OverDrive Custom Guitar Works

The tremolo arm that comes standard with a strat model is a long, skinny affair.
I'm a relatively small guy, and I wear my guitar kinda high...this thing is just waaaay too long.

I cruise online looking for a smaller tremolo arm.
David Gilmour is generally credited with this little innovation. No wonder Umma Gumma was such a wonderful trip.

I found a few vendors offering what I sought.
I ordered one and waited.
When I saw the receipt I had a small concern. Would the arm fit my Squier?
Squier, being a company that Fender acquired and uses to make the less expensive models. They are made offshore and so use metric rather than imperial hardware.


The day that it arrived, it indeed did not fit. But, not to worry. If I'd send my original arm to them, they'd get the specifications needed to fabricate a fitting arm for my Squier. I sent it off that same day.

Emails were exchanged, I found Craig Wells to be a patient man, he took the time to explain to me the nuances of tremolos. As well as the steps he was taking to fulfill my $15 order.

Finally the day came when my arm(s) arrived. My old, long arm and the new, chrome plated one.
I installed it. Not impressed at all.
It took nearly Herculean effort to move the bridge slightly.

More emails were exchanged and in them, Craig again, patiently took the time to walk me through the process of adjusting the claw.
The claw is the metal piece that attaches the tremolo springs to the body of the guitar. And by adjusting the claw's tension, you alter the amount of force necessary to move the arm.
In this, you seek a balance between too loose, which makes keeping the guitar as though it sounds in tune more difficult and too tight which makes it too difficult to 'break' the bridge from the body.
I spent a good hour moving the screws out...a turn or so at a time. Retuning, if needed and playing the arm.
(Tremolo claw screws are LONG - four or more inches)
And remember, you are doing this to a piece attached to five steel springs. I kept having visions of a screw coming out from the body with a sharp 'twang' and severing some needed bit of me.

Several inches of screw later, I have found that sweet spot. The arm reacts like butter. Stays in tune.
Voila.

OverDrive carries a great variety of products for your Strat. Loaded pickguards...hardware...bodies, et cetera.
Very reasonable prices and excellent customer service.
I can recommend them, without reservation.

Guitar $350
Tremolo arm $15
Mahogany knobs $25
Vintage Springs $7
Linday Fralin Blender Pot $10
Replacement bone nut $80
Setup - included a spring tree...that's right, not a string tree, a spring tree (intonation issues)- $80
Total $567

The guitar is a keeper. Indian Cedar (who knew?) SD designed pickups. And as I said, the only issues were the badly cut nut. (the 'B' had a click) and the short string tree.
When last asked why the guitar was covered in smudges and fingerprints, I replied, "Because I play it a lot?"
I really should clean it up.

How Can This Be Considered Work?

Getting paid, even meager sums - like the sweet sixteen bash that netted me $30, are winning scenarios. How can you think otherwise? I realize I put in a lifetime of practice, some of it very hard - indeed, but to compare this with any other pedestrian vocation is ludicrous.

If you do what you love, no matter...you are rewarded, you shine. It is just icing on the cake to make "real" money.
In the last four months I must have played...thirty or more gigs. I'd guess more than twenty were in trade of kind - I played and got fed in return. Maybe eight or nine have been paying gigs, and of those maybe two were well paying. Real money.

I don't play to get wealthy, I play because I love to do so.
I get exhausted now. I play in rehearsals or gigs two or three times a week. Work follows on many of those days.
And yet I am not struggling, I am thriving.
The enrichment of my soul is priceless. Another sure sign is growth. I have learned to play in altogether new and different ways. Hendrix in the early days had a very pure tone. Later he found effects and his tonal palette grew.

I need to go legit. This cannot be legal. Nor can it be considered labor...maybe a labor of love.
I realize there are other vocations that bring as much joy to others.
I just don't speak that language.

Do Your Part

The musicians play...that's a given.
Performers perform.
Okay.

What is the audience's function?
They pay the tab, they have no part to play.
Or do they?

They pay for the venue. They eat and drink. What more should they do?
Clean the restrooms?

Audiences feed the performers. Energy. The reason Nils Lofgren used to do 360 somersaults was the reaction he received in return. Hendrix humped his guitar for a reaction from the crowd. It was not an "artistic statement."
Very few of those, anyway.

They interact with the band. A subtle dance for the most part, every once in a while an overt act.
When the overzealous fan threw a Frisbee and hit Johnny Winter in the head...I cannot recall how his playing reflected the whack to the noggin, it was 1973 after all.

