Being a Creative Genius Can Be a Lot of Work

I get energized and plop myself in front of my computer ready to write, record, compose, play and be that musical genius I think I am.
I compose a score.
I revise and edit.
Rinse and repeat...rinse and repeat.

Finally...hours later, I have a score I like. Yes, this sounds good - in a vacuum.
Now I have to add my guitar for perhaps with a second or third time.

And fuck, I don't have the energy to go on.
This is not new; not age related. I have always had this. After an orgasm, I tend to be hungry and sleepy. Well, the creative process, being another expression of intimate sharing is sex. It is the same thing.
I want a drink, maybe a sandwich and a nap before I go on.

So to be that driven musical genius, I have to learn to have multiple orgasms. Not at the same time. Over a course of a several hours.

I think I am truly on to something. I am not being facetious.
Maybe it is a scheduling thing? Write early in the day and later when I feel it try laying the overdubs down?

Like Sex, Only Better...(I Said That?)

You play and the feeling is sex only you are doing this in public in front of a crowd and garnering applause.
You are having intimate relations with a room full of people.

This area of LA county is home to not a few honest-to-goodness roadhouses.
A Grotto is one. Literally a basement room. Long and low and packed. People who are drinking and looking for fun.
We don't have to be great. Just something to dance to.

Easy. Fun. And the release is palpable. For all of us in the room. Maybe for different reasons, but everyone is finding a way out.

The night began watching another friend at a local lodge. I have been putting it off as I find the lodge scene way too shuffleboard geriatric for me. The only interesting people are the drunks. Again, not for me.

We are playing a mix of Small Faces, old Johnny Winter, jamming 'cuz nobody realizes it's not a Hendrix song anymore...
I realized I had my acid smile on and that I was having a great time doing a huge amount of nothing.
Share, sharing...experiences or fluids, it's all the same to me really.

My guitar sounds great.
I can play a lot more than I imagine if I put my mind to it.
People appreciate what I can do to the point they buy drinks and leave tips.

I am THIS close!

Villex Update

Want to save the shipping? Drive to Sherman Oaks.
(Amp Shop/Bass Exchange)
The Villex demo

(Ask me how I know)

Gud gawd.
Okay I realize that demoing a product is not a strength of mine, yet. There should be more finesse in this but here it goes.
Staring in position five on the guitar (neck pickup) with the VMB off, play four chords & flip a switch.
5 off then on
4 on then off
3 off then on
2 on then off
1 off then on

I watched the output on an oscilloscope and saw an increase of somewhere between 75 and 200 mV depending on the pickup and notes struck. Which means to keep G Ohm happy, we must reduce the current. Conservation maintained.
In the world of guitar pickups and their output, 200 mV is a huge increase.

When gain is employed it is not as noticeable.  However this vastly expands the guitars palette.  What was a weak sound, i.e. without gain is now a very usable option.

When I got my Alairex HALO what I noticed was that it doesn't have one "set" perfect position for me. Depending on what I want to hear I need to flip switches, or turn knobs.

What this little miracle does is it also make the guitar "unstable." Needing input from me to achieve what I want to hear.

Next Up, Villex Passive Mid-Range Booster

Clapton...Beano boost...Mid tone.
Eric has said his signature sound is the emphasis on the middle frequencies.

If you buy the Fender Clapton signature Stratocaster you get an active mid boost circuit included.
Active versus passive - using a power source, in this case a battery to power and boost the circuit.
A passive boost, by strict definition is not real - what it does is shift the resonant peaks down stream...so they get away with using the hyperbole "...Mid Range Boost." Yeah.

No, the loudness factor is not what interested me, boost is not needed. So why is this interesting?
Clapton used a boost to the middle frequencies of his Strat, the quintessential 'quack' of a Strat. He used an active amplifier, made small to fit within the body of the guitar.

You unscrew the jack from the guitar. Cut the two wires and insert them into the opening in the top photo. Screw the wires snug. Replace the jack and attach it to the guitar.

Flip the switch and the circuit is in use, otherwise you have the stock sound you bought.


The ONLY troubling aspect in the entire process is the company and it's murky history. First in the U.K. and now in SoCal, a website that a would cause a 2nd grader to giggle, has a loop in the 'How To Order' page inducing anything but warm and fuzzies.
It seems your choice is to call a personal number and give someone your credit card information.
Whew...I found a dealer on eBay and that adds PayPal protection and also obviates the need to give someone I do not know my personal information.

In California...$105.99 + $9.54 tax and $3.99 shipping - $119.52.

