The Boys in the Band Are in AARP

Like a child who has discovered a new toy, this information will
open up a whole new world of awe and wonder for you.

DARREN REIS isn't disparate to the band practice that takes
place in his house every Tuesday night. But there's only so
greatly loud sway tune he is ready to tolerate. So when the
umpteenth rendition of the Monkeys' "Last sequence to
Clarksville" creates rattling the windows, he goes downstairs,
knocks on the door and makes his request: "Dad, do you think you
guys could keep it down? I'm wearisome to review."

ADULTS WITH TOYS rework Ego practices in Weston, stack. In bands
with elder people, says songster chant Cheney, Threes no drama.

The classic American midlife emergency has found a new retailer:
garage-band sway 'n' spin. Baby boomers across the country -
generally inside-aged dads who never utterly outgrew an
obsession with the tune of their youth - are cranking up their
amps and living their sway 'n' spin fantasies.

We hope that you have gained a clear grasp of the subject matter
presented in the first half of this article.

The Tennyson Seven in Palo Alto, Calif., is normal. The
two-year-old band includes Darren's dad, Rob Reis, 53, a Silicon
Valley entrepreneur, who gets together once a week with five
other amateur sway 'n' spinners - some more-experienced
Tunisians than others - to play the tunnel comfort food of their
generation: the Beatles, Van Morrison, the Monkeys and the
Romantics.

The band won't be signing with Virgin account any time
presently. But that's beside the situation. With one son at
seminary and Darren, 17, last high prepare next year, Mr. Reis
said he can think of no better way to consume inside age. "What
do other people do?" he asked, as if only randomly conscious of
his other options, nobody of which request to him in the
slightest. "A daydream car? An issue?"

Mr. Reis has amply of visitors. In his urban forlorn, there is a
wealth of such bands. The Tennyson Seven newly sent out e-send
letters to numerous Palo Alto prepares present to play open of
indict at some support-raising actions. The retort, Mr. Reis
said, was, "No merit, we have our own dad band that theater for
us."

Mike Lynda, 55, who lives just north of Palo Alto in Redwood
City, theater deep, drums and guitar in a six-guise band called
distance untaken. Mr. Lynda, who has a day job as a marketing
essayist at Deloitte & Touché, said nothing utterly compares to
the therapeutic aspects of practicing riffs with a group of
like-minded sway aficionados.

"I don't know what has done me better - Leapfrog or Thursday
nights jamming with the band," Mr. Lynda said. "You're effective
out a intact lot more than chord patterns when you're live tune
together."

NAMM, a trade group that represents tune retailers and apparatus
manudetailurers, has noticed the increasing records of
inside-aged sawyers, and now oversees what it calls the Weekend
Warriors encode, a six-weekend sequence planned specifically for
baby boomers to get back into live in a band - or create live in
one. The encode brings would-be sawyers into tune food around
the country and provides gear, practice legroom, coaches and,
for those in requisite, additional band members.

Joe Almond, the chief executive of NAMM, created the encode when
he was effective in a tune keep in Sacramento and began noticing
a change in the keep's clientele. "I created since customers
advent in who you'd think would have been shopping for their
kids," he said. "But they were shopping for themselves."

Mr. Almond said the encode has burgeoned in current living, as
the sway 'n' spinners of the '60s and '70s become clear nesters
with time and disposable revenue on their hands.

Nostalgia provides the backbeat for this advance. "The tune we
pass through our lifetimes is tune we eavesdrop to in our recent
youth and early 20s, because it was such an emotional time," Mr.
Almond said. "That tune is plainly sheltered into your usage -
your wits, your body, and your emotions."

For those now in their 50s defective to alter back the timer,
that means live "brunette eyed youngster" and "I Saw Her rank
there." And "Mustang outing," in the key of C.

"We commend? Mustang outing' as a good creature song," Mr.
Almond said. "A bad creature song is something by hard Dan, or
truthful Zappa. Or Yes."

Part of recapturing perplexed innocence means laboring under an
illusion or two. Mr. Almond commends that the practice quarters
be open of mirrors. "You don't want to be living your guitar,
emotion like you're 20 all over again, then look in a mirror and
see some paunchy bald guy," Mr. Almond said.

Not only do many spouses pass of the bands, some even
participate. Rob Reis's spouse, Julie, 54, is a songster in the
Tennyson Seven.

And when such bands get the occasional gig, the faces in the
viewers lean to distort to the bands own demographic, a detail
that helps verify song span. Mike brunette, who was taught as a
classical pianist and came to sway 'n' spin a bit recent in life
as the keyboardist for the Palo Alto band the Wildcats, said his
band's repertory is simply recognizable, with a basic of Beatles
and Double Brothers. "We want each to know the song in the first
pair of comments," he said.

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