The new behavior I have witnessed, however is becoming onerous.
Cell phones. Singing along with the band. Screaming children.
Switch them off? I understand a tavern, but a concert hall? What a social faux pas!
The last time singing along with the performers was allowable was a Jerry Vale concert in 1975.
Children? Yes, my mother took me to see Pete Seeger. My father, Victor Borge.
Screaming children? Never. Take them outside, thank you very much.

Believe it or not, it's a duet.

I, Idiot Savant

Are all artists idiot savants of one degree or another?
Egos
Passion
Manic/Depressive
Hypnotic concentration
Intense focus that comes in waves

I read somewhere that a symptom of autism is walking on ones toes.
I did that as a child.
We are always two. There is never such a focus of spirit that elements of yin or yang don't surface from time to time.
But artists...are they more sensitive or are the swings between yin and yang that much greater?
Is it a treatable disease?

Will the treatment enhance or diminish the talent?
I know some who believe the treatment of the tortured soul will take energy away from the talent.
I find the opposite to be true...when happy, there is more energy. Creative juice abounds. Desire returns and the classic blues fade.
Was Van Gogh a Delta or Chicago Blues player? He reveled in his pain and did nothing to alleviate it.
His only outlet, the canvas.
He needed an audience to satisfy his need for basic human contact.

The trouble is that history tends to paint the tortured soul as the brightly burning star.
Hendrix, Joplin, Mozart, Morrison, Van Gogh, Lennon.

Time for a well adjusted one.
Anyone have a suggestion?

Driving Music

No, not JoJo Gunne's 'Run.'
No, not the music that causes you to stomp your car's accelerator to the floor.

What I am talking about is music that drives you. It may be pop, or folk, or classical. The genre is not the thing. The passion, is. Name the last five concerts you have attended. See a pattern? Most of us will see that we tend to enjoy a specific style and deviate rarely.

So what drives your heart?

I know people that are driven by what is closest to their heart - the bass player that loves a hard, well kept bottom. The drummer that loves Keith Moon.
Then there are people that are driven by what is in their heart. Be it, love or loss - they listen to reflections of their mood. To an extent we all do. Sometimes the music can alter your mood. What began as slow and quiet became pounding and strong.

I wonder if Carlos Santana is the world's best lover? His music certainly is. I wonder if Ted Nugent had an very unhappy and violent childhood?
Jim Morrison was lonely and far ahead of his peers. I don't think that the rest of the band understood him, either.

I have always described my music as romantic rock. It can be a samba by Santana or a simple folky tune.
'America,' by Simon and Garfunkel. The coda of that song, to this day still gives me chills. Never mind the incredible harmony Art created, the strength as it grew throughout the repeating refrain. The driving urgency.
Inherent rebellion.
And then the song fades...as it began.
But it drives me.
I hear music all the time...everywhere. In white noise. In a laugh or a remark.
And all of it tugs at my heart; to either lift it or dash it against the rocks of my drunken monkey.

That's not to say there's no valid case for driving music. The kind that nets you a speeding ticket.
Jo Jo Gunne was one of  those special gems in the rough.

The Joy

Most of us enjoy sharing. Some of us live to share.
Playing in front of an audience is a very powerful form of sharing.
Music is such an intimate language. The sharing of that language is a strong exchange between audience and performers.

Do artists and their patrons get the same rush?
That man in the third row, does he like my singing...my playing...is he just having such a good night that it wouldn't matter if we were playing the theme song from the local ice cream truck?
As in art, we can appreciate different aspects of the same act.

Bars:
If I had only myself to please, the band would have a set list of tunes that had little or no dancing value.
That would displease the bars management.
People that dance tend to drink more, thereby increasing profits.
Also guys who are with a date, having a good night, will spend more.

Folky Venues:
Now the management doesn't mind the lack of drink sales. No, they want gate movement. The more attendees, the better the profit. They also sell wine and snacks, so they lengthen sets lists. The longer you wait for intermission, the more glasses will be consumed. But it is secondary. Two scenarios - one, they charge a fair price for an established act. The second is the plethora of free programs to showcase new and upcoming talents. An investment in the future.

Concert Halls:
All that moves is the gate. The merchandising done in the lobby is a great deal of income but it is driven by the gate. So they throw flyers everywhere. Perhaps the tickets are inexpensive as well. Advertising is a much more important vital component. Get the word out and fill the seats.

Each type of venue requires a different set list...another strategy.

And each one gives the band an opportunity to share with the audience.
To make intimate contact from twenty yards away.
And to each person in attendance, a unique experience - although we may share, we share many different things.

Here's to Joy.

