Small town people, especially people our age, were very clique-ish. There were the society people, the jocks, the ropers, the dopers, the intellectuals, the band dweebs, and so on. Our little gang was a clique of our own, because we weren't accepted by any other clique, and really didn't want to be.

We started practicing in Kevin and Johnny's basement one afternoon, and sort of expanded things from there. Johnny was the only one in the group with any real talent. He was both a band dweeb and an intellectual. He played drums with the band, and was really pretty good. He could read music pretty well, and was something of an electrical genius.

Kevin was Johnny's older brother. To this day, Kevin is something of an enigma. Kevin didn't fit in anywhere, not even with the rest of the misfits. Kevin was very nearsighted, almost to the point of being legally blind. He had very thick glasses that he seldom wore, electing instead to go for the "cool" and wear Ray-Ban Wayfarer's day and night. Naturally, that didn't help his already bad vision at all. Those Ray-Bans were one of Kevin's two trademarks. He was also never seen without his black leather jacket. The rest of Kevin's wardrobe was always interesting. I guess the best way to imagine it would be to think of it as if Stevie Wonder selected his own wardrobe and dressed himself. Nothing ever matched. Kevin was an expert on absolutely everything. All you had to do was ask him. He was an expert pool player, expert artist, expert bass guitar player, and expert anything else you might want to mention. At least he thought so. The reality, of course, was different.

I played keyboards. I had no musical training whatsoever, and played entirely by ear. I had an old upright piano at home that I bought fourth-hand from a church. It was much too heavy to move, so I also had a portable Hammond organ and a Moog synthesizer. both of which I had bought from a pawnshop. I wasn't great on them, but at least I was almost passable.

Bill Pothorst was our lead guitar player. He was another self-taught musician. He had lots of style and flash, but no real talent. To top off our merry little band, we had Allan Robertson. He played trombone and clarinet. Okay.... I know. Those are not typical rock band instruments, but we were not a typical rock band. Besides, Allan had access to a van, and the only way that we had access to Allan's van was to have him in the band. We all traded off on vocals and backup singing. Our sound was, well, decidedly different. Between Allan and Johnny, they had tweaked our amplifiers up to a point that was deafening. If we weren't good, at least we could make up for it by being loud. We called ourselves The Psychedelic Affair......(cont)