check out my blog entry (below this blog entry) called "Genesis." It's heavy if you want it to be heavy and light if you want it to be light. Actually, the commentary that accompanies the painting is a satire poking gentle humor toward those who have heard me elaborate on the symbolism within the digital art piece I call "Genesis" (the most elaborate painting I have ever done) and recommended that I compose a commentary explaining the symbols embedded throughout the painting, and so, in satirical fashion, the commentary contains both truths and exaggerations. In other words, feel free to choose the portions of the commentary with which you may concur and equally free to reject the rest.
This is a recent painting I did of Taylor Richards, a.k.a., "Doc Tay," the lead guitarist for "Royal Bliss" and a musician of incredible range and skill. I did not teach Taylor to play guitar, nor do I know who his teacher was, but the teacher should be commended, because in Taylor's case, I'm certain that Taylor is yet another example of the student having successfully surpassed the teacher in artistry and talent. Not only is Taylor an amazing musician, he's a pretty awesome dude, kind-hearted , gentle by nature, the sort of person whom one would immediately wish to befriend upon meeting, a person who attracts no enemies, has no time for that. Life is too short. Rock on "Doc Tay." You rule!
I call this one "Doc Tay-Graffiti Style." It portrays "Doc Tay" doing what he does best, rockin' out with his Gibson Les Paul...
"The Faces of Doc Tay"
This is a "re-do" of a painting I gave to the band's rhythm guitarist, Chris Harding, whom I have affectionately dubbed "Slow-hand Harding" after one of my favorite guitarists "Slow-hand Clapton." Chris is an incredible guitarist whose power chords and strumming give the band much of its intensity and sheer energy, which is kind of amazing (perhaps ironic), because, on stage, Chris exudes a sense of serenity. He works hard but makes it look effortless as only skilled musicians can do. I'm thinking he must be kind of like a duck on a pond, moving gracefully across the water, without ruffling a feather, but paddling like hell beneath the surface, because the sounds from Chris' guitar exude an energy that has to be coming from somewhere inside, an invisible force, like electricity, flowing right out through his fingertips, into his guitar and out through the speakers.
If you see Chris, tell him that I have re-done my painting of him in a way that I think he will like more than the original version. I hope soon to "swap" paintings with Chris if he'll permit me to do so.
The above painting began as an experiment. It is of Tommy, the band's bassist. I wanted the painting to have a psychedelic flavor (that's a hippie word) where color and abstraction, not concrete images, dominated the canvas (since Tommy is a kind of hippie--not a real hippie, mind you, just a kind of hippie, because to be a real hippie, you had to be around in the 60's and that was considerably before Tommy's time). Had he been born 30 years earlier, however, he would have fit in like a glove on a hand, a roach on a clip. He would have been the hippest of the hippies, 'cause nobody has dreads like Tommy, except Bob Marley, of course.
Although the painting achieved the color dominance I was looking for, unfortunately, Tommy lost a bit of recognizibility in the process (sorry Tommy). I like the way the painting turned out, however, and if you use your imagination, you may still see Tommy inside the abstraction--And if you do, you'll see a musician who has truly mastered his instrument. I actually get the feeling, when I watch Tommy play, that his upright bass has somehow become an extension of his body, a third arm or a second heart.
What I like best about Tommy, however, is the manner in which he gets into it, feels it, moves it, grooves it, especially his fingers and hands, which dance around the neck of his bass in a way that is mesmerizing to observe. I actually think that a deaf person who locked his eyes onto the musical sign language emanating from Tommy's hands would be rocking to the silent beat, saying, "Far out." Tommy is like a hippie after my own heart, reminding old farts (old hippie farts) like me of the amazing decade of the 60's and early 70's when peace and love were the mantras of an entire generation, who may not always have had its act together but who still managed to re-define American culture in ways that resulted in change for the better. Your dreads are far out, Tommy. Peace, brother.... Did you really major in anthropology? I can dig it.
"The Tommy Gun" --Bass Player Extraordinaire! The painting does not do justice to Tommy's "dreads," which are amazing. Sorry, Tommy. I'm working on how to paint more realistic-looking dreads.
The two paintings above feature Jake, the drummer for "Royal Bliss." I call the second one (directly above), "Heart of the Band," because that's what a drummer is, and the first one I call "Jake and Fans," because I included an abundance of (female) fans in the painting.
Jake is a formidable drummer, who has achieved a level of perfection that few drummers reach. Good rock & roll drummers are conductors, their drumsticks doubling as batons. They set the pace, keep the band together, make it tight, a skill that goes far beyond merely keeping the beat. Yes, Jake's the heart of "Royal Bliss," without which the rest of the band could display no soul--He takes the band on a journey and brings it home. He's a conduit for his mates, orchestrating the band's emotion. He knows when to soften it and when to kick it. Rock and Roll has always been all about rhythm. As the great Huey Lewis put it "the heart of rock and roll is the beat." I truly believe the drummer makes or breaks a band. In Jake's case, he makes it.
