The Eric Lindberg Story
If you're interested, here's a portion of the story. I was born in Taunton, Massachusetts on March, 31 1972. My parent's, Steve and Linda are still together and I have three brothers, one named Nathan who is a little younger than me, one named Ben and another named Hung. Hung? Yeah, I know, just introducing himself is both a great boast and occasionally effective pickup line. Anyway, Hung and Ben are a bit older than me but they arrived fully formed when I was about 11.
Before I can remember, my parents moved to rural Vermont and then to Rural New Hampshire and every successive move has been to more rural Vermont. They like the trees and the solitude. I like the trees and solitude too.
Anyway, most of my youth was spent in a small known as Orford, New Hampshire. It was and is a lovely town with a population hovering around a thousand souls, a few churches, a stoplight(that they added after I left), a couple of general stores/video rental/deli's and precisely ZERO musicians. That is until Nate and I came along...
I started singing too early to remember and I started my first guitar lessons in school when I was 12. I had to. It was a group class and I had to do it if I was to stay in music. I really wanted to play the piano but...
I was better at the guitar plus I soon found myself the singer in a band(a short-lived outfit kown as Darius II)and the conversations around the lunch table usually centered around Eddie Van Halen being better than Steve Vai(Tom's contention and one that I found LAUGHABLE), and how all rock and roll that didn't feature unbelievably fast guitar sucked. Yup! Zeppelin? Sucked. The Beatles? Sucked. Yeah, I've grown quite a bit since then but I still Loves me some fast guitar.
Shortly thereafter, I made weekly pilgrimages to the nearest town with a music store(30 miles) to buy any and every fast guitar CD that there was. Malmsteen, Macalpine, Howe, Moore all of the Neo-classical, metal guitar that a young man could want. This pattern persisted for a couple of years, I would buy new tapes(yes, TAPES), listen once or twice, put them down, practice, dance around to Def Leppard and fancy myself a guitar player UNTIL...
Sometime in 1987 I read a quote from Steve Vai(one of my heroes) that Joe Satriani was the shit(he phrased it more eloquently, in fact, I think I remember the quote but you get the idea...Joe's the shit). I needed no further endorsement so on my next sojourn to West Lebanon, New Hampshire, I purchased Joe's "Surfing with the Alien".
Much like Beck's Blow by Blow did for an earlier generation, "Surfing" changed EVERYTHING for me. Not only was this hot shit guitar playing, it was MUSIC. Beautiful, fun, exciting, optimistic, introspective music. This album made all the sense in the world to me.
After that, I had a path. I hung posters of Joe up in the music room of my school and learned bits and pieces of the "Surfing" album. Around this same time, I began REAL guitar lessons at my mother's insistence. I remember telling her that I didn't need LESSONS, I needed to learn more music THEORY. She disagreed and signed me up anyway. I quickly learned that she couldn't have been more right and I couldn't have been more... well, you know, the alternative. Under the tutelage of Wally Wysk, I learned(at my behest) a mishmash of metal, jazz, classical, fusion, scales, arpeggios, philosophy and any other approach or technique that crossed my mind. I worshipped Wally.
Well, after high school came music school. One year there taught me that I didn't want to write Choral music and that it wasn't always WHAT you played but HOW you played it. I wasn't the best player there but I thought somehow that I was the COCKIEST player and therefore, yeah, maybe I was the best. In truth, I didn't take full advantage of the opportunities afforded me there and the school didn't exactly bend over backwards to accommodate me(not that they should have)and so, I left.
The next five or so years were spent playing in little bands, teaching guitar(alongside Wally) and developing a strong relationship with another Mentor, Steve Warshaw.
In short, Steve taught me the blues. Taught me not only by being one of the best players I've heard before or since but by playing me records, cd's and just by generally being a generous and sophisticated man. After a year or two under Steve's wing, I decided to leave New England for greener pastures...
I picked Austin, Texas. Why? Pretty much because it was different, far away and I thought that any town that could nurture Eric Johnson would get me too(more than a decade later, that logic seems a little less than stellar. I like the town, though). Now I'm back in Vermont(something about the rivers). Yeah, that just happened in late 2007 but before leaving Texas, I had the opportunity to tour as a guitarist/vocalist/music director for Buddy Miles. Yup! Mark Donovan, Mike Kindred, Rob Jewett and yours truly stomped all over the west coast with a legend and one of the true greats. Buddy has since left us but I'll always remember the smile, the wiggle and the laugh that was Buddy Miles(at least to me).
I am also married to an amazing woman, Emily and I am also very blessed to have a charming and intelligent stepson, Michael and an amazing half Lab, half Pug, Beatrice. In addition, now that I am back in the land of my birth(more or less), I have the privilege of spending time with my heroes(mom and dad)my brother Hung, my brother Nate and thankfully after a few too many days out of touch, my Brother Ben (Real glad that we're back, bro).
This is, of course, in no way a complete history. That would be a long story fraught with successes and failures that perhaps only I find interesting. If you'd like, sign up for the newsletter, I'll keep you posted on what's happening now and if that's not enough, drop me a line at crazyuncleeric at gmail.com I'd love to chat with you.
Take care and whatever it is, don't forget to practice it.
Eric
