There's nothing else in the world that I want more than to be a performing musician. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I want to be a performing musician as much as I want anything else in life, and I know that my life would have so much more satisfaction and meaning if I were to accomplish that one thing. But there are certain conditions, like being in a band, being able to play the kind of stuff I want to play (in terms of convincing the band as well as concerning my own abilities), and having some kind of an audience that digs the show.
I saw a Led Zeppelin cover band tonight. It was the first real rock show I'd been to since last summer. And I was reminded how great live music is. But being in the audience is one thing. I love getting to see and hear the music being played right in front of me, but I'm not really thrilled about the standing (or sitting) in a crowd of strangers drunk and high, partying to the soundtrack. When I see bands play live, I'm there to observe the show, not to get down and party. I listen to the music - I don't talk to my buds. And I follow most of the notes and changes. Because I'm not just a music fan. I'm a musician.
I want to be up on that stage. I want to be playing the music. I want to be creating the music, not just listening to it. I enjoy listening to it, but I don't feel like I'm in the right place when I'm standing in the crowd. I belong on the stage, wearing that guitar. And that's exactly what I want so bad. Playing music is a hard business - some bands make ridiculous loads of money, while the majority struggle to make ends meet. But playing music is both a lifestyle as well as a vocation. It's a lifestyle that I want to be a part of, and it's one of the few vocations that I consider desirable to me. It should be the answer to my problems. I'd kill to be a musician, even if it meant having a hard life, as long as I could get up on that stage and play.
So what's stopping me? I can't play. I say that, but I could call up a lifeline of people who would profess just the opposite. But it doesn't matter so much to me whether other people think I can play. What matters is that when I pick up the guitar, I can't make my fingers create the noise I want to hear. I consistently get comments from people who hear me play noise at the den that my performance is mind-blowing, and that's great to hear. But the truth is, I play noise because I can't seem to play notes right. I like that I'm doing something different, that opens people's minds to what kind of sounds can come from a guitar, and I think it sounds great sometimes. But it's my Plan B. I play it because I don't know how to play a searing blues solo. And I don't have the chops to win over an audience traditionally without an accompanying band. Or maybe I just don't want to. There are certain kinds of things I can accept playing by myself, but there are other things that I just don't want to bother with without the right elements of accompaniment. I don't want to play a stripped down version of this or that song. I want to rock people's fucking socks off. With rumbling bass, thundering drums, and wailing vocals, behind my searing guitar lead.
I don't know how to play with people. I've never learned how to accompany another musician, and I never really get the chance to practice. Somebody suggests, "you should jam together", and I'm like, okay, what the hell am I supposed to play? I don't know shit about scales and theory and modes and whatever the hell else. I don't know how to accompany a person's distinct style. All I know how to play is the stuff I play. And it may or may not sound good against the stuff you play. People think I'm a great guitarist, and they're surprised when I tell them that I'm intimidated by the thought of jamming with them, because I feel like I won't be able to live up to their playing - and here they think I'm better than they are!
People say I'm modest, and they say I've got the wrong standards, and they say all kinds of things to try to convince me that I'm good, but the bottom line is, when I pick up a guitar, I can't play what or how I want to play. I guess I have to get lessons or something. But fuck that. I don't want to deal with other people.
Finally, after 5 years of not once using the credit card I inadvertently signed up for (because some business-jerk started asking me questions on the phone before I knew what was happening), they're finally gonna close my account. 5 years of annoying notices, but at least I didn't have to talk to anyone.
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performance. Show all posts
29 February, 2008
28 January, 2008
Journal 007
There have been times in my life where I've considered the value of writing a diary. Having the ability to look back in detail at the things that were happening to me on any given day in the past, and the thoughts that were running through my mind, is interesting, if not all that practical. However, I never had the discipline to force myself to write about my day regularly, as it's always seemed like a redundant effort. Still, with my dedication to this blog, it seems I now have a sufficient excuse (even if it's not daily).
Friday was another Open Stage night at the den. It was relatively uncrowded - in my opinion, likely due to the bitter cold. I still get crazy nervous reactions before performing, and I don't know if it's more about going out of the house and into a crowd of people, or if it's about the performing itself, as I've gotten fairly comfortable getting up and playing at the den (although the same cannot be said about any other venues). The symptoms are more physical than psychological, I think. I have a sensitive digestive system, and my sinuses seem to want to react as well, like as if I was allergic to people or social contact or something. Even when I sit down and write for this blog, and start talking about stuff in a context where I know other people will be reading it, I start sniffing and coughing and sipping water a lot more than when I'm doing other things. It's weird. (And it is indeed happening now, as expected).
