A Day of Bad Jamming Is Better Than a Good Day At Work

I have a neighbor that through sheer grit, determination and no sense of when he is being a royal pain, hosts more jam sessions than the average bear.

I try to take advantage of these as sources of other contacts more than a chance to play...usually.

And while a good number of them eventually have become productive from my standpoint, there is still a fair amount of garbage to sift through.

Today was such a day.
It has been very warm this summer in California and having to endure withering heat and then to try to play is a tough road. Heat saps creativity. Causes drinking and excess of a cerebral sort that also sap the creative flow.

And this guy is so cheap - he thinks a fan and an open door will solve the air dilemma.
After some back and forth it was concluded to turn his window AC unit on...I could swear it belched dust, it hadn't been used in such a long, long time. After an hour or so, the heat in his living room began to dissipate.

Let the music commence! Ha...one participant was dozing...heat and beer, no doubt.
We began to play and the neighbors began to load up on Rics lawn, having a listen. Ric notices them and goes to open the door.
"The heat..."
"Oh yeah..." He waves. We go back to jamming. None of the invitees are spectacular, in my mind. Nothing clicks, and yet it had been a good session.

I learned something of my phrasing that was missing. I found relative keys without thinking about it...I sounded good at times.

Even the worst jam session beats a day slaving in the salt mines.

Turn A Few Knobs, Why Don'tcha?

In the quest for perfect tone, one aspect we lose sight of is that the target is always changing.
I mean always.

Today I am listening to Weather Report, tomorrow it is The Nazz. How far apart can those two be?
No wonder people start to pull out their hair and begin thinking of capacitor changes, or a new amp. Maybe boutique pickups would solve this weeks dilemma?

I have an equalizer in my pedal-board...to shape the frequency response. How often do I adjust the ten bands? We tend to fall into patterns...ruts.

My OD has two sets of tone controls. I do move them every time I change guitars; but only to recreate the same sound with the different pickups. Another rut.

My amp has knobs.

I don't use the "Drive" channel, but there is one knob for treble middle and bass bands.

If you were to reflect for a moment you quickly see that I have many ways to shape the basic sound as I play.

How often do I try for the opposite sides of the rainbow?
Not.often.enough.

Once we catalog a sound we like, why move the knobs? With so many, it is entirely possible to never recreate exactly the same sound. Should I be logging an entry for each sound?

Nah...the answer is craft a sound that matches the sound you are hearing in your head...and they are not all the same. Wayne Shorter does not sound like Todd Rundgren.
Easy, actually...but humans like the easy way out.

When I bought the many OverDrive pedals I have acquired through the years, it was looking for a particular tone. Why expect one pedal to nail Eric Clapton today and Hendrix tomorrow?
(Actually,  a HALO can...)
Harmonic Amp Like Over Drive

But it is a rare thing, indeed.

I tend to play Fender single coils, humbuckers or P-90s. Three very distinct sounds.
So why aim for the middle of the target only when there so many shades of sound and color if you vary from the center...think outside the box?

Sharing...That's All There Is

The universal truth that all humanity has been searching hi & lo since time began. And we never felt that the answer was within our grasp. We are omnipotent, we went to the Moon, we fly with impunity. And yet, in our collective heart we know this to be a brave face towards mortality.

Here it is:
Be Selfish to Extremes.
Share Everything.

Follow these two things and you will be healthier and happier.

I was leaving a venue in which I heard music of my generation, done my way - No, not FreeBird - Watermelon Man...ala Herbie, by a four piece band in their kiddie fedoras?!
I was so impressed I began to enjoy myself.

I walked into an alley with a group of young people, one of whom had a joint.
"Nothing for me?" I asked.

He gave me the rest of his joint. We traded skin and parted. Sharing. Be it random or most intimate. If you are lucky enough to know intimate exchange...you are favored, blessed, well looked after.

Why we hippies shared everything...it was fun! It was so cool to share my food and since you have some weed, we'd take care of each other.

But those moments are what make life - Mick said it...Life's just a cocktail party, on the streets...
And the mix, is up to you!
Be a wallflower your entire life, or get up and dance.

I am out of breath, I dance so much.

My Inner Emelda

There are many accessories that guitarists have use for.
Picks
Strings
String Winders
Patch Cords
Straps

Most of these objects have very little to do with fashion...with the one exception of straps.
Levi is one of the larger manufacturers of guitar straps.
Of every material, length and price.

And like Emelda Marcos, I have a collection of straps that far outweighs my needs as dictated by the number of guitars I have at any given moment.
Why?

Certainly NOT because I like the way they look. I couldn't care any less. I don't see them. They are to hold my guitar, the more securely, the better. The best strap I owned was a gawd awful looking Ernie Ball strap that was stiffer than a Victorians collar. It was a gaudy, silly looking thing.
Gold color with black outlined stars and the name "Ernie Ball" done the same as the stars.
I was disappointed when it finally broke.

I buy straps because of how long they will last. The stiffer, the more hard plastic, the better I like it.
I also need a strap that has a range of adjustment. I like my guitar held rather high, so the minimum strap is more important than how low it'll go.

