One of John McBroom’s first memories is of his dad dancing around the living room with John in his arms, listening to his dad’s favorite jazz. Another is seeing a strolling jazz guitarist at one of his parent’s parties and being allowed to strum it. There’s a picture to back it up, though John is unsure if the picture is the memory or if he does remember the Di Angelico New Yorker. John is the youngest of five kids, and much to their chagrin, he had access to most of his sibling’s records, of which he listened to them all from the Kingston Trio to the Grateful Dead. With the plethora of singles, the Beatles were his first musical true love. Then came Elton John, Stevie Wonder, and a multitude of anything his siblings would let him touch that sounded good to John’s ear. But, it was when he heard Whole Lotta Love on Led Zeppelin II at eight years old that he was hooked to the sound of the guitar. 

At twelve, John’s parents got the upgrade from HiFi to Stereo, and it changed everything. His sister Liz just got Steely Dan’s Aja, Jon Luc Ponty’s Enigmatic Ocean, and Grateful Dead’s Terrapin Station, and with stereo headphones it was like exploring a new sonic world where there were no limits. John spent hours listening to whatever was available. Some of his dad’s jazz collection was inspiring to John as well, including Erroll Garner who stood out as one of the most versed improvisors, able to call and respond, reacting to anything from the drummer’s ride cymbal to the melody of the pop tune of the day. John learned all music was connected, and while giving music a genre made it easier to classify, in the end the organization was only a means to sell a product.

Around the same time, John’s brother Steve helped to open and run a new music venue in Blacksburg, called 117 South Main in the early to mid ‘70s. While John wasn’t supposed to be there, he was able to witness a few shows, officially making music “the coolest” in John’s mind. His brother would also sneak John into clubs when he was kid to see bands like Stillwater and Sea Level, which made a mark to last a lifetime, sparking a fevered curiosity to explore. By that time, John had decided he wanted to learn about music. Noticing this curiosity, his mother contacted the woman who had given all his siblings piano lessons, Mrs. Beasley. She asked my mother one question before declining. “Boy or a girl?” John’s sister was quite accomplished at the piano, but his brothers gave a different impression altogether. 

Still interested in learning, John wanted to play trumpet in the fifth grade, but because he was big for his age, the school thought he should try saxophone. It was a tragic mistake. John couldn’t make the same sound twice, regardless of how hard he tried. John’s teacher told him in class one day, “You should find a sport you can excel at, because music just isn’t your thing.” Later that night, when recounting the story to his folks, his dad said, “You do sound like a dying cow.” Unfortunately, truth was truth and he dropped the pursuit of playing saxophone, but he did not drop the pursuit of making music. The next year, John began playing violin, and with strings, everything worked out much better. His instructor, Joe Corne was an amazing mentor who reminded John again of the fact he learned early on, that music had no limits. It just depended on how you heard the world, or more so, how you listened to it.

John’s older brother, Swede was also a musician, but because of the age difference, Swede was more of a cool uncle than an older brother to John. Back in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s Swede was playing guitar, percussion and fiddle in a zydeco band in Scotland. He would travel with a guitar when he would come to visit and would often let John play it. Then one time he didn’t. Early on in that particular visit, Swede took John down to Southern Pawn in downtown Roanoke where Swede taught him the fine art of haggling. Long story short, Swede got a $1000 guitar for $400, along with a hard-shell case. The rest of the visit Swede would let John play it as much as he wanted. But when Swede went back to Scotland, he put it on the top shelf of their dad’s old closet and forbade John to touch the guitar while he was gone. At that time, Swede was big to John, and maybe a little intimidating. But being several hours away, John figured he would know if Swede was coming into town and would have time to put the guitar back. No such luck. Sadly, their uncle passed away, and Swede came back unexpectedly for the service.