How did I ever consider myself a complete musician when all I did was play the guitar?
No stage presence...see any movement? Ha, no.
Sing? ...um, no.
All I did was play the guitar.
And I had the gall to laugh at those who did more than just play their instrument.
They were covering for their lack of virtuosity on the instrument by adding fluff.
I mean, Bruce is not a guitarist. Neither is Bob Zimmerman.
[rolling my eyes]
Funny how in retrospect you see how foolish you had been. Those with awareness to catch it while it is occurring - a special genius.
The soul has many outlets. For a musician it can be the execution of a piece, or the intricacy of the piece or the lyrics may touch you. The rhythm - just the drum line. Anything.
If you can combine outlets, the effect is extraordinary. Mythical, magical.
By adding to my repertoire, I have grown. Magic.
And it is a catching disease. It is infectious to those around you.
So I determined to start singing as well as play.
What changed me was finding that combination turn on...completely by accident. A chance playing backup when the urge to sing overwhelmed me. Swaying about the stage, singing, playing. Heaven upon Earth.
The older I get, the less I worry about these urges, I just acquiesce to them.
Surrender to myself.
The song, 'Gloria,' is easy enough, and what possessed me to sing, I couldn't say.
I was just enjoying myself with the rest of the band. They were playing well. It was sounding good.
So I moved up to the mic in a typical George Harrison sharing the mic with Paul pose. Forty five degrees and a touch behind. Yes, it also surprised the other guitarist. But it worked.
Like when I quit smoking cigarettes in 1987, is sounds harder than it turned out.
There is an element of patting your head while rubbing your stomach. But how hard was that?
A little practice and you are doing it.
What will I next take up?
Freedom, lack of boundaries is a very exciting thing.
To Earth Day - I vividly remember the day in high school, forty years ago...did I just say that?
We were given complete freedom to run the day - curriculum was in the hands of the student population for the day. To discuss what Earth Day meant and how we'd follow it along.
I sat in a room in which we talked of politics and the words new to us, ecosystems & ecology.
After we finished a friend took a Frank Zappa album and played Peaches En Regalia.
(Remember those incredibly horrid "portable" record players that were de rigueur in every high school?)
For the last forty years I have played that song in one form or another as a remembrance.
Ah Frank, you left too soon.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
San Dimas School for the Performing Arts
I'm asleep. It's barely 8 am. My cell rings.
"Okay Joey, I'll be there soon."
"It's Jerry."
Oh.
I rub my eyes and sit up in bed. I had not laid down until after two am the night before.
"What's up, Jerry?"
"I've got a gig at Holy Name of Mary - their annual fair. Call Shotgun and meet me at the park, we have a gig."
He goes on to explain that I can expect a lack of payment. What's new?
"But I'll take care of you."
Many a virtuous girl rued the day she heard that one.
I knew what I was in for.
That's a shot of the stage, Belle - my guitar is at the nose of that truck in the background.
That truck carried the accumulated equipment of Nomad. A five piece band that carried more stuff than Patton and his army. The PA was HUGE. You can see a small pedestal mounted speaker at the extreme right with a subwoofer below it. There was a matching one on the other side. There is one below Belle as well as two more between her and the outside speakers - and a matching set off camera to the left.. That was JUST the Public Address system.
In the words of Richard Pryor - "...is you CRAZY?!"
I mean, thank you Nomad for all that neat stuff that you allowed our band to use, but that is just far too much to carry. Average age of the band members was fifty two. The drummer, who owned the truck, was on speed - or one too many energy drinks. Three anvil cases packed - one was the PA, one was the drum kit and one was cabling.
In attendance there were about five hundred people. Serious rides and vendors hawking their wares. A large family carnival. An ATM machine at each planned intersection. This was no mean little fair.
Still, it was too much equipment.
If you squint and look directly below the door mirror of the truck, you'll see my amp. Ayep, that tiny little cube.
I set the volume at five and was more than loud enough.
We played our set - one hour...no biggie. And I had a lot of fun doing it. Playing with Jerry is a perpetual Bar Mitzvah - I've played 'Tiny Bubbles,' enough times to last me for a long, long while.
