When I was a kid, you were the boogie man.
My parents didn’t want me listening to you.
Idiots took your songs and thought they were a sign from Satan, and lazy white men used you as a scapegoat so America didn’t have to deal with the real issue: shitty parenting.

I was warned not to listen to your band because you guys were supposedly so satanic that your guitarist — Randy Rhoads — could make the guitar talk.
You were so evil, they said, you bit the head off a bat. Some claimed you threatened to kill puppies on stage.

But time passed — and you didn’t go anywhere.

The little kids who heard the legend of “evil Ozzy” grew up.
We formed our own opinions.
And the vicious pitbull in the junkyard? Turned out to be a friendly dog who sat down and shit like the rest of us.

You were the first celebrity I noticed who talked openly about battling drugs and alcohol.
You showed me there was nothing to be ashamed of in that fight.
You sat next to loved ones in sickness, not knowing what the future held — and still found the strength to go out, rock, and make people smile.

You gave the world many gifts.
You helped people escape their problems for a while.
But maybe more than anything — you made a lot of us dream.

Thanks, Ozzy.

From the scared little kid they warned...
to the grown man who knows better.

- Mike Glendinning
www.strumlife.org

Opening: Back in 1995, I picked up two John Coltrane albums that would end up changing my entire approach to music: Giant Steps and A Love Supreme: Live. I didn’t fully realize it at the time, but these albums would awaken something deeper than musical inspiration. They introduced me to the idea that music wasn’t just sound. It could be spirit.

The Shift: I had always been drawn to intense, heavy music. But the moment A Love Supreme started, I felt something entirely different. Coltrane’s tone wasn’t just articulate—it was sacred. Patient. It felt like he was saying a prayer with every breath he blew into that sax. It didn’t hit me in the head or the ears first. It hit me straight in the soul.

And that was just Part I.

The Breakthrough: By the time Part II kicked in, I was floored. McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones, and Jimmy Garrison created this space that felt completely outside of time. I remember literally crying the first time I heard it. And not just once. That piece has brought tears many times since.

What they played wasn’t just jazz. It was testimony. It was worship. It was divine.

Coltrane’s Journey: Coltrane wasn’t just composing music. He was healing. According to his wife, Alice, he spent as much time meditating and writing spiritual reflections as he did composing. After years of addiction and struggle, Coltrane had found something bigger than himself. And through that discovery, he created a body of work that still ripples through people’s lives today.

He didn’t just recover. He transcended. And he brought others along for the ride.

What It Taught Me: Coltrane taught me that music could carry spirit. That you could worship with a melody. That you could praise without words. That recovery, surrender, and divine connection could all be captured in tone, in rhythm, in silence between notes.

A Love Supreme wasn’t just a jazz record. It was an altar.

Closing: You don’t need to be religious to understand what Coltrane did. You just need to listen with your soul open. Because when someone plays with that kind of depth, it calls something out of you. 

Music's Finest Moments

Jimi Hendrix – Band Of Gypsys Live at Fillmore East – "Machine Gun"

If you want to hear someone’s soul screaming through a huge amp and a guitar, it’s Jimi Hendrix's "Machine Gun." People say Hendrix was sloppy, but not here. This is controlled fury.

Derek Trucks – Live with BB King and John Mayer

During a live performance with BB King, his wife Susan Tedeschi, and John Mayer, Derek Trucks absolutely made the guitar sing. John Mayer looked helpless next to him. Honestly, if I was on that stage, you would have heard me on the mic saying it smelled like someone shit their pants up there.

Metallica – Cliff Burton "(Anesthesia) - Pulling Teeth"

Cliff Burton on Kill 'Em All is mind-blowing. He’s like Geezer Butler meets Jaco Pastorius. 

Pantera – “Suicide Note Pt. 1 & 2”

Pantera hit deep with these. Part 1 is haunting. Part 2 is insane. Dimebag Darrell pulls off some sounds that straight up feel like a pinball machine going haywire. I don't know if that was his goal, but damn, it works.

Skip James – “Devil Got My Woman”

I first heard this on the movie Ghost World. What’s crazy is Skip James plays an even creepier version backstage at the 1966 Newport Folk Festival. His vibe is unmatched.

