A Conversation with Mike Mainieri

Yes, absolutely. There aren't that many of us vibraphonists out there, and I embrace all these cats, and have my entire life. There just aren't many of us.

That leads to one of my standard questions: In 2015, why aren't there more players? Why doesn't the instrument have greater visibility? I hear there are a lot of people playing vibes in Europe, and I've encountered a number of younger students here in the States, but I think we can agree that the instrument wallows in relative obscurity compared to other instruments.

Yes. There are several factors in this. One, when people think of jazz as an art form, they're thinking about the trumpet, and piano, bass and drums. Or trombone. When it comes to an instrument like the vibraphone, which is a much more exotic instrument, people aren't even aware that it exists. Also, it's an expensive investment for a parent. "Oh, you want to play the guitar? Let's go down to Sam Ash and spend a hundred bucks." For many, many years, the instrument that was a staple of the home was the piano. Even if you were poor, there was some kind of crappy piano sitting around somebody's apartment. That was a given. When I was a kid, everybody was taking piano lessons, rich or poor. Not everybody, but a lot of kids. There was a piano everywhere. You didn't have to schlep a piano, until guys started playing electric keyboards. For many years, up until the late 80's, when the airlines changed their policies, I was taking all my gear on the road. Not just my vibes. I had a Deagan for many years, with pickups and everything. It had hard cases, man. And I took all my synthesizers and the band's synthesizers. No overweight charges! Now, I'm playing with bass players that don't even take their instrument on the road with them. They're renting instruments! We'll do a whole tour where we rent acoustic basses wherever we go. The airlines have made it really expensive to bring gear these days. The other factor about the vibraphone is that the marimba is more popular, as far as I can see.

You think the marimba is more popular?

Yes, in high schools and colleges.

There's all the classical literature that exists for marimba, and not much for vibraphone.

Absolutely. There's so much music written for classical marimba. I wouldn't be surprised if I looked in the NY Times and saw that someone's was going to be performing a marimba concert (in town) this week. It's an instrument that people can play solo. But how many cats can really play a solo vibraphone concert? How many people would really be interested in sitting for an hour and a half listening to solo vibraphone?

Do you attribute that to the sonic limitations of the vibraphone, or to the musical limitations of players of the vibraphone? Does the nature of the vibraphone's sound make it hard for people to sit and listen to it alone for an extended period of time?

You touched upon both elements. Sonically, listening to a three octave instrument... is daunting. That's why I had a three-and-a-half octave vibraphone built. When I play duet concerts with Bobo Stenson, or if I'm playing a solo concert, or with a quiet, acoustic group where I have a chance to play a couple solo pieces, the three-and-one-half octave instrument really works beautifully. I love having that low "C" down there. It allows the instrument to breathe, you know? I can hit those bass notes. That's part of the challenge that come with playing the instrument. After thirty or forty minutes, some people are ready to head for the exit.

Have you ever done a whole solo vibes recording project? Kind of like what Gary did with that record "Alone At Last?"

Yes, I'm working on one now, because I've had so many vibraphonists say to me, "You've got to do a solo vibes album before you leave this planet..." which is perhaps soon, because of my age! I'm going to at least play a lot of the standards and ballads that I've learned and performed over the years. Guys will just push me out there when the audience asks for an encore and they say, "Play a solo piece." It's become more prevalent as I've gotten older.

That's great. When you do record a solo vibes project, how meticulously will your arrangements be worked out? There's the worked-out, arranged approach, and then there's the free, see-what-happens approach.

Well, there are some pieces I've played enough where I think, "This is really cool, and I can use this as a piece that I've constructed." I'm not going to put out a CD... you know, forget that. It will probably be a video, or maybe just a download from my website. What I'd like to do is take any standard and approach it in one way, and then I'll offer five or six different approaches to the same tune. Any really good four-mallet player can do the same thing, but at least I'll be documenting some of the various playing concepts that I've developed. "You can do this, or you can do this... you can approach it this way, or you can approach it that way."

And you'll do all this within the context of one arrangement of the tune?

I will offer some free samples, and then others you'll have to buy. "You can download these other versions for (a small fee)." The camera will be behind me, so the viewer can look at my voicings and say, "Oh, that's interesting." Or not... "That sucks!"

Do you use much dampening in your solo vibraphone approach, Mike?