Anyway - so much for my little rant about having too many material goods. (And no roadies - balance is everything)
Nomad was a good collection of musicians - couldn't hear the bass player at all until they took a break and I let him know - turns out the drummer forgot to plug Marcus in.
They successfully used the phalanx of gear to bulldoze a path through everyone.
When the people have to move back from the first row or two, you should take note - turn the volume down.
After Nomad does a set, they take a break at which point the San Dimas School for the Performing Arts took to the area just in front of the stage.
First a medley of Patriotic tunes. Then a Disney onslaught.
Children (one boy and eleven girls - smart kid :) ranging from six through twelve performed.
They rocked.
They were better than either band. Forget the fact that the audience was mainly parents clapping for their darlings...these kids either had talent or tons of heart.
I loved every minute of it. Every trite Gershwin move and number. Every appeal to God, Mom and Apple Pie (Oh yeah, this is a Catholic Church running the show). I loved it.
The children were not jaded nor cynical - they were performing and they loved it!
Even when one of the seconds muffed a line (she and her partner giggled) it was the pure joy that struck me.
I wonder how many of them will go on to careers in show business?
I'll be rooting for every single one of them!
"Okay Joey, I'll be there soon."
"It's Jerry."
Oh.
I rub my eyes and sit up in bed. I had not laid down until after two am the night before.
"What's up, Jerry?"
"I've got a gig at Holy Name of Mary - their annual fair. Call Shotgun and meet me at the park, we have a gig."
He goes on to explain that I can expect a lack of payment. What's new?
"But I'll take care of you."
Many a virtuous girl rued the day she heard that one.
I knew what I was in for.
That's a shot of the stage, Belle - my guitar is at the nose of that truck in the background.
That truck carried the accumulated equipment of Nomad. A five piece band that carried more stuff than Patton and his army. The PA was HUGE. You can see a small pedestal mounted speaker at the extreme right with a subwoofer below it. There was a matching one on the other side. There is one below Belle as well as two more between her and the outside speakers - and a matching set off camera to the left.. That was JUST the Public Address system.
In the words of Richard Pryor - "...is you CRAZY?!"
I mean, thank you Nomad for all that neat stuff that you allowed our band to use, but that is just far too much to carry. Average age of the band members was fifty two. The drummer, who owned the truck, was on speed - or one too many energy drinks. Three anvil cases packed - one was the PA, one was the drum kit and one was cabling.
In attendance there were about five hundred people. Serious rides and vendors hawking their wares. A large family carnival. An ATM machine at each planned intersection. This was no mean little fair.
Still, it was too much equipment.
If you squint and look directly below the door mirror of the truck, you'll see my amp. Ayep, that tiny little cube.
I set the volume at five and was more than loud enough.
We played our set - one hour...no biggie. And I had a lot of fun doing it. Playing with Jerry is a perpetual Bar Mitzvah - I've played 'Tiny Bubbles,' enough times to last me for a long, long while.
Anyway - so much for my little rant about having too many material goods. (And no roadies - balance is everything)
Nomad was a good collection of musicians - couldn't hear the bass player at all until they took a break and I let him know - turns out the drummer forgot to plug Marcus in.
They successfully used the phalanx of gear to bulldoze a path through everyone.
When the people have to move back from the first row or two, you should take note - turn the volume down.
After Nomad does a set, they take a break at which point the San Dimas School for the Performing Arts took to the area just in front of the stage.
First a medley of Patriotic tunes. Then a Disney onslaught.
Children (one boy and eleven girls - smart kid :) ranging from six through twelve performed.
They rocked.
They were better than either band. Forget the fact that the audience was mainly parents clapping for their darlings...these kids either had talent or tons of heart.
I loved every minute of it. Every trite Gershwin move and number. Every appeal to God, Mom and Apple Pie (Oh yeah, this is a Catholic Church running the show). I loved it.
The children were not jaded nor cynical - they were performing and they loved it!
Even when one of the seconds muffed a line (she and her partner giggled) it was the pure joy that struck me.