Before the Open Stage, I was thinking about my "madness" act, and I was starting to come to the conclusion that it was getting old, in my mind, and I needed to do something to make it new and interesting. I'm thinking about maybe incorporating the bow I have, but I need to practice that a bit and see if I can make it interesting. At any rate, when my time came to perform, I tried to mix my repertoire up a bit, opening it in a different way, and trying to spend more time on the quiet, ambient portions, than on the loud, erratic portions. I think it was good. At the end of it, someone in the audience asked for an explanation, and I was like (to myself) "shit, what do I say?" So I made something up about syzygy and planets lining up and cosmic energy or something, and I think they bought it.
Afterwards the Primatives & Co. had pizza again, since the Indian eatery they wanted to eat at wasn't open late enough (at least I think that's what the problem was).
Saturday, I finally watched one of the two Crossroads Guitar Festivals I got over the holidays. Some really great stuff. Joe Walsh did an awesome extended blues intro to Funk #49, which surprised and impressed me. I like his introduction to Rocky Mountain Way - "if I knew I was gonna have to play this song for the rest of my life, I would've written something else." I liked the songs that were done which had multiple guitarists, where each guitarist was given a chance to solo - which happened a lot at the festival. Like when Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Jimmie Vaughan, and B.B. King all took their turn on Rock Me Baby, and when each of the artists in Clapton's band soloed during a fierce and extended performance of Have You Ever Loved A Woman. Even though it's not really my scene, Steve Vai's performance was at least interesting - he's undoubtedly very talented at the instrument, but I see him more as a showman than a musician. Robert Cray's Time Makes Two was incredibly moving. I love songs that are performed like that, where the pain and sadness is palpable, and you could imagine the artist breaking down in tears just as easily as pouring out another verse or solo. Pretty much the exact opposite of Vai's act. Musically, Jonny Lang's act was alright, but the sheer effort he put into singing and playing was downright impressive. I felt like he was gonna have a stroke or something... I generally steer away from J.J. Cale's influence on Eric Clapton (Cale wrote Cocaine as well as After Midnight), because it's different from the blues material that I like to hear Eric Clapton play, but Cale's playing here was very interesting. Unique, and expressive. When James Taylor came on to do a couple songs, I was totally thinking, "this guy is such a chick musician" - like, you know how there are chick flicks? Well, James Taylor is one of the 'chick flicks' of musicians, if that makes any sense to you. Always good to see Santana play - I envy him for his wicked sustain. I don't know how he does it. It was fun to see Clapton play some Santana-esque licks in homage during the song - I think it's so interesting to hear guitarists playing in the style of other guitarists - not so much when they're stealing an artist's technique, but more as a form of musical impression. John Mayer was expectedly disappointing - I don't even know why he was involved in the festival. Even during his interview, he kept saying these weird things that made absolutely no sense at all. It's like, what? What are you talking about, and who cares? ZZ Top's closing act was pretty cool.
I started reading Living Fully With Shyness And Social Anxiety. There are different sections dedicated to different aspects of the condition. I've read the part on the body - physical symptoms. It's not as important to me as I think the part on the mind will be, since at this stage in my life, I've pretty much extracted myself from most of the situations that give me physical anxiety, and I'm more concerned with battling the psychological ideas that keep me from even going out there, into the world. It was still interesting though. Particularly the part about Shy Bladder Syndrome - the condition of being unable to 'vacate' in the presence of others, for psychological, rather than physiological, reasons. I admit it's something I have trouble with at times. Using public restrooms designed for more than one person at a time is pretty stressful for me, and I try to avoid it whenever possible, sometimes to adverse effect. Especially in college, taking a leak could at times become a rather paralyzing obstacle, when the hall restroom was anything less than empty. The real trouble of it is that you go in there, and if you could get it out right away, then that would be great. But the longer you wait for it to come out, the longer you've been in there, and the more concerned you get at people wondering what you've been doing in there, and then the anxiety kicks in at full power, and you want to hide and pretend like you're not even there - there's no chance for you to either do your business *or* leave. And then you end up waiting, sometimes quite a long time, until you have the privacy necessary to settle your affair.