You know, sometimes. I use some dampening. It depends on the piece. I'm not a dampening fanatic. I dig hearing some phrases blend into the next phrase. Milt did not use the dampening device as nearly as much as it's employed these days. Just a matter of taste. I love to play free, like I did during the concert I just performed in Hamburg with Bobo Stenson... a duet. I played with Joe Lovano at Birdland several months ago. It was called "Coltrane Revisited." Just a quartet, and I was the only chordal instrument. Joe, me, Lonnie Plaxico and Steve Smith.

I'm sorry I missed that, but I did catch you at Birdland with the Steps Ahead reunion recently.

With Joe, we were playing pretty free throughout the whole set. We played a couple standards that Coltrane recorded. We even did "Body and Soul" one of the nights.

Did you play the Coltrane changes?

I'm not sure if they're Coltrane's or McCoy (Tyner)'s. It moves into those "Giant Steps" changes in the bridge... genius. But I like the idea of playing outside the tonality. I always did. When I was playing with Jeremy Steig we'd play free a lot. Actually, too much. People in the audience were like, "What the fuck are these guys doing? They must be stoned." And sometimes we were!

Those were the times, right?

I like chromaticism. I enjoy hearing vibes players who play more in that direction. I heard Steve Nelson recently with Chris Potter, and he played one solo where I was like, "Yeah, man!" It was a blues with some changes. Certain vibes players stay inside. Chris played a solo that was inside, outside, and upside down, you know? Then Steve proceeded to play some shit where I went, "Yeah... that's great. That's wonderful. That's playing the music. Not playing it safe." At one point he was playing with four then three mallets for a while, then put one aside and finished with two and played this amazing solo.

You know what I love about Steve Nelson? The unpredictability of his playing. He's a true jazz musician. A true improviser.

He sure is.

He doesn't know what he's going to play next. It's exciting for the listener, because he's not playing a bunch of stock licks to make his solo sound smooth. He's going wherever his ear takes him, wherever the moment takes him.

I go hear him as a reminder to myself. If I do a gig with Joe Lovano, I want take it outside. At the Steps reunion at Birdland, we were playing tunes I've played for forty years, you know? It's easy to fall into patterns. "I know where we're going, I know how it has to build." I find myself thinking, "Oh, fuck, I'm just doing the same shit I've been doing for the last forty years." You get really bummed with yourself. Some of that music, harmonically, forces you to stay inside the tonality, but there are composition where I can use more chromaticism and rhythmic phrases, and move outside the chord structures. Eliane Elias, our pianist, is not only a great improviser and composer, but really sensitive in that she'll lay out a few choruses so that I can begin my solos with four mallets. As soon as I put two aside she's right there comping... and she, Marc Johnson and Peter Erskine are just amazing. I love that band, and it was great fun to perform material we've worked on or have played in the past. On the other hand, when I play with Bobo Stenson, I don't even know what the fuck we're going to play. We might have two or three tunes in mind, but the rest of it's going to be totally free. You know, walk the tightrope.

Do you ever feel like you fail musically, when you're living in that place? Playing without a net?

Oh yeah. There's times when it definitely sucks! (laughs)

But you accept that as part of the process?

Yeah. He and I have been around long enough to just smile and say, "That didn't work," but then there are those magical moments that come out of playing pieces that have some structure, and then allow us to play completely free. People come up to me and say, "I caught that show you guys did, and it was magical!" One evening we were called for an encore. We went on stage and I said, "What do you want to play?" He said, "You want to play 'Autumn Leaves?'" I said, "Really? Okay." And we were all over the place, and I forgot about that evening's performance. A fan recently sent me a recording of it that he made on his phone, and I thought, "Boy, we were really taking some chances." There were a couple moments where we fell off the tightrope... but we just get back on, and then it was like taking a magical carpet ride... nothing planned, just truth. If we were playing with a bassist and drummer, we might be inclined to play more inside.

Yeah, you can only get into those moments with the right players. People who are willing to take that chance.

And the right audience, too. Certain audiences at a Steps show just want to hear "Sara's Touch," "Oops," "Beirut" or one their favorite Steps tunes. They think, "I'm not going to walk out of here two hundred dollars poorer and not hear one of my favorite Steps Ahead tunes." They want to hear tunes I played in 1985. We do make it a point to at least play one of the old pieces each set!