I wonder how many of them will go on to careers in show business?
I'll be rooting for every single one of them!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Elusive Tone
Clapton has his 'woman tone.'
Page has his 'watery tone.'
The rest of us chase tone as if it were the Holy Grail.
Some of the wiser people understand it is the fingers and not the equipment that makes the tone.
And yet, we continue chasing, hunting, striving for that perfect tone.
We buy tube amps or stomp boxes all in pursuit of our ideal sound.
Last night I had a rehearsal and I brought my Strat rather than the Gibson.
I realized I had the same effects running on my pedal board, but it sounded like a Strat, not at all like my Gibson.
The SG has a creamy, very thick tonal palette.
The Strat has a very bright, chiming sound.
So even though the pedal board chain is the same, the sound is very different and distinct.
And yet, it still sounded like me.
What garners kudos is the skill of the person playing.
Other guitarists have asked me how I get my tone - like magicians sharing secrets.
I usually hand them my guitar as a reply.
More often than not, after noodling around for a bit they hand it back to me puzzled, thoroughly unsatisfied.
"But, how do you get that tone, man?"
How do I explain it?
It is how you play, how your fingers caress the strings. How you coax nuance from yourself, not your equipment.
I can use a tube amp or a solid state amp - doesn't matter. (Heresy!)
So I ask them, "Do you dance?"
Blank stares.
I am asking if they have a soul.
Magic is Zen-like.
We can practice to polish technique. But magic is not a practiced skill.
True magic is a part of you. Maybe you mother sang to you as a child. Maybe you went to shows and found something very special. However it happened, the infusion of love and joy at such a simple thing as the movement of the bodies on stage. For me, a daily dose of a favorite piece will light that fire.
It is sad to think that most musicians are seeking something they will never find.
When you stop looking for it, it may indeed, come to you.
This is also why we must continue to grow and explore other musicians.
Without that growth our own magic will go silent.
Hmmm, so perhaps magic is something we practice - just not on our chosen instrument, but rather in our hearts.
Page has his 'watery tone.'
The rest of us chase tone as if it were the Holy Grail.
Some of the wiser people understand it is the fingers and not the equipment that makes the tone.
And yet, we continue chasing, hunting, striving for that perfect tone.
We buy tube amps or stomp boxes all in pursuit of our ideal sound.
Last night I had a rehearsal and I brought my Strat rather than the Gibson.
I realized I had the same effects running on my pedal board, but it sounded like a Strat, not at all like my Gibson.
The SG has a creamy, very thick tonal palette.
The Strat has a very bright, chiming sound.
So even though the pedal board chain is the same, the sound is very different and distinct.
And yet, it still sounded like me.
What garners kudos is the skill of the person playing.
Other guitarists have asked me how I get my tone - like magicians sharing secrets.
I usually hand them my guitar as a reply.
More often than not, after noodling around for a bit they hand it back to me puzzled, thoroughly unsatisfied.
"But, how do you get that tone, man?"
How do I explain it?
It is how you play, how your fingers caress the strings. How you coax nuance from yourself, not your equipment.
I can use a tube amp or a solid state amp - doesn't matter. (Heresy!)
So I ask them, "Do you dance?"
Blank stares.
I am asking if they have a soul.
Magic is Zen-like.
We can practice to polish technique. But magic is not a practiced skill.
True magic is a part of you. Maybe you mother sang to you as a child. Maybe you went to shows and found something very special. However it happened, the infusion of love and joy at such a simple thing as the movement of the bodies on stage. For me, a daily dose of a favorite piece will light that fire.
It is sad to think that most musicians are seeking something they will never find.
When you stop looking for it, it may indeed, come to you.
This is also why we must continue to grow and explore other musicians.
Without that growth our own magic will go silent.
Hmmm, so perhaps magic is something we practice - just not on our chosen instrument, but rather in our hearts.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
George Harrison Had a Birthday Today
Shotgun had been bugging me for weeks prior to today. Truth be told, I was really not in the mood to play.
The week had not been the best it might have been.