I find that general situation is a problem with a lot of things - the idea of waiting until the moment's ripe, but the longer you wait, the more awkward it would be to act, and since you weren't prepared to act in the first place, you can't do it now, and then time just goes on and on and it gets worse and worse until you completely avoid what needs to be done. Like answering emails. Sometimes I'll get an email, and I'll be concerned about what to say and how it will be received, so I wait and think about it. And then the longer I postpone sending the reply, the more awkward it would be to send the reply that late. Arg. It happens with all kinds of things. Like telling someone about something. Like telling my dad about Burning Man, that's probably gonna turn out the same way. I'm afraid to tell him about it because I don't know what his reaction will be, and I'm afraid it will be less than 100% positive, which scares me - and even if it's like 90% positive, I'm still too scared about that 10%. So I wait for a good time to drop the issue, and it never comes, and the closer the event gets, the more worried I get about the added stress of mentioning it when it's so close, and the possible flak I'd get for not mentioning it earlier...and it's a vicious cycle of fear and anxiety and avoidance and it just doesn't have a positive outcome. So the best solution - and I can tell myself this, but it doesn't always mean that I can accomplish it - is to take care of these things right away. Cause none of the flak or negative reaction or any of that really matters - if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen - and the important thing is to get the deed done. The only purpose the fear serves is to prevent the deed from getting done, and once it's done, the fear is pointless. So the best way to get rid of the fear is to just do it. Don't think and don't worry; just do. But obviously that's easier said than done. If I didn't have a problem just doing it in the first place, then I wouldn't have a problem.
In the book, the author talks about what it takes for different people to overcome their struggles. For some people, all the information in the book won't be enough, and for others, just a single point of knowledge is enough to change their whole perspective. Well, after having read that, I'm surprised that I myself have been rather blown away by one minor little detail, that has changed my perspective at least a little bit. It's probably not everything, but it could at least be something. Anyhow, the detail was as follows. Having social anxiety means being overly sensitive to one's reception by other people. You get nervous over the smallest, unimportant details, thinking that the tiniest thing will cause a person to dislike you - and that's the worst possible outcome imaginable. But if you look at the coin from the other side, you see that this sensitivity to people's reactions can be considered a positive trait. You're nervous because you *want* to please people. So why is that a bad thing? Well, it's obviously a problem, but that's because you're making it out to be a problem. But it can also be an advantage, if you look at it from a positive perspective. If I'm nervous about meeting someone for the first time, I can let my anxiety at being accepted cripple me, or I can let my knowledge that I'm only nervous because I want to be accepted allow me to make a conscious effort at being accepted. And instead of using all that energy to monitor my own actions, and to worry about how other people might perceive them, I can use that energy to determine other people's moods, and then react to them to try and make other people feel more comfortable. I almost feel like it's a superpower, which can easily become a burden dragging me down, but if I learn how to use it properly, it could become an invaluable asset allowing me to help people, as well as myself. I think that's an amazing epiphany, and while I still have a long way to go in changing my life, I think it's an important step. Even just the idea, that the book encourages, that being shy is not something to be ashamed of, is empowering. I've alway been afraid to admit to people that I'm shy, despite it being obvious, because I've always looked at it as something to be ashamed of, something that people would naturally tease you about. But it's not necessarily a bad thing. It can be just as much a good thing. It's just an aspect of my personality, of who I am, and it's only as positive or negative as I allow myself to make it. Mindless positive encouragement has never impressed me, but show me facts and reasoning that support a more positive outlook, and well, it just might work...
