Glen Goins

I'm going to be a front man one day. 

That's just the fact of the matter.  It's a bold statement from someone who can hardly sing but it's what's going to happen.  I can't stand not being on a stage, and thus far in 2011 I've been on far too few.  I've been far more productive and proactive, musically and in other regards,  since the beginning of winter.  I've gotten a great deal of fulfillment out of recording and working on new material for various projects and the idea of performing it makes my salivate.  

In my primary project I share vocal duties with two other accomplished front men who've together been in more bands than I'm aware of.  I've never had any experience being a lead vocalist and I'm very insecure when it comes to my vocal ability.  The number of takes required for me to put down a vocal track in the studio at least triples theirs.  None the less I feel a very strong sense of value and that I bring something to the team that otherwise would go unfulfilled.  

A lot of people have been curious as to why I've made some of the decisions I've made and decided to work with who I have.  Among more minor reasons, I've been afforded the opportunity to study under one of the best front men this town has ever seen and I'm very lucky and thankful to be in such a position.  Along with one of the best funk bassists and band directors around and not to mention the total amount of experience accumulated between the 6 band members equaling 30+ years.  There's an amount of contribution that I haven't felt was asked of me in older projects.  This is the most comfortable I've felt musically probably in my short performing career.  

I'm gaining my voice.  Both literally and figuratively.  I'm finding pockets that I'm comfortable in realizing where my strong points are.  I'm practicing all the time.  One of the luxuries of living alone in a big house is that I can sing at the top of my lungs and not have to be concerned with room mates or neighbors.   

I've modeled my vocal style after the late great Glen Goins, herald to the Mothership, of Parliament/Funkadelic (and later Quazar) who can be seen at the end of the following clip singing down the Mothership in Houston, hands up palms open to the sky as if saying 'this gift is not of me but comes from he whom all good things flow'.  This was before I was born.  When most of the great music was already made.  

Church

I don't kid myself into thinking that I can ever even emulate such an amazing talent, but I can damn sure try to imitate.  If one doesn't aim high then what's the point of trying?  

Glen Goins died too soon, as too many of the great ones have, but that only allows us to appreciate fully what gifts he had to give in his short time.