Friday, March 7, 2014

A Letter From The Editor

This week I said "goodbye" to one of my biggest musical influences. I contribute a lot of my passion for music towards the impact my dad had on me. Without him, I would not have had the motivation to start Bishop And Rook. And without music, I would not have been able to connect with him on such a deep and meaningful level. I am a music lover, a record collector, and a fan who went beyond the Top 40. Just like my dad.


Thank you for coming to an event for a man who was your friend. A man who was your family member. Or a man who you may not have known that well.

To be completely honest with you, I don’t think that I knew everything about my dad. I’m sure he had some amazing, untold stories and a few pieces of valuable information to share.

But my dad was the type of person who lived, communicated and interacted according to his interests. Unless you shared a common curiosity, well, you didn’t get to know him all that much. But when you did discover a mutual bond…that bond became the keystone of your relationship.

Our keystone was music.

From an early age, I was captivated by the enthusiasm and sheer knowledge my dad - displayed for music. It was not uncommon to find me sitting next to him, watching documentaries on VHS or learning how many bands were, quote, before their time.

My dad wasn’t a musician. He had a guitar that I eventually commandeered in high school, but neither of us knew how to play it.

My dad was a music lover, a record collector, a fan who went beyond the Top 40, and I wanted to learn how to be one too.

I would alphabetize his record collection to make it easier for us to find Alice Cooper.

In his best Buddy Holly voice, he would serenade me with the assurance that “Love like yours will surely come my way.” And that I was just as “pretty pretty pretty” as Peggy Sue.

We would ramble through the tongue-twisting chorus to Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me.”

And whenever necessary, which was always, we would analyze the precise way to execute Pete Townshend’s windmill guitar stroke.

At the age of a ten, my favorite band was The Who, one of my favorite movies was Eddie And The Cruisers featuring the music of John Cafferty & The Beaver Brown Band and overall, had entirely too much knowledge of nineteen seventies Brit rock.

My dad had this one story that he would love to tell. Whether it was true or not did not matter. The point of the story was the way in which he would tell it.

He was a young man, at an outdoor music festival in Boston and he had secured a spot near the front. Jimmy Page had just walked out on stage and my dad threw his arm up in the air, punched the sky and yelled … “Do it Jimmy!” And Jimmy Page looked down at him, smiled, and began to play.

Despite all the inconsistencies in my dad’s life, this story served as a reliable and dependable intermission, being told the same way, with starstruck emotion, as if the event had happened moments ago, every time it was told.

As a direct result of my dad’s influence, I have established myself as a respected independent reporter for the Boston music scene. A freelance journalist possessing the same passion and excitement to inform, educate and promote the art of music.

While I’m experiencing the vibratious community of like-minded audiophiles, as my dad has done before me, I’m sure he is proud of the impact he had on me. And I’m sure he’s happy, wherever he is, listening to "Baba O’Riley" on repeat.

I am a music lover, a record collector, and a fan who went beyond the Top 40. Just like my dad.


  1. Beautiful post! Sorry for your loss, lady. :(

  2. Your dad sounds like an amazing guy. Sending lots of internet love to you and your family.

  3. What a sweet tribute. The gift of music.


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