I went into LA to do my bi-weekly larder run and grab a book at a favorite book store.
I found some nice cheese and a book. Had a nice lunch and then headed back to Pomona. I decided to grab a nap. More than anything I figured I would just sleep though Shotguns call. Sweet oblivion.
Like I said, I was not in the mood.
I awoke when my back could take no more. A quick shower, then sat down to stare at the computer - waste more time. The phone rings.
"You ready?"
I guess so.
I have learned that even if the night promises to be a complete waste of time, it still is better than sitting and listening to my drunken monkey - the schmuck.
So I packed my grade 'A' gear and followed Shotgun to George Harrison's.
My expectations were low. Flags from Texas and the Confederacy hung in front of the stage.
About forty to fifty guests were in attendance.
First order of business was eating. A BBQ was in full swing and we made good use of the offerings.
The first thing about musicians in general are huge egos.
So, off the bat no one likes anyone. Our first muttered line is, "I could have played that better."
A lot of polite head nodding and muttered, "Heyas."
We set up.
Lineup:
Nine Guitarists
Three Bassists
Four Drummers
Three vocalists
One lone Saxophone
Down By The River
Sweet Home Alabama
Peaches En Regalia
Prettier Girls
Hey Joe - I sang!
Jersey Girl
Black Magic Woman
Goodbye Girl - I sang again!
On and on we went.
When you are young, your thoughts are of standing out. Of showing off.
Everyone brought these HUGE amps and rigs. Hundred watt heads with cabinets that were filled with speakers.
I bought my Pro Junior - a fifteen watt amp with one ten inch speaker. A tiny little thing. No ego here. Easy to carry.
It looked as though the dick swaggering was going to be huge.
I am a damned good guitar player.
But the truth I have learned and what I love is a tight band. Airplane tight - Hot Tuna tight - Poco tight.
So, tonight I was playing to fit in and not lead.
God, I was good.
No, I mean it!
I was rocking. It's rare when you think you are playing well, after all we are our own worst critics.
I was the epitome of a good band member. I played back up for everyone...the bottom was solid.
Several times I got the nod to solo and I did. I am not shy.
But more often than not I was just sitting and appreciating what the others brought to the table.
I was dancing. I was singing.
Pete the guitarist, Frank the bass player, Mark the Sax all asked for my number.
Heaven!
To have my peers tell me I rocked.
"Hey man, you played what I wanted to hear."
"You play like John Lennon." - One of the greatest unappreciated rhythm guitarists ever.
"You blend so well."
It wasn't so much the dancing crowd. Or applause.
It was my fellow band mates telling me that 'I done good.'
We started at about five pm and it wasn't until eleven that I was breaking down my gear.
They should bottle this high and sell it. It far surpasses any illegal smoke, snorted, or injected substance.
Cloud Nine!
"Can you come on July Fourth?"
Being asked to the dance is the greatest compliment one can receive.
Oh, I'll be there.
The week had not been the best it might have been.
I went into LA to do my bi-weekly larder run and grab a book at a favorite book store.
I found some nice cheese and a book. Had a nice lunch and then headed back to Pomona. I decided to grab a nap. More than anything I figured I would just sleep though Shotguns call. Sweet oblivion.
Like I said, I was not in the mood.
I awoke when my back could take no more. A quick shower, then sat down to stare at the computer - waste more time. The phone rings.
"You ready?"
I guess so.
I have learned that even if the night promises to be a complete waste of time, it still is better than sitting and listening to my drunken monkey - the schmuck.
So I packed my grade 'A' gear and followed Shotgun to George Harrison's.
My expectations were low. Flags from Texas and the Confederacy hung in front of the stage.
About forty to fifty guests were in attendance.
First order of business was eating. A BBQ was in full swing and we made good use of the offerings.
The first thing about musicians in general are huge egos.
So, off the bat no one likes anyone. Our first muttered line is, "I could have played that better."
A lot of polite head nodding and muttered, "Heyas."
We set up.