Primus – "Jerry Was A Race Car Driver"

I was 15, watching MTV, and Pauly Shore walks up to these three odd-looking dudes. He says something like, "You made it to the big time." Les Claypool responds, "That’s scary." Then the video starts. That moment was unforgettable.

Megadeth – "Holy Wars... The Punishment Due" & “Hangar 18”

Megadeth killed it with these tracks. But let’s be honest, Marty Friedman absolutely stole the show.

More to Come

Some of these stories deserve deeper dives. I’ll cover the "Coltrane changes," Cliff Burton's legacy, and The Beatles' deeper impact in upcoming posts.

If these songs hit you too, let’s talk. Drop a comment or send me your "fix" track — that one song you just can’t put down.

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The Songs That Shaped Me: A Guitarist's Deep Dive

These songs, albums, and musical moments didn’t just inspire me — they shaped my entire journey. Some made me want to play guitar, some made me see music differently, and some hit me so hard I chased them like a fix I couldn’t get enough of. No particular order, just pure influence.

John Coltrane – "Countdown" and Giant Steps

Year: 1993
Location: Cabot College, Hayward, CA

Frank Samares, our jazz improv instructor and an absolute beast of a piano player, introduced us to the wild world of John Coltrane. He handed us note-for-note transcriptions of Giant Steps and told us to "read along." We couldn’t flip the pages fast enough. This wasn’t your typical jazz — it was almost alien. That day was my brutal introduction to Coltrane changes. I’ll cover the backstory of those changes in another blog. 

Miles Davis – Kind of Blue

In 1997, I stumbled across Miles Davis in my kid’s mom’s record collection. The opening note took me on a journey that nothing else could replicate. Even if jazz isn’t your thing, this album is a must-listen for anyone who loves music.

Metallica – "One"

Back in 1988 (I think), at age 12, I had never heard anything like Metallica’s One. The machine gun guitars blew my mind. As I dove deeper into the band, I discovered the legend of Cliff Burton. I wrote about him in another post, and his impact still resonates.

Led Zeppelin – "Black Dog"

March 10th, 1989. I pulled Led Zeppelin IV out of my friend’s parents’ tape collection and that was it. Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog gave me "that feeling." From that day forward, I wanted to play guitar. Jimmy Page did something no one else could do for me.

The Doors – "Light My Fire"

I probably almost wore out my dad’s Doors Greatest Hits record. I obsessively listened to The Doors in high school, especially "Light My Fire." I love hearing about their creative process and influences — which, funny enough, line up with mine these days.

Jimi Hendrix – Are You Experienced

My parents hated Jimi Hendrix. They thought he was "too out there." I first saw him on MTV, lighting his guitar on fire. I was 11, it was life-changing. Hendrix's impact on me is complicated; some fans turned me off with the whole "playing behind the head and with their teeth" thing. But the raw artistry? Unmatched.

Buddy Holly – Buddy Holly Lives

I found this gem in my parents’ record stash. Buddy Holly fascinated me. My dad always said he preferred Buddy over Elvis because Buddy wrote his own songs. That stuck with me — write your own.

The Beatles – Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

In first grade, my mom played the first half of Sgt. Pepper's for me before school. I loved it so much I taped the album sleeve cutouts to my bedroom door. The Beatles' influence on me could fill an entire blog on its own.

Ozzy Osbourne & Randy Rhoads – Tribute

I borrowed my brother-in-law’s Ozzy Osbourne/Randy Rhoads Tribute tape after hearing all these crazy 7th-grade rock legends about spooky stuff happening if you played it at night. Randy became this mythic figure for me. Over the years, he evolved from this mysterious, magical guitarist to a symbol of dedication and relentless practice. Randy Rhoads is the definition of guitar obsession.

Mr. Bungle – "Quote Unquote"

11th grade. I was stoned. I heard Mr. Bungle’s "Quote Unquote" and it blew my mind. Just go listen. You’ll get it.

More to Come

Some of these stories deserve deeper dives. I’ll cover the "Coltrane changes," Cliff Burton's legacy, and The Beatles' deeper impact in upcoming posts.

If these songs hit you too, let’s talk. Drop a comment or send me your "fix" track — that one song you just can’t put down.