The Boys in the Band

Dear Friends,

Today, I’ve been inspired to talk about something I have often thought about but never felt the right context for a written piece. It’s about the band I played in during college, and we called it Suntower.

I was a member of Suntower for only about a year and a half (there were three, maybe four versions of the band before it ran its course). I was a founding or charter member, along with Bob Barnett, Steve Steele, David George, David Heck, and Markham White.

It seems like it was longer, but I guess that comes from history—I was in a band with Bob and David Heck before that, and also with Bob and Steve during my time at Georgia Tech.

Suntower was formed in mid-1972 (if I remember correctly), and we began learning songs.

Here’s the trigger for my thoughts here. About ten days ago, I met with four of the band members within three days. Martha and I vacationed for a week in Blue Ridge, GA, and met with Markham and his wife Sherri at the Roo Winery in Ellijay (recommended for the mountain view from their patio). I couldn’t see Bob on this trip, but I talked to him. Then, two days later, I had dinner with David George and Steve Steele at the Canoe Restaurant in Vinings, GA. David Heck is the only member I didn’t get to see or talk to.

Over dinner, David mentioned that it had been 50 years since our Suntower heyday. He also pointed out that we should all reflect on it and be proud of our accomplishments. He showed me a letter from Dale Williams (a fan then; later, a friend and a member of Suntower).

The note from Dale was his account of how he felt when he first heard Suntower at UGA’s Memorial Hall. It detailed how he went from low expectations for our performance to becoming a fan during that single performance.

You see, Suntower was different from most bands. We thumbed our noses at "mere" rock and roll and pop songs. I used to say we were musical bigots, but that doesn’t cover it. We knew great music was being created out there in the early 1970s, and most other bands were hammering out standards and new songs that were easy to play. Those bands usually had a lead singer and maybe one backup singer. In Suntower, we actively looked for songs with good vocal harmonies that most musicians could not play.

And we found them, from bands like Yes, The Who (Tommy), Emerson Lake and Palmer, Deep Purple, and Genesis.

I remember a day in my dorm room at Georgia Tech when someone knocked on the door. It was Bob. With a look on his face as serious as I had ever seen, he crooked a finger at me and said, “Come with me.” Then he turned and walked away. He led me to Tech’s student center and their “listening” room. He put headphones on me and said, “Listen to this!” It was my first exposure to the song “Roundabout” by Yes.

To be honest, I was terrified. The song had a thundering bass line that seemed impossibly fast. Bob had more confidence in me than I had in myself. He knew I could do it, even if I was concerned. Though I’m not sure it was consciously, Bob always pushed me to be a better bassist.

All these guys were becoming experts on their instruments. I spent a lot of time in fear that I wasn’t good enough to play with them. I was successful with the band because we played every song note-for-note. After leaving the band, I believe I improved greatly because I stopped worrying about note-for-note and started focusing on why those notes worked well with the song’s chords and melody.

Despite this superior lineup, we struggled sometimes. We could always get college gigs – they all listened to FM radio and knew the songs we played. But we struggled when school was out. As we tried to play clubs, they didn’t want us because we didn’t play what they wanted. You see, clubs want you to play dancing music, which brings in the girls, which in turn brings in the guys, who buy drinks, dance with the girls, and everyone gets thirsty again.

That wasn’t who we were. Our fans loved to come to sit and hear us play orchestral rock, but that doesn’t sell many drinks.

I remember once we were rehearsing in my mom’s living room, and we couldn’t get the club owner (who lived five doors down) to stop by and hear us for a minute. It was frustrating.

Another time, we played in a “battle of the bands” and smoked the competition, only to find the same guys show up in the next level of competition when we thought they had been eliminated. We didn’t understand how it worked. The real purpose of the "battle" was to showcase the bands the organizers were promoting, and they wanted them to be in the final group. The good part of this “battle” thingie was that we got to play in the Panama City Municipal Auditorium in front of a crowd of 7000 people. The stage was so big that, when we performed, we felt like wide receivers spread out across the field.

In this first iteration of Suntower, we never backed off our original dream for the band. As far as I know, the subsequent iterations were of the same mind.

There’s more, but the story is becoming long, and you might be getting sleepy.

They say that men who strive together in a great endeavor for a common purpose are forever bound to one another. I can say that's true of the men in Suntower. I’m proud of what we did, how we stuck together during the bad times, and how we celebrated the good times.

Since that time fifty years ago, we have all lived successful lives. I believe the grit and determination we learned to harness in Suntower greatly influenced who we are today. Suntower made us more than what we would have been.

Thanks again to David George for reminding us of what we did and what we had (and have) together.

Oh, and by the way — Shameless Plug — David has a new album out. You can find it in Apple Music under "David William George." It's called "Phonoautograph." If you like music like Yes and Genesis, you'll love David's songs and his carefully crafted vocals. My favorite so far is "Rebounder".

Have an outstanding day!

Cheers and Regards,

Kim

PS: I read and respond to all messages you send me.