My Guitar Heroes Growing Up

Guitar Heroes Growing up in Michigan, music wasn’t just something in the background—it was the background of my life. My parents used to laugh and say that no matter where we went—a diner, a bowling alley, or some little ice cream parlor—I’d make a beeline straight for the jukebox. There was just something about it. The glow, the buttons, the mystery of what song might come next. That was my playground.

I didn’t wait long to start building a music collection, either—if you could call it that at first. My earliest “collection” came courtesy of my sister’s bedroom. I’d sneak in and swipe her records like a musical bandit. Albums from The Beatles, New York Dolls, Elton John, and Queen became the foundation of everything I loved. Those records didn’t just spin—they spoke to me.

Radio was my constant companion, too. I’d go to bed with a transistor radio pressed up against my ear, listening deep into the night until I drifted off. That’s where the seeds of my guitar heroes really started to grow.

It all began with The Beatles—specifically John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and George Harrison. Watching them, listening to them, I didn’t just hear songs—I heard possibility. I wanted that sound, that feel. I wanted a Rickenbacker so bad because that’s what John and George played. Back in those early Hamburg and Cavern Club days, they were grinding it out with whatever they could get their hands on—Höfners, Futuramas—but eventually stepped into those iconic guitars that shaped rock history. George Harrison, especially, had this effortless way of crafting licks that just stuck with you. Nothing flashy, just perfect.

Then came Brian May from Queen. Now that was a whole different universe. His tone was unlike anything else—rich, layered, almost orchestral. And the fact that he used a sixpence coin instead of a penny? That just blew my mind. It wasn’t just about playing guitar—it was about inventing your own voice.

Of course, you can’t grow up loving rock without crossing paths with Joe Perry of Aerosmith. I’ll be honest—part of it was the swagger. The way he looked on stage, the attitude, the feel. I had his poster up on my bedroom wall, probably worn at the corners from staring at it too much. But it went deeper than that. His sound—often cutting tracks with Stratocasters even though he was known for Gibsons—had that raw, bluesy edge that made songs like “Walk This Way” unforgettable.

And yeah, I got to meet him a few times. The best moment? Backstage at Comerica Park when Kiss and Aerosmith were co-headlining. There I was, talking blues influences with Joe Perry, when all four members of Kiss rolled by in golf carts. Joe just looked at me and said, “You don’t see that every frickin day, do ya?” That’s a moment you don’t forget.

And then there’s Joe Walsh. From the James Gang to his solo work to elevating the Eagles, he brought personality into every note. The guy even ran for president—how can you not love that?

These days, guitar heroes are everywhere. But for me, it’s a little closer to home now. Guys like Erik Blundell and Jack Riot—my bandmates in Chit!, my friends. They’ve got the chops, the passion, and that same spark I heard coming out of jukeboxes all those years ago. Look for us live in concert soon.

Funny how it all comes full circle.