I would like to thank you all so much for your interest in Jason.
It is very comforting to me to know how much you all still care.
As you can imagine, life
is not "normal", (although I guess it never really has been with Jason
as a son) and things that take a week or a month, sometimes take years. That
is depressing, especially for someone like Jason, who has a mind that is quick
and snappy and a body that can’t move.
Jason has written an article. These are his words. He describes his experience of going to the hospital, being in intensive
care, and getting a tracheotomy
and gastrostomy, or as he would describe, "two shiny new holes in my body." His
health has stayed pretty constant since that article was written.
As far as the music goes, Warner Brothers Records released his album, "Perspective" in
2001. Shrapnel
Records released Jason’s "jams" too.
These are pieces of music Jason has recorded throughout his life. They are improvisations,
studies for compositions, pieces that became songs, even some singing
and playing when Jason and Ehren (his brother) secretly went to Gary’s
(their father) art studio when they were 8 and 5 and recorded themselves playing
and singing Bob Dylan songs.
Jason
works on the computer, he looks forward to translating
the
music
in his head to actual notes and melodies. He is looking
forward to writing a book and getting his feelings out.
I hope to
help him on this project.
We would like to share some photos
of Jason’s life,
including his early family life, the Cacophony years and
some more recent photos taken.
You may notice
artwork throughout this website. It shows up on Jason's CDs, is sometimes
in the background of photos, and even appears on his clothes.
This art was created
by Gary Becker, who
was Jason’s first instructor, a great influence
and a wonderful inspiration to Jason as an example of an artist who worked
on his
craft relentlessly, lovingly, with discipline every day and still had time
to support his family and allow me to stay home with my kids. Examples of
Gary’sart can
be found on his his page.
Thanks
again for your interest and support and please join the message
board, and contact us through Jason's contact
page.
We will try to keep you all informed, up-to-date and
answer any
questions we can.
Our
son was born almost knowing what he wanted to do early in life;
be a
guitar player.
He worked constantly and loved it. He made a demo
tape and a record producer was interested. He graduated from
high school early to make his first album at the age of 17.
He was
great; he was
part of a duo guitar team with a band called "Cacophony." He
played along side of another great guitarist named Marty Friedman.
They
made three albums together. I was so lucky to witness them playing
together. They are both masters of the guitar and they
knew what
they wanted from their music. They had a great deal of respect
for each
other; they will love each other forever. I got to witness their
humor and their hearts; in my mind, that is what becomes their
music.
After "Cacophony" and a classic guitar solo album called "Perpetual
Burn," Jason heard that David Lee Roth was looking for a guitarist.
He sent a tape. They called. He auditioned and was chosen as the next
guitarist for David Lee Roth. A week later he was diagnosed with ALS.
As our family and friends collapsed in grief and shock, Jason went
to practice and prepared for an album which was called "A Little
Ain’t Enough."
By
that time, we had managed to stop crying and hiding our heads
under our pillows in utter heartbreak and misery. Jason was determined
to do this project and we would do anything we could to help
him,
of course.
Gary quit his job and moved in with Jason in Glendale. I stayed
home with Ehren, who was a junior in high school. I worked. Ehren
and
I got hooked on "Star Trek: The Next Generation". I
made frequent trips to see Jason and Gary, and Jason always called
with
new guitar
parts for me to hear. I would have miserable, sad days, and when
I checked in at night, by phone, find out that Jason had a great
day.
"Perspective" was
long in the making. Technically, it took five years from beginning
to end, but it had been simmering in Jason longer
than that. He had bits and pieces of melodies in his head. His
songs would happen in different ways. Some came out all at once.
I remember
hearing, over the phone, the song that became "Blue". It
was so beautiful. Jason was alone in his hotel room in Vancouver (recording "A
Little Ain’t Enough") and he started improvising and that’s
what came out. His songs always touch me so deeply because I can hear
his heart in his music. I have heard that from so many people. It is
true. Jason’s heart is in his music. "Rain" came out
of him at a friend’s house on a rainy day.
I am fascinated by how Jason sometimes builds songs. He has one tiny
idea and adds layer upon layer to that. He reminds me of Bobby McFerrin
in that way. You will hear something very intricate and beautiful,
and as he peels the layers away and brings them back, you realize that
the tiny idea all alone is just as beautiful as the whole, finished
piece. He is complex and he is simple; in music and in life.
After
several months of a pesky limp, Jason promised to get it checked
out. We
watched him walk to get on the plane he was taking to Los
Angeles to audition for David Lee Roth’s band. We worried.
He went to the doctor and called us with the information that he
was going to be taking more tests. We said, "well, what is it?
A pinched nerve from too-tight jeans? A pulled hamstring? Should
you use hot packs, cold packs?" His response was, "oh,
they said the worst it could be is ALS", very matter-of-factly.
