Another fine site..IMW - March 1, 2010
View Stoned Wolf
At Indie Music Works | The source for Indie Music, Indie Artists and Listeners
TLT50: News
View Stoned Wolf
At Indie Music Works | The source for Indie Music, Indie Artists and Listeners
Artist of the Month - February 2, 2010
For me a great Honor !!
Mixposure Artist of the Month
Click to enlarge
Well, we had a great start with our January Artist of the Month, and as the year continues to gain momentum, we turn the page now to February 2010's featured Artist.-- Larry Talbot aka "Wherewolfe" of TLT50. Here at MIXposure we shamelessly boast the talent of this veteran artist, who easily expands the boundaries of multiple genres. Within the realm of Wherewolfe Studio Productions, you will find a most exciting collection of dynamic, high-quality musicianship, playful mixing and professional quality arrangement and production. He produces a wide spectrum of instrumental driven original music, not bound by genres-- from ambient chill, experimental electro blues, deep house, drum & bass, to new age, soulful funk and Jam Band.
You can view his bio and listen to his music here at MIXposure, on the TLT50 artist page, in addition to his studio website at http://www.tlt50.com., which talks about how he learned and experimented with many of the sounds he continues to produce today. Writing and recording music became Larry's passion, and he admits its powerful force in his life.
The keyboard and musical prowess of Larry Talbot has always been front and center to the veterans here at MIXposure and elsewhere, as demonstrated by his steady stream of collaborations with various others. His music has also captured much attention from our newest artists and listening members alike. It is timeless and classic, though something that never gets dull or complacent. With his style and ability, Larry always has something fresh to offer to the listening audience, as well as being a most sought-after collaborating partner. An artist and musician in the true sense of the words, I hope you will take the journey under the full moon, and wander the streets of MIXposure to discover the legend of the "Wolf," Larry Talbot, at http://www2.mixposure.com/TLT50/music.php.
Congratulations to Larry from the MIXposure Team.
Mixposure Artist of the Month
Click to enlarge
Well, we had a great start with our January Artist of the Month, and as the year continues to gain momentum, we turn the page now to February 2010's featured Artist.-- Larry Talbot aka "Wherewolfe" of TLT50. Here at MIXposure we shamelessly boast the talent of this veteran artist, who easily expands the boundaries of multiple genres. Within the realm of Wherewolfe Studio Productions, you will find a most exciting collection of dynamic, high-quality musicianship, playful mixing and professional quality arrangement and production. He produces a wide spectrum of instrumental driven original music, not bound by genres-- from ambient chill, experimental electro blues, deep house, drum & bass, to new age, soulful funk and Jam Band.
You can view his bio and listen to his music here at MIXposure, on the TLT50 artist page, in addition to his studio website at http://www.tlt50.com., which talks about how he learned and experimented with many of the sounds he continues to produce today. Writing and recording music became Larry's passion, and he admits its powerful force in his life.
The keyboard and musical prowess of Larry Talbot has always been front and center to the veterans here at MIXposure and elsewhere, as demonstrated by his steady stream of collaborations with various others. His music has also captured much attention from our newest artists and listening members alike. It is timeless and classic, though something that never gets dull or complacent. With his style and ability, Larry always has something fresh to offer to the listening audience, as well as being a most sought-after collaborating partner. An artist and musician in the true sense of the words, I hope you will take the journey under the full moon, and wander the streets of MIXposure to discover the legend of the "Wolf," Larry Talbot, at http://www2.mixposure.com/TLT50/music.php.
Congratulations to Larry from the MIXposure Team.
FOLDED NAPKIN - December 18, 2008
This is a true story. No better time to read than now with the time of giving.
A Truckers Story
If this doesn't light your fire...your wood is wet!
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally
handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.
He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers
because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me;
the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded 'truck stop
germ' the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable
around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.
I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.
After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please,
but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer.
They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker,who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they
had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.
That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.
He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an
early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.
A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.
Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war whoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.
Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. 'OK, Frannie, what was that all about?' he asked.
'We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.'
'I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?'
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers
sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: 'Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK,'she said. 'But I don't know how he and his Mom aregoing to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is.' Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round
up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to
replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office.
She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.
'What's up?' I asked.
'I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to
clean it off,' she said. 'This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.'
She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed 'Something for Stevie'.
'Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,' she said, 'so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete,
and they ended up giving me this.' She handed me another paper napkin that had 'Something For Stevie' scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within
its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: 'truckers.'
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.
His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in
the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.
I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then
met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.
'Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,' I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. 'Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!' I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning
truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.
'First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,' I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had 'Something for Stevie' printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother.
'There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from
truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. 'Happy Thanksgiving,'
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.
But you know what's funny? While everybody else was
busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with abig, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.
Best worker I ever hired.
Plant a seed and watch it grow.
A Truckers Story
If this doesn't light your fire...your wood is wet!
I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally
handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.
He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers
because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.
The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me;
the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded 'truck stop
germ' the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable
around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.
I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.
After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please,
but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.
Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer.
They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker,who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they
had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.
That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.
He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an
early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.
A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.
Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war whoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news.
Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look.
He grinned. 'OK, Frannie, what was that all about?' he asked.
'We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.'
'I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?'
Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers
sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: 'Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK,'she said. 'But I don't know how he and his Mom aregoing to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is.' Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn't had time to round
up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to
replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.
After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office.
She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.
'What's up?' I asked.