Okay, Now I get The Tortured Artist

I love my shit.
I play well, although not often enough.
I can make the sound I hear in my head.
I have very, very good friends. Some are there at the drop of a hat. Some pop up from time to time.
I have more than enough to eat and drink.

The negative side of my personal balance sheet is abysmal.
I have no job. (12 years same firm)
I am at the end of unemployment benefits.
I am not happy in my "natural" environment.

But life finds a way. I survive and even at times, thrive.

I am, Van Gogh.
I cry watching Grey's - I am moved.
I am riveted watching The Newsroom - I am infused with positive energy.
I frequently look at the ceiling and silently mouth, "Why?"

Okay, I fit the definition of a tortured soul.
And I am only halfway immersed. What bothers me the most. I could be a savant and communicate in a very different way than the rest of humanity.
But I am not. I have some of the disadvantages but none of the genius. I am a jack-of-all-trades.
A wonderful way to skate through life, but short of meaningful impact.

A tortured soul playing one? It boggles the mind.

Pictures of My Guitar

Yes, I have been known to take a shot or five of guitars I buy. I know I may indeed off them sometime in the future, so it serves as a record.
But...

There is a website that among guitar players is HUGE with a capital G.
My Les Paul

As the name would suggest it is primarily a Gibson site but over the years has grown to encompass many brands.
It boasts of well over twenty five thousand members. Huge in forum numbers.
From the data I have seen the average age is forty six, the average number of guitars each member owns is four.
The site is privately owned but the income stream is not negligible by any stretch of the imagination.

The first and foremost occupier of time on this website is posting pictures of a new guitar.
Yes, are we all excited by the purchase of an expensive thing? Cars do this to people. Shelling out three or four thousand dollars for a guitars also qualifies.

But having seen one Les Paul, you have seen them all.

And yet what I have noticed is more often than not the people on the site are not musicians.
Wait, wait...what?!

A website about photography, do the members post pictures of their cameras or compositions they have made WITH their cameras?

Do saxophonists wax poetic over the patina of the brass? Or do they discuss the tone, how when they are playing Trane they are transported?

But guitarists, want to measure dick size. The fuck?
"Mine costs more..."
"Mine has the best flame maple top..."
"Mine has a long tenon (the method of attaching a set neck, a glued neck)..."

Are you kidding me?

In 1972 when you wanted to prove your were the better guitarist, you came to school and during Study Hall would show all your friends how you figured out Johnny Winter's latest.
I bought a Stratocaster, Augie had an SG, Corky bought a Les Paul...we didn't compare construction or flame or hardware...we compared chops.
What I can play that you can't.

So on the website I tried to cajole and prod and push and what I got in reaction was,
"Quit peeing in our cheerios..."

Some people got it. That an older member of the tribe is passing down knowledge earned with years.
And I know that youth is made to not "get it" until it is too late and they are my age.

Sure I have pride in the crap I own; that's human nature.
But what is more important?
What I own, or what I make of myself using the tools at my disposal?

It has been a frustrating week in many, many ways.

Laugh or cry, right?
Watch me.

The Joy Is Unimaginable

How can anything that is not related to sex feel so good?

Answer:
It does relate to sex.
That was easy.


Food, the act of eating and sharing with others is as intimate as removing clothes and uttering words seldom heard in broad daylight.
So too, is music. Intimate, revealing, laying bare...literally. Either your soul or your body, but no one rides for free.
It is an act of love to give of ourselves this way. To play the music and sing the songs; to accept what you hear and be moved by it. It is very much a two way street.

I frequently am moved to tears of joy while playing. Often someone will ask, 'If I am okay?'
Two people seeing the same thing and taking two different things from it.
I am more than okay.

Knockin' On Heaven's Door got me thinking of my father, and the tears flowed. But I was in a happy place, reliving good times.

However, our culture and society have dictated a more "manly" approach. Tears? In public? And not at a funeral? Unacceptable..
At the same time, a heartfelt expression will bring any crowd with a pulse to their feet.
I saw an cute player weep after every love song and watched the female component of the audience melt.
I don't know if his expression was heartfelt - the guy in me saw a cynical use, an alterior motive. I still could recognize the power of sharing your emotions.

When I was a kid and did this is usually cost me greatly. I put myself way out there and it felt, invariably that my feelings got trampled in the end. I built a wall about me to protect myself.

Now that I overtly put my emotions out there, I seem to reap so much more than I sow. It is not that times have changed. It is that I, me, e has changed. I revel in sharing; I know this. Now I can do so with little reservation. What a difference in my life.
To give a piece of me...to you.