I can remember the exact moment I knew I wanted to be a professional guitar player. It was the day of my 8th grade graduation, and my class of 83 kids was walking down the unusually long city block to our schools’ auxiliary church. Though it was a five-minute walk at most, I snuck in my headphones for a chance to escape the boredom. Having bought Dream Theater’s album Awake the night before, I selected a song at random. The song was Scarred, which instantly became my favorite song in the world. It still is today, almost ten years later. Hearing John Petrucci’s opening solo was truly a life-changing event for me. The bluesy phrasing was catchy and original and the volume swells succeeded in transporting the listener to a far away, lonely mental place. His tone while touching the strings still remains unmatched by any subsequent guitarist. Taken aback, I stood like a total idiot as my classmates shuffled past me without a care in the world, not knowing that my mind was in another universe completely. I fell behind the group, as I did all I could to get as much of this song in my ears before the teachers noticed I was (once again) not doing what I was supposed to. The second solo came not long after, the crazy runs in Lydian Dominant. I found this solo to be very scary, as the precision of Petrucci’s hands was apparent like never before. As a young and dumb guitarist, I felt absolutely dwarfed by this giant of the instrument, but not in a bad way. I took it as inspiration, rather than a reason to quit. Then it finally happened, the song reached a climax and Petrucci started in with his third solo. This was the one that truly took my head off. The gorgeous phrasing, the perfectly executed scale runs, the melody that would be stuck in my head for years to come . . . I was instantly floored. This is the very moment I knew that I wanted to play guitar professionally, and that nothing else as a career path, life choice, or potential future would do. With my new hero guiding my every choice for the rest of my formative days, I knew I had to be a guitarist.
A few years filled with intense practice went by before I got to see my hero for the first time, but when I did, things were not the same the next day. The first time I saw Dream Theater was during the tour in which they were opening for Iron Maiden. This night was especially crazy because Iron Maiden was my other favorite band besides Dream Theater. My Dad and I travelled from Fargo, North Dakota to Tinley Park, Illinois to see the show. It was our first time for both bands. I had just picked up some merch from a Maiden stand when I heard it, the opening thunder of “As I Am” from the Train of Thought album. I ran to my seat, only six rows back from the stage and marveled at the sight of the man I looked up to: John Petrucci. He stood tall, clutching his Music Man guitar, with a sort of magnetic confidence. He knew how badass he was, and he was going to show everyone in the amphitheater. My father can attest to it; during that show I didn’t move a muscle. In fact, I’m not sure I even blinked. Petrucci didn’t miss a note the entire show, but more important than that, he looked like he was having fun as he performed. The entire band did. Even after doing music for so long, they still looked like they actually cared about the show and really enjoyed their own music as well. Needless to say, Mr. Petrucci remained my hero.
My next encounter with John Petrucci was a little strange. My friend sent me a picture message on my phone of John Petrucci walking around the Berklee campus. I quickly threw on some pants (at four in the afternoon) and literally ran a half-mile to try and meet him. I was successful! Meeting him was very surreal, but he was the nicest person in the world on that afternoon. We talked briefly about how cool Dream Theater was, and he asked me about my classes at Berklee and which other guitarists I liked to listen to. Everything was going well, until I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. In my excitement, I got too nervous, and had to politely excuse myself from the conversation. I went around the corner and found a trashcan, and then promptly lost the contents of my stomach. According to my friends that were still talking to him, he actually heard my befouling of the trashcan, and said, “Wow, I hope he isn’t too sick.” A small, but very thoughtful well-wishing I do believe.
Only a few months later I was given the opportunity to redeem myself. Once again, I saw Mr. Petrucci on the street and this time, I was bound and determined not to blow chunks. Spotting him from a Dunkin Donuts (it would be awhile until my diet improved) across the street, I said to my mother in a gasp, “Ma! That’s John Petrucci, right there.” She looked at me and just said “Go”. I promptly jumped out of my seat, and ran across Mass Ave without looking in either direction for oncoming traffic. Lo and behold, I didn’t die and was able to meet my hero for the second time. Once again, he was extremely nice and seemed like he had all the time in the world to talk. Also, he was humble, which is always nice to see once an artist gets to “that level”.
I was able to see Dream Theater two more times before penning this little tale, once at the Boston Opera House where Dream Theater filmed a DVD with the Berklee Symphony Orchestra, and once at the Orpheum in Boston, where Dream Theater was playing The Astonishing from front to back.
I snagged a backstage pass for their show at the Orpheum and met the entire band. Once again, I met my hero. However, this time was different. This time, I told him the story you just read. About how Scarred was literally life changing for me, and how without him, my life would be very different. I even brought along my Awake tab book and had him sign page 126, the very page that the Scarred notation starts on. It is still my favorite song.
I’m sure I’ll see Dream Theater many more times. Until then, I’m learning all I can at Berklee, and yes, that includes as many Petrucci songs and solos as my fingers can handle. Am I a copycat of his playing? No, far from it. However, I can’t help but grin on the inside when a friend tosses me that same old line of “Nice lick, dude! You must listen to a lot of Dream Theater!” Why yes, yes I do.