On Sunday, the fam went out to eat in celebration of my dad's birthday. We went to a fancy Chinese restaurant nearby. The reasoning, as I understand it, is that my dad hasn't had a good plate of General Tso's Chicken in quite a while. He, and the rest of us, I think, were pleased with our meal. I hadn't had Chinese since college, I don't think. And it inevitably reminds me of college. Ordering Chinese with my friends on the hall. Ah, good times. I had my usual - Kung Pao Chicken. It's got a kick, but it's never been too spicy for me to handle (I'd say I'm a middle-weight on the scale of spice-lovers - if light-weights can't handle spice, and heavy-weights love the extremes). The only downside to Kung Pao is that it's one of the dishes with the higher veggie content. But I guess forcing myself to eat the veggies, which aren't too bad, is good for me, and it's worth it to get to the chicken. I also had some delicious wonton soup, and even more delicious pot stickers. A good Chinese meal like that has got to go up near the top of my list of best meals ever. I wish I could find a 24 hour Chinese buffet somewhere in the area. I'm a little disappointed they didn't provide chopsticks (though nobody asked), though it seemed like they might have been a bit too fancy for chopsticks (if that makes any sense). If it wasn't easier to just grab a fork out of the kitchen drawer, I'd definitely want to eat with chopsticks more often in general, no matter what kind of meals. Chopsticks are cool.
I read an article a while back about the changing music industry, and how albums are mixed differently today than they were decades ago - particularly, that they have less dynamic range and are louder overall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war). It's something I noticed when I got Silvertide's album Show & Tell years ago - it's mixed much louder than the average CD I have (considering that my collection consists mostly of albums from the 60's and 70's - although I've heard that some newer remasters or greatest hits collections are also victims of this 'louder is better' policy). But especially now, listening to most of my collection on a shuffled playlist, the difference between the modern and classic albums is striking. Earlier, I had to turn the volume up a bit to hear Jefferson Airplane's Comin' Back To Me - a mellow, acoustic piece - and then after the song, a track from the Stones new album A Bigger Bang came on and it was freaking loud! All the other modern albums I have are loud, too - including Aerosmith's Honkin' On Bobo, Johnny Winter's I'm A Bluesman, and American Minor, in addition to the ones listed above. It wouldn't bother me so much if the volume level was consistent, but the sudden switch from quiet to loud can be rather jarring at times.
My friend linked me to The RPM Challenge (http://www.rpmchallenge.com/) the other day. I hadn't heard of it, but apparently it's a general challenge to musicians to record an album during the shortest month of the year (February). It just so happens that February starts in a few days. I think this would be a positive experience, considering how much I avoid recording. It should be a nice kick in the pants, to force me to produce *something*, in the form of a final version. The idea is for everything to be recorded in February, although whether or not you *write* the songs in February is up to you. That having been said, I think it's truer to the challenge if you write the stuff, or at least develop most of it, within the month. So I've been partly thinking about what I'd like to do for my album, and partly avoiding thinking about it before February. Heh. But I think I wanna do a post-rock type thing. One long track that goes for 35-45 minutes, or however long it turns out to be. I want it to be a little more structured than the improvisation I do every other week at the Open Stage, because that would kind of be cheating for the challenge. So - and this is still a preliminary possible idea - I'm thinking about improvising for at least 35-45 minutes every night once February starts up, then after a little while, starting to work out specific sections. Ultimately, it's not gonna be transcribed note for note or anything, but I wanna have a clear idea of which parts go where, and what they'll sound like in general. And then we'll see what kind of things I come up with to make it interesting along the way. As much as I like the *idea* of studio wizardry, and using multiple tracks for different instrument parts, I think ultimately I'm gonna default toward just recording a single guitar, and just getting whatever I can play, like a live-in-the-studio kind of deal. I may or may not decide to add some words. We'll see, I might even change my mind about the whole thing, but so far, that's my idea, and the closer February gets, the more of a hassle changing my mind will become - though ultimately, whatever I come up with throughout the month, I imagine will be fair game. So it should be interesting, I think, and encouraging for me.
And that brings up another issue I wanted to mention. The fact that, the most important step toward accomplishing something, is committing to it. Because if you're not committed to it, then every little doubt you have becomes a potential reason to quit and back out. But if you've already committed, then your first instinct is to overcome those doubts and problems and barriers, rather than abandoning the project. And an insecure person such as myself will probably (I'm hoping) be surprised and impressed with how much he is capable of. So, I think, in order to accomplish amazing things, I have to commit to them first, or else they'll never get done. Like Burning Man. There are so many if's involved, that if I wasn't committed, I'd spend all my time worrying about it and not preparing myself for it. But having bought my tickets and committed to it, I don't care how much trouble or effort it is, I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it happen. It's like, getting into the mindframe that it's already been determined that it's gonna happen, and the only thing you can do is prepare for it. Whereas, if you weren't committed, then you can still fall back on the possibility of it not happening. And that becomes a crutch. And then it never happens. I think that maybe this could be good advice for other people, too. The most important step toward accomplishing something is committing yourself to it. Just don't be stupid, and make sure it's something you want to accomplish in the first place. And if it is, then once you commit to it, you'll be surprised at your ability to make it happen.