It's almost more of a pop gig at that point, right?

It is, in some ways but with those musicians it's always different. We continue to write new material and rework some of the old pieces. We had great fun at the Steps reunion. I asked saxophonist (George) Garzone to join us for the Birdland gig. George played with my" American Diary" quartet with (Peter) Erskine and Marc Johnson. Erskine loves Garzone. George helped to take it out a little bit on the solos, which was cool. When we were in Tokyo, Bob Sheppard was our saxophonist and was fantastic... more like Michael Brecker would approach the tunes. Bob is amazing and could play it any way he wanted, but that's how he approached it. He grew up listening to Michael play those tunes. George was the wildcard with Steps, and we loved his approach too. Amazing player. There have been over 40 musicians who have performed or recorded with Steps Ahead since 1977... I'll include a list, just for posterity, at the end of this interview. It's interesting because we began as an acoustic band, went electric, and then in the late 90's I went back to hiring acoustic musicians. Currently I employ both acoustic and electric players, depending on the tour. I've also been performing with quite a few big bands the last few years, playing the Steps Ahead repertoire.

That's probably refreshing to hear someone play your music in a totally different way. I wanted to ask you about Brecker. He was an icon of his generation, and you worked with him closely during the 80's, right?

Mostly the 80's, then we did some reunion things after that. We were very close. I was with Michael near the end. He called me and asked if I wanted to go to a Yankees game. I said, "Yeah, let's go." He had finished his album "Pilgrimage." I also went up to his house, and he was playing some insane shit... he was taking lessons from some Bulgarian flutist. He was playing all this incredible music. I really miss his presence. Pure genius!

We had a wonderful reunion in 2004. We were at the Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival. It was Mike Stern, myself, Steve Gadd, Daryl Jones and Michael. There were tens of thousands of people there. It was the thirty-fifth anniversary of the festival, so they had all these fusion groups there. Michael had just finished touring with Herbie (Hancock), and wasn't feeling well. I loved him. He was like a younger brother. We had so much fun on the road together. Were you going to ask me about his playing or his influence?

What did you personally get from his playing and his approach to music?

The first time I heard him was when I had that big band called White Elephant, and Michael's brother Randy was playing trumpet. I had access to recording studios because I was producing and arranging a lot of stuff, in the late 60's and early 70's. When the studio was "dark," I would call a bunch of guys... it was like social media is today... and they would spread the word. Whoever wanted to show up would show up. We'd jam all night. Sometimes there'd be eight cats, other times there would be twenty-five. Jay Messina started recording these jam sessions. We had George Young on alto sax, the Brecker brothers, Frank Vicari was playing alto, Ronnie Cuber on baritone, Barry Rogers on trombone, from the first Dreams group, Lew Soloff, Jon Faddis, who had been with Woody Herman and played lead trumpet, and then I must have had ten different guitar players: David Spinozza, Bob Mann, Hugh McCracken, Sam Brown... on and on. Tony Levin was pretty much the house bassist, although there were other cats who would come by. On drums, Donald McDonald, then later Steve Gadd. Warren Bernhardt on piano. I hardly played vibes at all and played mostly organ. We would just jam on a groove for forty minutes. Different guys would come in, sit in, leave. It was great fun. But that's where I met Michael. He played a solo, then everyone turned around and said, "Holy shit! What the fuck was that? Who's this guy?" He was under the radar, as far as the critics were concerned for many years. It was something that always bugged me. As an improviser, if you look at the Downbeat polls, for years critics completely ignored both he and Steve Gadd. It wasn't until Michael left Steps, and started making his own albums that he became accepted by the "critics." There's quotes around the word "critics."

Right.

It was always the usual cast of characters, Sonny Rollins for example. Cats that I thought were extraordinary on their instruments, like Michael and Steve—guys who changed the course of how musicians approached the sax and drums, and were overlooked for years.

That's interesting. Brecker made a leap on the saxophone. We could call it a technical leap, or an improvisational leap... which leads me into one of the questions I like to ask vibes players: Is it possible that someone will make a quantum leap on the vibraphone, in years to come? If we look back on the instrument's history, which you've already done in this conversation, Hampton was the first person to make a huge leap, creating the idiom of jazz vibraphone. The next one was made by Milt, who used the motor and introduced a whole new concept, which brought the vibes into the bebop and post-bop eras. I wouldn't want to exclude Terry Gibbs from the conversation...

