confessions of a pre-teen Yanni

So why my violent reaction at the mention of Yanni? Beyond the obvious (and the fact that my parents own the Yanni Live at the Acropolis video) I can never escape that fact that as a young musician growing up in Toledo, OH (no, I don't know Katie) I endeavored to write the soothing, numbing strains that flowed from Yanni's brain, through his manly mane and into our hearts. Ok, to my credit I was 13 and really didn't know any better. But my record doesn't really improve. In addition, I sought the guidance of other keyboard-centric "adult contemporary" artists: such as John Tesh and Howard Jones (after his "commericial" phase - yeah, the underground stuff, I was hardcore). Then there was my love affair with Vince Dicola, especially his fine work on that staple of Cold War triumphalist subtlety Rocky IV.

We all have to come from somewhere. And though I wear my shame on my sleeve I also have a soft spot for music from that era and of that ilk (see any issue of Keyboard magazine ca.1986-1989). It doesn't make it any easier to know that many composers I know and respect were really pushing the edge even during those impressionable years. Though I can't say I'm unhappy where I'm at musically now, I just can't stop imagining what my music would be like were it not for the likes of axel eff-ing Harold Faltermeyer.

I'm not taking responsibility for this but the coincidence is staggering.