Old School Groovin’ by John Royce Holtz, J.D., is a rocking, throwback Jam, reminiscent of the early eighties synthesizer rock, to a pastoral time when poisonous medicinal stupor was not necessary. Back then, I was a tad too neurotic, not at all psychotic, but barely on the upper echelon of my game as a burgeoning teenager. Now, this older Rocker is arguably a little bit more “off his rocker”…Or, perhaps he is just not rocking enough!….

Then again, one who knows he wields threads of delusions may be overall, quite sane and pragmatic, not to mention, idealistic and perhaps grandiose, like Abe Lincoln.

Way back in Pre-Orwellian 1984, I was a budding, tennis champion in 8th Grade at Town School, who had already bagged the San Rafael Racquet Club Championships. I also came in 5th Place in the NorCal Scholastic Chess Championships by winning my first three, consecutive chess matches (with clocks, albeit not yet with “clocking” tennis serves), garnishing me a world chess rating. I was the Co-Editor in Chief of the Town Crier, the school newspaper. I starred in an anti-drug play wearing a red, Michael Jackson, multi-zipper jacket that my Dad carried in his Pioneer/Army/Navy Surplus store…I wonder how much “stuff” can possibly become stuffed within those plethora of zippers?! How prophetic for my distaste of pharmaceuticals, let alone recreational dopers and sorrow for their plentiful victims…

I wrote an alternative finale to Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities that was actually noteworthy enough to become publishable quality.

I won the 8th Grade Science Fair with a fake project that I pulled off in a single all-nighter. Ironically, I reported in the Town Crier that my future Professional brother and my future cousin Doctor also won the science fair that year, in their respective classes, at Town School for Boys, one of the most prestigious K-8 prep schools in the United States.

In Mr. Warner’s Tactical Game as well as in the Economics Game, my respective teams both won third place. For the Economics Game, my company to bolster revenue was Coca Cola. Almost 25 years later, in 2008, I would later come up with Coke’s National Slogan for 2009, “Open Happiness.” As far as I’m concerned, the sugar inundator can open up the floodgates of happiness!—I received zero compensation…

I boasted an A- average at Town School…I was ready for university caliber without studying hardly at all in high school, where I became a formidable tennis bum…

In Mid-Weeklies Dancing School and at the Hamlin Girls’ School Dance, I slow danced, solemnly into harbor, as a dapper young gentleman, with the human equivalent of natural, non-poisonous medicine. A young beauty embraced me during my first and one of my spartan slow jams in possibly the next 40 years. I am merely less experienced than the average slow jam dancer…. And, slow dancing is my favorite passion and sport of choice—better than even surfing and tennis! So, at almost 55-years-young, I think it is high time to switch priorities…

I think the music at the Hamlin’s eternal moment that etched my identity as a young gentleman, was Spandal Ballet’s 1983 classic, True…”With a pill on my tongue, this… love has just begun….Why do I find it hard to write the next line? (I’m a singer/songwriter writer and hopeful, romantic author—who created a spin on Persona Theory to shift Personas, real quick, in the perennial ascetic life!) Oh, I want the truth to be said! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; I know this much is, true!” (The physical manifestation of vehement emotional ties with a potential soulmate!)

The highlight of Town School for Boys, besides placing well in the track meets while earning ribbons as almost a year younger than the rest of the youths, was chatting with the gals waiting on the Jackson Street corner for a few precious, coveted minutes before we had to head into school for the contemplative grind.

At Town School, we all knew we were on the same, insulated, world class, academic team. We played handball, war ball, kickball, and baseball on the school roof when we were not discussing and writing about the classics. Yet, some of us were precocious enough to realize that we are all individual loners in the wider world.

Thus, my penultimate song, Old School Groovin’, is like a glory days reminiscing of diverted potential I ingratiated within myself as a prep school superstar, 25 years before I would write the upcoming classic, The Ascent of a Barbarious Court Squatter, on my spin of Persona Theory and the Competitive Sports Mindset to tackle adversity internally, regardless of external thwarts or realities. (Please check out my detailed Book Proposal, subscription blog, merchandise, Tip Jars to keep on rocking and writing on, and New Wave/Rock/Pop Music at johnroyceholtz.com) In this case, the issue to be resolved in the present moment is living the less than voluntary, ascetic life while wishing fervently that I may become a hopeful romantic. In The Ascent…, I convince myself and others how to steamroll gravity-enhanced obstacles without present consummation…No one; Mental…

Thus, in Old School Groovin’, before the keyboards kick in, the mesmerizing guitars and lyrics holler, “First of the true, slow jams. I am reminded of myself (because of my dancing partner’s standing, close-knit embracing of me, like a stray cat who wishes to enter a lighted house!)….Not merely an Alter-Ego…In Scotland Yard’s Fog…(Sometimes I am a glutton for punishment…) All of the pharmaceutical companies—You turn my sensational brain to Mush….Just because I am a Worry Wart, who gives too much of a darn what You think…Yesterday was full of Nostalgia…Today I have forgotten my purpose…Today I don’t realize that I have a pulse…A blank slate….And less than Optimal Yield…A meaningful experience….” With the exception of three lines, the lyrics are mostly, heavily despondent…

In Old School Groovin’, the melancholiness of the lyrics are transcended by the hope-imbibed music of crashing Electric Guitars and well-rounded synths…Reminiscent of Morissey’s ostensible suffering in the disappointed, melodious crooning of much of his solo career, as well as with The Smiths.

Everything even in my peripheral sphere of perception is now diverted and disjointed because my Ego’s healthy longing for a woman my age is not in longstanding actualization….I am devoid; bereft of the physical manifestation of my better half; And, this is my own fault for non-feasance….This has adversely effected the tipping point where the Unhealthy Ego, part of my shadow, has detrimentally skewed my perception of a normal, healthy reality….

I never land the keeper lady so I prop myself up hap-hazardly with the same inflatable bullshit that I thrust upon my tennis opponents (and myself) to tremendous, albeit, imperfect avail!…I am in on my own vulnerabilities and I opt to continually bypass them instead of climbing to higher ground of what it truly means to be an enlightened human being with full gamut of emotional scope… Please enjoy the tune responsibly without turning off; it contains significant wisdom!

Yet, the fact that I even endeavor to compose the nostalgic song signifies that to a certain extent, I am replete within my own self…I pray and play for the theatre—against my complacent judgment…I do not care what anyone else thinks, including my real self, unless warranted. I do not pay absolute attention to machines—I am no longer one of them on the tennis nor composition court…F the machines! I do not care even if I am hated….But, I thankfully do care if I am loved…This reminds me of one of my other recent songs that poses a hypothetical question, “Will you!”

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