Absolutely not. He was right there.

Then there's Gary, Bobby, and also you, with your four-mallet innovations. There were at least a couple leaps in there, between you guys. Bobby certainly made his indelible contribution to the music. But looking ahead, do you imagine that someone will take the vibraphone to some totally new place, within the parameters of jazz and creative music?

I certainly hope so. Joe Locke recently sent me a video of some guy in Finland who is amazing. It was from a few years back. This guy is like, "Holy shit!" I'd have to look up his name. It's got like twenty consonants in it. Joe said, "I played a gig in Finland, Mike, and then this guy got up to play after me. I heard a bit and thought it was cool. Then he played some straight ahead, and I thought, holy shit. Then he did some four mallet stuff. Holy fuck!" You know, Joe can get excited. "This guy is a motherfucker!" Nobody knows about this guy, and I thought I knew pretty much everyone. You're always looking for someone who will make you say, "Wow, I've never heard anyone approach the instrument like that." I call it the goose bump factor.

What do you imagine someone doing that might give you those goose bumps? What can you imagine someone doing to push the instrument in new directions?

I can imagine someone playing on a four-octave vibraphone, like an octopus. Playing some shit in the way someone would approach the marimba. Being completely, totally innovative, and not necessarily playing standards. They could be playing original music and improvising, and make you say, "Wow. This is new. This is some other shit." I'm not saying it can't happen on a three-octave instrument, but there's a certain limitation, you know? It's like, "Oh, we're doing the up and down thing."

(laughs)

Protocol.

Yes, protocol. So anyway, a three-octave vibraphone has some limitations. Guys are fooling around with pickups now, and perhaps someone will start using the vibes for more electronic music. Looping themselves and using the technology we have today. Maybe someone will develop a career strictly as a soloist, with all this shit going on electronically around them. Creating loops and samples, but not just on one chord. Moving around harmonically. You'd say, "Wow, there's a lot of composition, arranging, and thought here." I'd like to hear that. It could also be someone playing with more than four mallets. I heard a Russian cat playing with five mallets. He had an extra mallet in the left hand. He moved around beautifully with it. He asked me, "Can you do that?" Because of my technique with the pinky, it was easy for me to add a fifth mallet to my grip. I played a standard for him and his tongue was hanging out a little bit... but he really had it down better than me. I was playing hipper harmony, but he could actually move the three mallets around with ease. So somebody who's doing something like that could potentially create a "holy shit" moment. I don't know...

Those are some interesting thoughts. I've fooled around with three mallets in one hand, but it seems hard to get to a point where it's really musical.

The problem with three mallets is moving it chromatically, right?

Yes.

But if that middle mallet, between the index finger and the middle finger... if that mallet was able to move in and out, so you could move chromatically... One time I made a little gadget tying the middle mallet to my middle finger, between the first knuckle and the middle knuckle. And I had a little gadget attached to my wrist that had an open rod, where the mallet could slip through there... imagine that middle mallet being able to move up and down, from the edge of one bar to the edge of another bar. I fooled around with that, and that was the only way I could figure out to play chromatically all the way up the instrument. It's bizarre. I'd have to show you. Tie a rubber band on a mallet, attach it to your middle finger and you'd get the idea.

The fact that it can be done, and there's a way to do it, suggests that someone will eventually do it really well, right?

Absolutely, yeah! I'd want to hear that. I'd want to be at that workshop.

Me too.

There's one more topic I'd like to chat about with you, and that is traveling. You've been on the road extensively during your long career, and you've been to Europe and Japan a million times. Probably a bunch of other places also.

A bunch. The first overseas tour was to South America in 1959. The other was the state department tour I mentioned earlier, in '61. I don't know if I mentioned our stop in Thailand where the 'troupe' played a command performance for the Prince, who is now King, and is also a jazz clarinetist. After the concert the Prince ask Buddy if the band would like to jam with him. It was just our sextet, the Prince, and a bodyguard. It was really fun and weird at the same time. So, have I been everywhere? I believe I've played in countries that don't even exist anymore.

You've been places that Seal Team Six hasn't even been.

(laughs)

Even recently, I was in Fez, Morocco and Baku, Azerbaijan where there's oil money, you dig. Bands are doing those gigs now because it's lean out there these days. Years ago it was like, "I'm going out for two months," then you come home for a week and go back out again. You could tour for the whole year. Now, it's really hard for most groups. I have no desire to do that anymore anyway. Even if I did, I can't do it physically.