Five Minus One Equals Perfect

We have a standing gig at a local watering hole - Characters.
We play for a few hours, they provide a barbecue and the beer - we play music to get the patrons dancing and drinking.
It is an arrangement that works well. There are five of us in the "band."
It's really more of a loose association of players.
One guy invited another and it took off from there.

Friday morning we rehearse for the show Saturday. Run through a good ten or fifteen songs. Work the arrangements - tweak an ending or two, make the transitions smooth. Three hours and we've had enough.
It sounded tight.

Saturday I arrive at the bar and find no one. Fine. I'll go and grab my bike, it's a nice day. I can still get a hundred miles in before the sun goes down.

As I am sitting and thinking, Michael and his family show up, and then Jerry wanders in. So we sit and talk.
One of us is missing. Not answering the phone. Not acknowledging the others. We are short one integral piece.
The mover and shaker was nowhere to be found.

Seems the rest of us had something on our minds; no one had said anything for fear of damaging a frail ego and causing a ruckus. Now, it all comes out.

At four o'clock we decided, "Let's play...anyway."
(We normally go on at one thirty...two)

It gels. It sounds tight.
It sounds good.
We are having fun. Wait? Isn't that what this was all about to begin with? Have some fun, make some music and a friend or two along the way? I guess we had forgotten that somewhere during all this.

Egos are funny things. Feed them too much and they turn into monsters. Ignore them and you kill the underlying support. It's a terribly delicate balance.

I had assumed incorrectly that if I kept my mouth shut and played well - everything would work out.
It turns out we had to talk and air our concerns.
Having clear air made all the difference in the world. That and one of us not showing.
Sometimes, less is more - truly.


Diane Birch - Ben Folds - James Taylor & Carole King - great shows this week - more inspiration to keep the energy flowing.

Thank God for Editors

I love the television show, 'House.'
(A-G-D-A-F-G)
I am a big fan of Sherlock Holmes, and besides the obvious ties to Holmes, House also has absolutely dynamite music.

By the way, SCORE is everything.
Do you think The Exorcist would have been scary without a soundtrack to match?
Turn the sound down on anything and you'll see how the impression it makes upon you diminishes.

So I do the fan-trivia move and google the band that did the theme for the show - The song is incredible.
Such a simple piece and yet it evokes deep feelings.
I do the requisite thing and buy the song.

I play the song - it's over five minutes long - not the thirty second clip we are treated to during the opening of the show.
And while I see what the sound editors did, I am still trying to pick my jaw from the floor.
Here is a portion of the lyrics:

Teardrop - MASSIVE ATTACK

Water is my eye
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Fearless on my breath
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath

Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath

I like to think that when I am pointed in the right direction I can enjoy what is hip.
I'm at a loss with this, however.

It's bad.
Worse than that, the "melody" is just the four steps and repetitious.
Clearly, not my cup of tea.

But the editors of the show performed some amazing aural surgery and salvaged a wonderful clip with which to showcase the program.
I bet this stuff would make Alanis Morissette blush.

(Did I just say that?)

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

One, Two, Three...

Play your part.
Make the whole thing sound like a complete package.
The essence of a band is that the parts make something greater than themselves.
What is a John, Paul, George or Ringo?

Ah, but what is The Beatles?

So the drummer has to know when to swell the music and when to bring it down for the vocalist.
The bass player must be the anchor - never to lose his place no matter the distraction.
The rhythm guitar backs the bass and provides fills.
The keyboards, likewise.

I play more Santana and I play it better than anyone else I know. Years of following the band and wanting that soulful cry that Carlos can evoke has led me very close. Close to the point the patrons asked me to play without regard to the rest of the band. My ego thanks you, but my sense of whole does not. My sense of music certainly doesn't.

So the regular drummers brother 'forgets" to bring his ID. Drama.
The the other guitarist plays nothing but solos. Selfish.

The second drummer and his brother put up a very steady back beat. I play with them.
And while it does serve my sense of whole - serving a higher purpose than my own swelled head, the package was fragmented by the lack of cohesion from the others.

I will give the bass player and his younger brother a lot of credit - they came to play, to rehearse. Not to just jam. Or stroke their own egos. It took a lot of work to get them to take a break - no, they wanted to get the set down.
We played 'Black Magic Woman,' ten...twelve times?
We segued that into 'Oye Como Va,' which lead to Europa.
While the band is working the back to 'Oye', I stand and explain the original tune was written by Tito Puente in 1963 and then famously covered by Santana in 1969. We are rehearsing in a bar full of patrons. Eventually the other two seem to get it. It's not about any of us - it's about the people that came to hear us.

When we finished Europa, we brought the house down.
An instrumental?
Yeah, it was that good.
That's, what I am talking about.