Lineup:
Nine Guitarists
Three Bassists
Four Drummers
Three vocalists
One lone Saxophone
Down By The River
Sweet Home Alabama
Peaches En Regalia
Prettier Girls
Hey Joe - I sang!
Jersey Girl
Black Magic Woman
Goodbye Girl - I sang again!
On and on we went.
When you are young, your thoughts are of standing out. Of showing off.
Everyone brought these HUGE amps and rigs. Hundred watt heads with cabinets that were filled with speakers.
I bought my Pro Junior - a fifteen watt amp with one ten inch speaker. A tiny little thing. No ego here. Easy to carry.
It looked as though the dick swaggering was going to be huge.
I am a damned good guitar player.
But the truth I have learned and what I love is a tight band. Airplane tight - Hot Tuna tight - Poco tight.
So, tonight I was playing to fit in and not lead.
God, I was good.
No, I mean it!
I was rocking. It's rare when you think you are playing well, after all we are our own worst critics.
I was the epitome of a good band member. I played back up for everyone...the bottom was solid.
Several times I got the nod to solo and I did. I am not shy.
But more often than not I was just sitting and appreciating what the others brought to the table.
I was dancing. I was singing.
Pete the guitarist, Frank the bass player, Mark the Sax all asked for my number.
Heaven!
To have my peers tell me I rocked.
"Hey man, you played what I wanted to hear."
"You play like John Lennon." - One of the greatest unappreciated rhythm guitarists ever.
"You blend so well."
It wasn't so much the dancing crowd. Or applause.
It was my fellow band mates telling me that 'I done good.'
We started at about five pm and it wasn't until eleven that I was breaking down my gear.
They should bottle this high and sell it. It far surpasses any illegal smoke, snorted, or injected substance.
Cloud Nine!
"Can you come on July Fourth?"
Being asked to the dance is the greatest compliment one can receive.
Oh, I'll be there.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
New Finds...Well, For Me, Anyway.
Laura Marling
Frightened Rabbit
Laura Marling has a voice that is so sweet. I caught a song of hers on the radio entitled, 'Rambling Man,' I was blown away.
I kept checking that I wasn't listening to a Joni Mitchell cd.
She has that warble from voice to falsetto that Joni used to such beautiful effect.
Her current record is called, 'I Speak Because I Can.'
She is currently touring Europe - I cannot wait until she hits our shores.
Frightened Rabbit are two Scottish brothers, Scott & Grant Hutchinson.
Somewhat stereotypical album titled, 'The Winter of Mixed Drinks' is a great combination of indie pop & old time rock and roll.
'Swim Until You Can't See Land,' is a wonderful, melancholy piece.
(Not that I need more melancholy, but it is very well written)
There is just something about them, indescribable to me, that draws me like a moth to flame.
I had heard the group before but most NPR affiliates do not list the song currently playing.
(Note to NPR - fix that!)
James Maddock
He is not a new find, but rather one worth repeating - over and over.
If you enjoy Van Morrison or Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, et cetera then he is perfect!
I heard a show he did last night live on WFUV and was amazed by the polish and energy. From the songs he picked to their execution it was a superb offering. If you've not heard him yet, go buy, 'Sunrise On Avenue C.' ($10 on his website)
http://www.jamesmaddock.net/
And be prepared for a new favorite.
http://www.lauramarling.com/
http://www.myspace.com/frightenedrabbit
Frightened Rabbit
Laura Marling has a voice that is so sweet. I caught a song of hers on the radio entitled, 'Rambling Man,' I was blown away.
I kept checking that I wasn't listening to a Joni Mitchell cd.
She has that warble from voice to falsetto that Joni used to such beautiful effect.
Her current record is called, 'I Speak Because I Can.'
She is currently touring Europe - I cannot wait until she hits our shores.
Frightened Rabbit are two Scottish brothers, Scott & Grant Hutchinson.
Somewhat stereotypical album titled, 'The Winter of Mixed Drinks' is a great combination of indie pop & old time rock and roll.
'Swim Until You Can't See Land,' is a wonderful, melancholy piece.