Side note: Until I bought a drum set to "play" with, nothing more, I never appreciated how hard drummers work. There's a reason why the drummer in a band tends to be the most physically fit member of the band. He has to be. If you don't believe me, try pounding on a set of drums for five minutes, let alone a non-stop, one-hour set. Unless you're a marathon runner with forearms like Popeye's--you'll find yourself exhausted. I have the deepest respect for good drummers--and drummers don't get any better than Jake.
The two paintings above feature Jake, the drummer for "Royal Bliss." I call the second one (directly above), "Heart of the Band," because that's what a drummer is, and the first one I call "Jake and Fans," because I included an abundance of (female) fans in the painting.
Jake is a formidable drummer, who has achieved a level of perfection that few drummers reach. Good rock & roll drummers are conductors, their drumsticks doubling as batons. They set the pace, keep the band together, make it tight, a skill that goes far beyond merely keeping the beat. Yes, Jake's the heart of "Royal Bliss," without which the rest of the band could display no soul--He takes the band on a journey and brings it home. He's a conduit for his mates, orchestrating the band's emotion. He knows when to soften it and when to kick it. Rock and Roll has always been all about rhythm. As the great Huey Lewis put it "the heart of rock and roll is the beat." I truly believe the drummer makes or breaks a band. In Jake's case, he makes it.
Side note: Until I bought a drum set to "play" with, nothing more, I never appreciated how hard drummers work. There's a reason why the drummer in a band tends to be the most physically fit member of the band. He has to be. If you don't believe me, try pounding on a set of drums for five minutes, let alone a non-stop, one-hour set. Unless you're a marathon runner with forearms like Popeye's--you'll find yourself exhausted. I have the deepest respect for good drummers--and drummers don't get any better than Jake.
I call this mousterpiece "The Machine Gun Tommy Gang"
This final painting is of "Royal Bliss" in concert. It's a painting of five men who began their journey as boys and not only became men along the way but also became gifted musicians, who learned many life lessons while chasing the dream. And at least part of the bond they share has to do with the fact that whatever they endured along the way, whatever land-mines they stumbled onto, whatever boulders knocked them down as they climbed the mountain they set out to conquer, they endured, overcame, fought on, etc. and when that happens, you learn a lot about each other. Bonds are formed that can not be severed.
Together and individually, they fell down a thousand times but got back up, never gave up, kept looking up (I sound like Mohammad Ali, who floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee), each helping the other, brothers in spirit, comrades of the same heart. As you study the painting, permit yourself to contemplate the challenges they overcame--I think you will see glimpses of who they really are, how strong they have become, how loyal they remain to one another. They aren't just five guys in a rock-n-roll band. They are "Royal Bliss"! Rock on "Royal Bliss." Keep inspiring those of us who need a fix of inspiration. That's what music is all about. You are the music men. I've never met anyone quite like you...
Final note: If you know "Royal Bliss," please leave a comment. I'd like to hear of your own experiences with the band and/or its members. If you don't know "Royal Bliss," discover them: http://www.royalbliss.com/. Then, come back and tell me how blown away you were if you are a serious fan of rock & roll.
...Wes Mathis ("Teach")
This final painting is of "Royal Bliss" in concert. It's a painting of five men who began their journey as boys and not only became men along the way but also became gifted musicians, who learned many life lessons while chasing the dream. And at least part of the bond they share has to do with the fact that whatever they endured along the way, whatever land-mines they stumbled onto, whatever boulders knocked them down as they climbed the mountain they set out to conquer, they endured, overcame, fought on, etc. and when that happens, you learn a lot about each other. Bonds are formed that can not be severed.
Together and individually, they fell down a thousand times but got back up, never gave up, kept looking up (I sound like Mohammad Ali, who floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee), each helping the other, brothers in spirit, comrades of the same heart. As you study the painting, permit yourself to contemplate the challenges they overcame--I think you will see glimpses of who they really are, how strong they have become, how loyal they remain to one another. They aren't just five guys in a rock-n-roll band. They are "Royal Bliss"! Rock on "Royal Bliss." Keep inspiring those of us who need a fix of inspiration. That's what music is all about. You are the music men. I've never met anyone quite like you...
Final note: If you know "Royal Bliss," please leave a comment. I'd like to hear of your own experiences with the band and/or its members. If you don't know "Royal Bliss," discover them: http://www.royalbliss.com/. Then, come back and tell me how blown away you were if you are a serious fan of rock & roll.
...Wes Mathis ("Teach")
The Boys of Bliss Gang! Back row, left to right: Neal, Taylor (Doc Tay), Chris. Front row: Vick, Jake, an unidentified female, and Tommy (Tommy Gun). I told them the other day: If the rock and roll thing doesn't work out, they could always join the Hell's Angels. I love that Panhead! Can't see it, but I'm sure it has the suicide clutch. I like my ride though: An '02 Heritage Springer, definitely a nostalgic bike, ape-hangers and all (in the first or second to oldes blog entry, there's a picture of it. Sweet!
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