Are you happy that you came along when you did, instead of being twenty-two years old right now?

Oh, definitely. Twenty-two? I don't know what I would do. I hear these incredible musicians coming out of colleges. They've got technique, they can read anything, play in every time signature... really innovative in their improvisations. They've got all this shit together that twenty year-olds, when I was that age, didn't even dream of having the knowledge to do... but where does one play today? There aren't that many clubs that employ jazz musicians. When I was touring with Buddy Rich, we played Birdland for three weeks, opposite Art Blakey. There were always two bands. Then we'd go to Philadelphia, and we'd play at Pep's for a week or two. Then we'd jump down to Washington, head over to Atlanta, Miami, and New Orleans, go up to St. Louis, Kansas City. These were all two or three-week engagements. Go up to Detroit, Baker's Keyboard Lounge. Head over to Chicago, do a few weeks there. There was even a jazz club we'd play in Kenosha, Wisconsin! By the time you got back to New York, you were back at Birdland and you were starting the circuit all over again. You could just play all year long in the States. You didn't even have to leave the USA. The other thing, Anthony, and this is really important, is that you were playing one club for six nights a week, and five or six sets. At Pep's in Philly, we played six nights and a matinee. You were there from eight until three in the morning. When you hear the Miles, Blakey and Horace Silver's bands during that era and how they developed and kept evolving, it was partly due to the fact that they played that circuit. It's different now. Now, you go on a tour and you're in San Sebastian, Spain for one concert, then you fly to the Czech Republic, and then back to Milan for one night, then you're in some club in Germany, and exhausted from the jet lag and the damn security lines at the airport. A schlep to the airport, then to the hotel for an hour, off to a sound check, then get on the stage to make music that is fresh, creative and inspirational. Some guys do it, and I don't know how. I mean, I try to do it, but it's different than how the old cats used to tour. You would stay in the same place, and you'd be rested. You'd come in the next night and it was a new audience. You were playing opposite Coltrane, Miles, Horace, Cannonball... that was like getting schooled. That was an experience. All week long, you're sitting in the audience listening to these guys. I was lucky. Really lucky.

You also had a career as a producer, doing big-name pop projects like Carly Simon. You must lament what's happened to the recording industry in recent years.

Yes, absolutely, because there was such a wonderful scene happening in New York. There was a vibrant session scene here. Even if you were playing on a stupid TV commercial, and you did a few of those a week, it was enough to pay your rent. You could actually live in Manhattan. You could be part of the scene, go listen to music, do some record dates and start building a career and a reputation. I don't know how many recording studios there were at the time but there plenty and quite busy. All the networks had big recording studios. CBS had multiple studios. I did a lot of Paul Simon records there. I'm talking about big studios, where popular singers like Sinatra recorded with strings and full orchestra. You had Webster Hall, A& R studios and quite a few smaller studios. There was one in a fantastic studio built in a church, called Media Sound. There was Rudy Van Gelder's studio, right up there on the Palisades. I remember once doing thirty-three session dates in a week. That was tops for me.

That's crazy.

Yeah. Most of them were TV commercials or film dates, but here I am, sitting in a room with Eddie Bert, Kai Winding, J.J. Johnson... I can go down the line. Snooky Young and Jerome Richardson. All these amazing cats. Thad Jones and Mel Lewis would be on a session with me during the day, and then play on Monday nights at the Village Vanguard their big band. (laughs) It was great. I recall doing a session for arranger Manny Albam called "Soul of the City." The trumpet section included Freddie Hubbard, Joe Nueman, Ernie Royal, Burt Collins... J.J. Johnson on trombone... Jerome Richardson, Phil Woods, Frank Wess, reeds; Hank Jones, piano; Richard Davis, bass. I don't recall who the drummer was, or if there was one. Then, many of the studio musicians were hanging out between sessions at a restaurant called Jim and Andy's. There was a musician's service called Radio Registry, which all session musicians belonged to, and contractors would book you for dates through that service. The contractor would call and say, "I need four trombones, etc., name the personnel, the time of the date, etc." You'd hang out at Jim and Andy's having lunch or a drink, and there was a phone connected to radio registry: "Hey, we need a drummer at this studio ASAP," or, "We need a percussionist in an hour," and if you were right there you had a gig. A cartage service would bring your shit over to the studio, set it up. You might not know who the artist was either. One time I showed up and it was for James Brown's sessions. For two weeks we played grooves. James Brown didn't even show up. We were just laying down tracks. That was fun. "What should I play on this? I'll play some congas. Or I'll play a fucking tambourine. Let's just get into a groove." Bernard Purdie, Chuck Rainey, Cornell Dupree, Richard Tee, Eric Gale, David Spinozza. Those cats could lay down a groove, you know?

