Eric Reitz hails from Reading, Pennsylvania, a paradoxical place; though a suburb of Philadelphia, it neighbors Lancaster County—Amish country. Culture clash is inevitable. Eric wearily studied piano as a boy, but he longed for the guitar—its shape, its allure, its legacy. Eric’s parents stipulated: first learn “The Entertainer”on keys, and the guitar would follow. Even this he couldn’t manage.
Undeterred, Eric convinced his parents to rent him a guitar, an axe yanked from the pages of a heavy metal magazine. Not quite the tool he’d seen in the hands of idols like Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. Eric soon returned that ol’ lightning bolt to the rental shop. The musical muse had been quieted.
A few years older, wiser, and more motivated, Eric picked up his older brother's acoustic guitar and taught himself chords and progressions. Intrigued, Eric bought his own acoustic. He also discovered an insistent but unpolished urge to sing.
Undeterred, Eric convinced his parents to rent him a guitar, an axe yanked from the pages of a heavy metal magazine. Not quite the tool he’d seen in the hands of idols like Bob Dylan and Van Morrison. Eric soon returned that ol’ lightning bolt to the rental shop. The musical muse had been quieted.
A few years older, wiser, and more motivated, Eric picked up his older brother's acoustic guitar and taught himself chords and progressions. Intrigued, Eric bought his own acoustic. He also discovered an insistent but unpolished urge to sing.
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