We said, "ALS?!! What’s that? Lou Gehrig’s disease?
That’s fatal! No way! How dare they tell you that. That’s
ridiculous!" He agreed, but was going to take the tests the
next week. He was staying with my dad at the time, practicing with
David Lee Roth’s band, and loving it. The doctor trips were
an annoyance, to say the least. I went to Los Angeles to be with
him for the tests.
By that time, I was worried, scared and angry. We both tried to be
positive, but at breakfast before the tests, Jason looked at me and
said, "God, what if?" My thought exactly. We went through
the tests. They took tons of his blood, checking for every possibility.
They hooked him up to things, prodded, took spinal fluid, MRI’s,
cut chunks of muscle out of his leg. The pain of seeing your son
go through something like that is beyond belief. It was almost like
a Felini movie, waiting for Jason to come out of the submarine-like
machine that he had to go into and stay perfectly still for an hour.
It was one of the first MRI machines and was parked in a trailer
way out in the back of the hospital parking lot. The "waiting
room" was a bench outside. It was cold and gray and damp and
I sat on the bench crying, trying to summon up strength for when
Jason was done. A woman passing by asked me what was wrong. I said, "they
think my son might have ALS." She gave me a few encouraging
words and left. Jason finished and said we had to hurry because he
didn’t want to be late for practice. We drove back to my dad’s
house; he got his guitar together and took off for practice. As I
watched him go, I broke down. I didn’t know how he was keeping
it all together, but I wasn’t. Every time he left, I broke
down.
When
the doctor called us both in for the results of all the tests, he
said, "we have come to the conclusion that Jason has ALS,
or Lou Gehrig’s disease. It’s a neuromuscular disease,
unfortunately we don’t have a cure, but there are some things
that we are working on, and the normal life span is two to five years,
but that can vary with different people." Jason’s immediate
response was, can I still play? Go on tour? The doctor told him he
should continue to live his life as he always has and he will know
himself when he can’t do something anymore; there is plenty
of warning. I took the opportunity to let the doctor know who he
was dealing with here. As I clutched Jason’s knee, I said, "Jason
has already done some pretty amazing things. He has will and determination
made of iron and can play the guitar better than anyone I’ve
ever heard, so he can probably get through this one." The doctor
said he was glad Jason had me. Jason smiled. We asked if Jason’s
diet could make a difference. No, that’s not it, said the doctor.
It’s not diet or vitamins. Just keep living your life and you
will know when you have to slow down or stop. And he had other patients
waiting, so we left and Jason went to practice and I cried.
There
were many more visits with experts, many more tests and experiments.
Gary and I spent Jason’s 21st birthday with him in his apartment
in Glendale. He wanted to go out with Marty and jam and party, but
he had to get up early the next morning, go to the hospital and take
a drug called Interferon. It was supposed to help. It only made Jason
get a high fever and feel like he had a bad case of the flu for a
day or two. After a couple of those shots, he decided not to do that
anymore. He began to realize that the doctors and hospitals had little
to offer, at this point, except the chance for Jason to become a
guinea pig. He started to feel like he needed something else. He
continued to work, got into healthier foods and vitamins and juices.
We all tried to think of alternative things. We tried everything
from aroma therapy, chiropractors, every kind of body work out there,
Chinese herbs, everything there is out there to try, Jason has tried.
In
1989, Gary had an art exhibit at San Francisco State University.
He
said this about the show:
"In
the old ways animals were magical beings. They were personified
in myth and teaching and exalted on cave walls. Their
spirits were evoked with masks in ceremonies of ritual and worship.
Now animals
are in conflict with our modern needs. We are in danger of losing
not just their physical presence but their contributions to the myths
of Earth. They
represent mind and spirit, swift and unfettered by fence or chain,
symbol of what we may lose in ourselves as we satisfy
our immediate needs at the expense of our higher nature. With my
art, I remind myself and other dwellers in the canyons of steel and
glass of the importance of bringing some of the past with us into
our high-tech future."
When
Jason was beginning to be well-known, guitar companies sent him
guitars all the time. He helped with the design concept, shape,
etc., and he wanted Gary to do a painting on a guitar body that
came.
This is that painting. The guitar never went back. It hangs in
our room now.
Jason
lived in a Glendale condominium while he was preparing for the
album, "A Little Ain’t Enough." Gary moved in
with him to be there for him. One of the first things Gary did
was buy a tablet to create art. Not only does he need to do this
for
his own sanity, he can’t stand blank walls, which Jason had
lots of. Since Gary’s art always reflects what is going on
in his life, the fruit, fish, vegetables, etc., was what Gary was
involved with because Jason’s diet had become very healthy.
Lisa Roth (David Lee Roth’s sister) is a nutritionist and
helped Jason plan his diet. Gary gave her the lute-shaped prisma
color drawing. These
are two prisma color drawings created at that time to help cover
all those blank walls.