That's a different time in the music business that you're describing.

I lament that it's not there anymore for young kids, getting to hang out with older cats. Someone might say, "Well, those guys couldn't improvise at a high level." Whatever. There's certain experience you get from playing different genres of music... I'm not talking about a deodorant commercial, of course... but people will ask me, "How come you were asked to play on this Paul McCartney record?" I was called for that three or four years ago... or on Carol King's record. I did get called on a lot of folk records which had originally booked a vibraphonist, but then they would decide to replace that player's parts...."Hey, Mike, can you come in and overdub on these tunes?" As I mentioned, performing with various folk musicians (singer/songwriters), I learned how to approach their music. If I'm going to play with John Sebastian, or Don McLean... and I've done various projects with Paul Simon, Art Garfunkel, Mark Knopler, Janus Ian, Carly Simon and James Taylor... I've learned what NOT to play! Gary Burton also played folk music as well, and I can hear it in his palette of improvisation. Gary played on Tim Hardin's first album. He was coming out of the Midwest, and he was influenced by that music. You know his history. I'm not sure a pure bebop vibraphonist would be right for that kind of recording session. But if you're exposed to a certain genre of music... if you listen to it on the radio, dig the records, attend live performances... then those musical experiences morph into your very being. I'm not sure Gary or I could play like Roy Ayers on a funk record, and I certainly would not be called to play the amazing bebop records Bobby played on. Of course, I can't imagine any vibraphonist replacing Milt Jackson on ANY record he performed on... his approach to improvisation was pure genius. As far as I'm concerned, we're all standing on the shoulders of two giants, Hamp and Milt.

Because you were a producer, also, I would guess that you could always hear the bigger picture—how the vibes were going to fit into the music as a whole. You had an overarching sense of how the music was going to sound, as opposed to someone who just comes in to lay down a track, and they're just going to play their stuff and split. You were probably thinking sonically. How are the vibes going to fit into the mix with everything else?

I learned that not so much from being a producer, but from playing with Tim, and from my experience living in Woodstock and hanging in the Village in the early 1960's. I was just a kid, in my twenties. I learned what to play and what not to play. I would listen to what was being played on the acoustic guitar, and determine what was going to work on vibes. "This is the (approach) that's going to allow me sound like someone who's never played bebop, who has listened to Hank Williams records and lived in Nashville all his life." I imagine I'm a guitarist playing the vibraphone. That mind set is how I approached the music of folk singers and let's say hipper singer/songwriters, who utilize more complex chords or tunings, a la Joni Mitchell. So when I became an arranger or producer for singers in these genres, I was thinking about the vibraphone parts last, not first. And if I did utilize the vibraphone, I would really focus on the lyrics. That was really important to me. I grew up listening to vocalist from the late 30's, 40's and early 50's. Ella, Billie, Sinatra, Eckstine and Nat King Cole. My step-grandfather used to say to me, "Okay, you're playing 'Lush Life.' What was this man talking about? What is the song all about? What's the story, what's the sentiment?" With folk music, if you're not into what the artist singing about, you're just thinking, "Fuck, this is just another recording date." I love listening to James Taylor. I really dug what he was saying and the way he accompanied himself... still do! His artistry resonated with me, as did the Beatles, Dylan and Joni, just to mention a few. I wanted to participate not only as a fan but also as a musician.

Here's my last question for you, Mike: With all the traveling you've done, were you the kind of artist who would be out exploring all the time—culturally, historically, checking out cities, making new friends and immersing yourself in the particular world you happened to be in at a given time? I'm asking because I used to travel a lot myself in the past, and that was my personality. I always wanted to get out and experience the various places I visited. I wanted to absorb as much as possible, and bring that new experience back to my life here in the States. Were you into that also?

Comments