My Fathers Music, My First Teacher--Growing Up with Merlin

When I look back, I think music was always part of me because it was always part of my dad. Richard Gilks was a multitalented musician—he sang, played guitar, and could make just about any instrument sing. But I think the piano was where he truly lived. It was the instrument he related to most, the place where a quiet man poured out his emotions.

I think about the early 1970s, when his band Merlin rehearsed in our basement. Their medieval-inspired rock shook the walls of our house in Huntington, New York. Creative people were always coming and going, but to me it was just home. I even remember falling asleep inside the drummer’s kick drum while they were playing—sure, it was because my mom, who was a nurse was working at the time, and I was afraid to be upstairs alone. But I was welcomed by the entire band and felt very at home when I saw that pillow in the kick drum and fell into a deep, safe sleep.

I think our house was never still. Musicians were always coming and going, carrying their instruments and their stories with them. There was always a piano, waiting for me to tinker on it. And my dad had this beautiful wooden bass recorder that fascinated me. I’d pick it up and try to teach myself little songs, not realizing at the time that I was chasing the same spark he carried. I still have that recorder.

Later, when we moved to California, my dad shifted his focus to writing instrumental music for television and film. The house kept a steady flow of creativity then, with old and new musical family coming and going. My dad set up his studio in the living room and showed me how to hit the red record button for him on his reel to reel. I learned how to hit the button, back onto the couch and wait quietly until he gave me the signal to hit it again to stop the recording. His writing took us out of the house as well, with me hanging out at Eldorado Studio on Vine in Hollywood, while he did recording sessions with so many musicians, including many from our days in NY. I think that move taught me something important: music doesn’t have to stay in one form. It can grow, stretch, and reinvent itself—just like he did.

Looking back now, I think those days in the basement, at the piano, or holding that recorder weren’t just my introduction to music. They were the foundation of how I came to live inside of it. My dad passed away in 2015, and he had been sick, not playing music for a long, long time before that. The older I get, the more I love music. And my heart goes out to him more and more. I'm 57 now, and he was only 67 when he died. It makes me more and more grateful every day just to be able to play my guitar, even with my "old lady" hands. They aint what they used to be, lol! But I'm still playing, and I couldn't love it any more than I do.

Website: HOME | rgmusic

Youtube: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_kg4eDu7ZeMc8o74FYe79RmqsWCgwTziOU&si=caH5YenE-ifdaahg