My earliest memories revolve around the kitchen radio and the "record player" in the living room (we're talkin' early 60s). We all tuned in 24/7 to popular music. I recall watching mom float about the kitchen as intriguing words and sounds emanated from that little box on the 'fridge.

Settled in his chair with a tall Schlitz, Dad would groove on Roger Miller or Johnny Cash when Mom wasn't spinning the latest 33rpm by Andy Williams or Engelbert Humperdinck. Together they'd sing along with Mitch. They shared a fervent passion for music, and the sound of singing was common in our home.

As I adolesced, the seventies blossomed into a musical garden - Motown, Philly soul, Village folk, San Francisco psychedelia, British invasion, all flavors of bubblegum, magical one-hit wonders and mystical FM album sides - all had an incalculable impact.

My massive component stereo system (I still have one, love 'em) was like a secret portal into another dimension. Here's a constantly evolving compendium of talent, loosely divided into two groups:

i n f l u e n t i a l   g u i t a r i s t s

e s s e n t i a l   s o n g w r i t e r s