'I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to
clean it off,' she said. 'This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.'
She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed 'Something for Stevie'.
'Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,' she said, 'so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete,
and they ended up giving me this.' She handed me another paper napkin that had 'Something For Stevie' scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within
its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: 'truckers.'
That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.
His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in
the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.
I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then
met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.
Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.
'Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,' I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. 'Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!' I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.
I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning
truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.
'First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,' I said. I tried to sound stern.
Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had 'Something for Stevie' printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.
Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother.
'There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from
truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. 'Happy Thanksgiving,'
Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well.
But you know what's funny? While everybody else was
busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with abig, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.
Best worker I ever hired.
Plant a seed and watch it grow.
TLT50-Music - November 14, 2007
Damn'...I failed to mention my connection at imusicscene
http://www.imusicscene.com/tlt50/
http://www.imusicscene.com/tlt50/
Some of the Best !! - November 13, 2007
Some of the best, new and totally talented people I've come across ,in the many choice sites one can find these days. Give it a listen.......LT
Words of Wisdom - August 9, 2007
Great words of wisdom.
The Horse Story
Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing.
Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.
If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.
As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is trusting that he will not be led astray. When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back , making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to
hear the bell.
Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way.
Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours.
And remember... be kinder than necessary - everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle
A Dog's Purpose, from a 4-year-old
A veterinarian was called to examine a ten-year-old
Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa,
and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and
they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family
we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the
euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would
be good for four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt
Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's
family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for
the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.
Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy
seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or
confusion.
We sat together for a while after Belker's death,wondering aloud
about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, 'I know why.'
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next
stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good
life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'
The four-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that,
so they don't have to stay as long.'
Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn stuff like:
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be
pure ecstasy.
Take naps.
Stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.
Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle
them gently.
Thanks, Rick...............
The Horse Story
Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing.
Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind. His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him. This alone is amazing.
If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field. Attached to the horse's halter is a small bell. It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.
As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk to where the other horse is trusting that he will not be led astray. When the horse with the bell returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, it stops occasionally and looks back , making sure that the blind friend isn't too far behind to
hear the bell.
Like the owners of these two horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need. Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way.
Good friends are like that... you may not always see them, but you know they are always there. Please listen for my bell and I'll listen for yours.
And remember... be kinder than necessary - everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle
A Dog's Purpose, from a 4-year-old
A veterinarian was called to examine a ten-year-old
Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife, Lisa,
and their little boy, Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and
they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family
we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the
euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would
be good for four-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt
Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's
family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for
the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on.
Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy
seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or
confusion.
We sat together for a while after Belker's death,wondering aloud
about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, 'I know why.'
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next
stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.
He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good
life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'
The four-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that,
so they don't have to stay as long.'
Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn stuff like:
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be
pure ecstasy.
Take naps.
Stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.
Be loyal. Never pretend to be something you're not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle
them gently.
Thanks, Rick...............
Boomer Guitar - June 13, 2007
I had the pleasure of laying down a few tracks with a young gifted guitar player....
Mr. Adam Boomer made a visit to Wherewolf Studio, spent a few hours and layed
down some great sounds.
A very live feel, which is was,
no layered sounds, overdub-
bing or "let's try that again".
Just give me a beat and let's
do it. Blues Jam G ... 4 tracks of raw power. With that in mind,take a listen.......
"download and enjoy " LT
www.myspace.com/adamboomer
Check out the "Boomer's" new Band
www.myspace.com/andrewsave
Mr. Adam Boomer made a visit to Wherewolf Studio, spent a few hours and layed
down some great sounds.
A very live feel, which is was,
no layered sounds, overdub-
bing or "let's try that again".
Just give me a beat and let's
do it. Blues Jam G ... 4 tracks of raw power. With that in mind,take a listen.......
"download and enjoy " LT
www.myspace.com/adamboomer
Check out the "Boomer's" new Band
www.myspace.com/andrewsave
Gary Vajgrt - May 24, 2007
Perhaps the finest musician I ever played with was Gary Vajgrt...A great trumpet player...amazing ! We played in a band together when he was young, I knew then he was destine for great things.
Gary played with the Flippers, Delbert McClinton and the Jailbreakers...to name a few. Writing most of the horn charts with every group he played in.
It's my pleasure to bring a sample of his fine work to this site. I hope you enjoy.............Larry T......
Gary played with the Flippers, Delbert McClinton and the Jailbreakers...to name a few. Writing most of the horn charts with every group he played in.
It's my pleasure to bring a sample of his fine work to this site. I hope you enjoy.............Larry T......
A Hammond B-3 - May 10, 2007
Thru the grace of good friends and the powers that be...........WhereWolf Studio now has a Hammond B-3 Organ.....1964 vintage and a 147 Leslie speaker cabinet(both classics) to add a bit of old school charm to the groove...."ain't it sweet"
Amazingly this is the same B-3 I sold back in 1976(?)
.....Very CooooooL..........
I must say it's like reuniting with an old friend I haven't seen in 30 yrs. Very special...............Thanks to Tommy Alesio for making it happen..................................
More news,pictures and yea some music from this classic piece of gear.......... Larry T.....
Amazingly this is the same B-3 I sold back in 1976(?)
.....Very CooooooL..........
I must say it's like reuniting with an old friend I haven't seen in 30 yrs. Very special...............Thanks to Tommy Alesio for making it happen..................................
More news,pictures and yea some music from this classic piece of gear.......... Larry T.....