I was recently playing at a fair setting and the bass player spoke about the strap I had brought.
"Dude, it doesn't go with your shirt."

I was ready to dismiss the thought when it struck me.
I do dress for gigs. I look good when I play dress up - don't we all?
So if I care about my own look, shouldn't I try to match the strap, much as I would match my shirt and tie?

Yes, it is low on the priority list, but it does mean something.

Tension Is What Causes Change

Big Trouble Little China - there is a scene in which the troubles of the world are boiled down to this:

"But there is one thing even David Lo Pan must acknowledge. All movement in the universe is caused by tension between positive and negative furies."

Without tension there are no dynamics, no movement...entropy.

Musically, in life...this can be applied anywhere.

I am currently very content with my music, with my guitar, with my sound. And then it takes effort to sit and play take after take to achieve perfection. To even attempt perfection.

A rut is the outcome when one is content.

Tensions are to be savored. No, not conflict. But tensions. Two desires working in different but not opposing directions. They can be made to work in harmony...another musical term.

But it takes effort and it doesn't always directly affect music. You have to have a long term outlook.

A sense of patience.

This works...in a piece of music as well. No, really? 

Dynamics are life to music. And seemingly everything else.

This is why I dislike compressor pedals.

Two Drunken Monkeys?

One is the voice to listen to and garner sage advice.
The other is nothing but the sum total of all your fears. That is the one to ignore, completely.

I am not advocating that you discard healthy fears - I would never suggest sticking a fork in an electrical outlet; that is a very healthy fear.

I am talking about the easy schmuck. The one that fears to show what resides inside. We wear masks and fear having the mask taken away.
The mask limits you. And in return it doesn't protect you from anything but life and enjoying yourself.

Fuck it, fuck that...fuck you.

When I was in fifth grade I was tapped for a solo spot in a choir show. My voice cracked. I was mortified.
One bad note and I wanted to shrink and hide.
Why? What the fuck for?
I am human, and freely admit it; so why pretend to be infallible?

About ten years ago I learned to tell my fears, the irrational and silly ones, to go fuck themselves.
I started wearing shit I would never have been caught dead in before - it just wasn't cool. That perception of what is cool has changed dramatically.
What is cool is authenticity.

Dylan's voice sucks. So does Springsteen's. So many of my absolute favorite musicians have various flaws and faults. Who am I to pretend to be better than that group? Whatta schmuck.
Parenthetically, I have a decent voice. Not great, but serviceable.

A year ago I got to play a number with a guy I consider a friend. He graciously accommodated me with a simple tune and a solo in the middle. He was talking to someone and absently doing the chords, so I began to noodle around. He asked if I was soloing already...we laughed and began the song.
In the audience were people who had been present in my fifth grade recital as well as many good friends...and my mother. She had tried to console me forty years earlier.

A) We nailed the song.

B) When the first chorus came up, I belted it out, and nailed it. There was no fear, no thought of the past, I was in the moment playing, doing what I love. And it showed.

C) The solo was secondary, what mattered was we sounded good, really good.

Nothing about it was perfect, but I was able to show myself to thirty people and not fear that.

Fit In and Make Yourself Feel Better

Yeah, not exactly what James Brown meant. Not what he said, either...but.
Can you name any of the musicians in the James Brown Revue?
Not a one. They were made to sound like a singular unit to showcase the dancing of the Whirling GodFather of Soul.

It's the annual July Fourth at George Harrison's. Three bands worth of music. A pig and a goat for food. There is more going on than a three ringed circus. People to-ing and fro-ing. On the concrete patio which is covered by a huge tent there are kids (20 somethings) on bikes, toddlers running and playing. There is a pool off to the side by the parking.
A road house atmosphere, through and through.

We begin to play. The standards come out first. Someone plays Lynyrd Skynyrd...and we're off.
One of the bands, in fact - the headliners, are a no show.
After the tongues stop wagging, Neil Young comes out...When You Dance and Down By The River.
And on it goes.

Throughout this Mark, a saxophone player of the Kenny G variety and Shotgun, the sixty something who still thinks he is at recess are playing incredibly loudly. Both arrived late and had to set up further from the action. So to make up for this they cranked their volume. Shotgun, I suspect is deaf. Literally.
He is honking that guitar SO loudly that people start to look to see what the ruckus is about.

Is that a car alarm going off? Nope...Shotgun found the sound effects on his pedal board.
(Insert facepalm here)

I turn my volume down. The drummer matches me, which is the greatest hurdle in most bands and suddenly Mark and Shotgun are too loud for what we're doing.

After the second set I was able to remove my ear plugs and just play.

Here is the lesson for today. If everyone works to make the band sound good we all come off as musical geniuses. But one deaf guy playing too loudly is enough to sour the entire performance for everyone.
This is not a new rant, but merely my annual revisit.

We endure because we enjoy the company. Even if they are nuts, ill mannered and deaf.

And...I have to say, I sounded great.