(Not that I need more melancholy, but it is very well written)
There is just something about them, indescribable to me, that draws me like a moth to flame.
I had heard the group before but most NPR affiliates do not list the song currently playing.
(Note to NPR - fix that!)
James Maddock
He is not a new find, but rather one worth repeating - over and over.
If you enjoy Van Morrison or Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen, et cetera then he is perfect!
I heard a show he did last night live on WFUV and was amazed by the polish and energy. From the songs he picked to their execution it was a superb offering. If you've not heard him yet, go buy, 'Sunrise On Avenue C.' ($10 on his website)
http://www.jamesmaddock.net/
And be prepared for a new favorite.
http://www.lauramarling.com/
http://www.myspace.com/frightenedrabbit
Saturday, April 3, 2010
After the Prayin', We'll be Playin' at 'Characters'
I hope everyone had a good Passover and Easter.
We should have a larger turnout this weekend even though the BBQ will probably not be present.
A conga player, two drummers, three guitars, and two keyboards.
Now if only I could find a bass player.
:)
I wonder what type of music is Easter music?
"Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey?"
(Yeah, we've done that)
Ooooo...Oooo - 'What a Wonderful World!' ala Satchmo!
That'd be perfect.
What A Wonderful World
(Forget that he could no longer play by then - I really admire the man that was Louis Armstrong - note: future piece, an homage to the man)
If you're able, come by and say 'Hello.'
We should have a larger turnout this weekend even though the BBQ will probably not be present.
A conga player, two drummers, three guitars, and two keyboards.
Now if only I could find a bass player.
:)
I wonder what type of music is Easter music?
"Won't You Come Home Bill Bailey?"
(Yeah, we've done that)
Ooooo...Oooo - 'What a Wonderful World!' ala Satchmo!
That'd be perfect.
What A Wonderful World
(Forget that he could no longer play by then - I really admire the man that was Louis Armstrong - note: future piece, an homage to the man)
If you're able, come by and say 'Hello.'
Friday, April 2, 2010
When Will I Grow Up?
Last night we played at LaVerne's Farmer's Market.
It was cold. Well, it was in the fifties, but for playing outside - that is cold!
We set up, played a set and then took a break.
Two small boys wandered up to me...staring at my guitar. Very shy. The braver of the two approaches me and asks, "What kind of guitar is that?"
So I sat with them and we talked shop.
I remember as a child doing the exact same thing. Being attracted to the band at any event to which my parents went. Trying to broach any subject with the band just to be close and talk music.
It didn't matter if it was a one man band, or a piano bar. I just wanted to be with them.
So I sat and talked to these two with a huge grin on my face.
"You want to try her out?" I asked.
The light in this kids eyes lit the whole world for a moment or two. He strummed a chord...his hands were so small. And then tried to hand it back to me. His repertoire exhausted.
"No, hold it for me, please?"
"Here, try this chord."
For a brief ten minutes I was repaying a debt I had incurred years ago. And it brought me so much joy.
Would that all debts be so good for the soul.
I have such profound respect for those who truly love to teach.
And last night just reinforced that respect, tenfold.
It was cold. Well, it was in the fifties, but for playing outside - that is cold!
We set up, played a set and then took a break.
Two small boys wandered up to me...staring at my guitar. Very shy. The braver of the two approaches me and asks, "What kind of guitar is that?"
So I sat with them and we talked shop.
I remember as a child doing the exact same thing. Being attracted to the band at any event to which my parents went. Trying to broach any subject with the band just to be close and talk music.
It didn't matter if it was a one man band, or a piano bar. I just wanted to be with them.
So I sat and talked to these two with a huge grin on my face.
"You want to try her out?" I asked.
The light in this kids eyes lit the whole world for a moment or two. He strummed a chord...his hands were so small. And then tried to hand it back to me. His repertoire exhausted.
"No, hold it for me, please?"
"Here, try this chord."
For a brief ten minutes I was repaying a debt I had incurred years ago. And it brought me so much joy.
Would that all debts be so good for the soul.
I have such profound respect for those who truly love to teach.
And last night just reinforced that respect, tenfold.
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