No better manner exists in breaking loose Texas traditions that tie youth cultures into knots. People wanted to hear music in Austin – they still do. When that happened, in early bands playing skating rinks and high school gymnasiums, Freeman set himself free.Īn air of questioning dynamics sounded in his beautiful chords and cosmic sounds as he bore down on switchblade leads of ominous reckoning. Never one known to cloud the atmosphere with speaking, the young stringer discovered he could use the telepathics of notes played by his hands and transplant them directly into the souls of his listeners.Ĭonsider that the perfect solution for the teenager, then, because what he couldn’t always say, he could employ the ozone to convey. Yet give a guitarist, saxophonist, or pianist an instrument and there runs a direct line from one heart to another. Maybe that’s because language takes up a lot of room and isn’t always accurate in expressing the deepest feelings. Most of the great ones don’t need a lot of words. When his mother bought him a slightly banged up Strat in a pawn shop, Denny Freeman – like so many before him – knew he'd found a friend for life. military hospital but as Texan as anyone who ever called the Lone Star state home, growing up in the Dallas area gravitated him toward the guitar the moment he heard the early blues and rock & roll records oozing through the radio waves. The city acted as a magnet for those six-stringers seeking space to unpack their axe and take to the streets looking for a friendly ear. Thousands and thousands of guitarists have shred in Austin since the early wave hit in the Sixties. Freeman continually explored how to make sound build a blanket of never-ending reverberations for all who had wanted to find the nexus of musical nirvana.
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