You know, I often think I won't have enough to say about something to make a good blog entry out of it, then when I finally get around to sitting down and writing stuff out, it turns out I have more than enough...
Friday was another Open Stage night at the den. It was relatively uncrowded - in my opinion, likely due to the bitter cold. I still get crazy nervous reactions before performing, and I don't know if it's more about going out of the house and into a crowd of people, or if it's about the performing itself, as I've gotten fairly comfortable getting up and playing at the den (although the same cannot be said about any other venues). The symptoms are more physical than psychological, I think. I have a sensitive digestive system, and my sinuses seem to want to react as well, like as if I was allergic to people or social contact or something. Even when I sit down and write for this blog, and start talking about stuff in a context where I know other people will be reading it, I start sniffing and coughing and sipping water a lot more than when I'm doing other things. It's weird. (And it is indeed happening now, as expected).
Before the Open Stage, I was thinking about my "madness" act, and I was starting to come to the conclusion that it was getting old, in my mind, and I needed to do something to make it new and interesting. I'm thinking about maybe incorporating the bow I have, but I need to practice that a bit and see if I can make it interesting. At any rate, when my time came to perform, I tried to mix my repertoire up a bit, opening it in a different way, and trying to spend more time on the quiet, ambient portions, than on the loud, erratic portions. I think it was good. At the end of it, someone in the audience asked for an explanation, and I was like (to myself) "shit, what do I say?" So I made something up about syzygy and planets lining up and cosmic energy or something, and I think they bought it.
Afterwards the Primatives & Co. had pizza again, since the Indian eatery they wanted to eat at wasn't open late enough (at least I think that's what the problem was).
Saturday, I finally watched one of the two Crossroads Guitar Festivals I got over the holidays. Some really great stuff. Joe Walsh did an awesome extended blues intro to Funk #49, which surprised and impressed me. I like his introduction to Rocky Mountain Way - "if I knew I was gonna have to play this song for the rest of my life, I would've written something else." I liked the songs that were done which had multiple guitarists, where each guitarist was given a chance to solo - which happened a lot at the festival. Like when Eric Clapton, Buddy Guy, Jimmie Vaughan, and B.B. King all took their turn on Rock Me Baby, and when each of the artists in Clapton's band soloed during a fierce and extended performance of Have You Ever Loved A Woman. Even though it's not really my scene, Steve Vai's performance was at least interesting - he's undoubtedly very talented at the instrument, but I see him more as a showman than a musician. Robert Cray's Time Makes Two was incredibly moving. I love songs that are performed like that, where the pain and sadness is palpable, and you could imagine the artist breaking down in tears just as easily as pouring out another verse or solo. Pretty much the exact opposite of Vai's act. Musically, Jonny Lang's act was alright, but the sheer effort he put into singing and playing was downright impressive. I felt like he was gonna have a stroke or something... I generally steer away from J.J. Cale's influence on Eric Clapton (Cale wrote Cocaine as well as After Midnight), because it's different from the blues material that I like to hear Eric Clapton play, but Cale's playing here was very interesting. Unique, and expressive. When James Taylor came on to do a couple songs, I was totally thinking, "this guy is such a chick musician" - like, you know how there are chick flicks? Well, James Taylor is one of the 'chick flicks' of musicians, if that makes any sense to you. Always good to see Santana play - I envy him for his wicked sustain. I don't know how he does it. It was fun to see Clapton play some Santana-esque licks in homage during the song - I think it's so interesting to hear guitarists playing in the style of other guitarists - not so much when they're stealing an artist's technique, but more as a form of musical impression. John Mayer was expectedly disappointing - I don't even know why he was involved in the festival. Even during his interview, he kept saying these weird things that made absolutely no sense at all. It's like, what? What are you talking about, and who cares? ZZ Top's closing act was pretty cool.
I started reading Living Fully With Shyness And Social Anxiety. There are different sections dedicated to different aspects of the condition. I've read the part on the body - physical symptoms. It's not as important to me as I think the part on the mind will be, since at this stage in my life, I've pretty much extracted myself from most of the situations that give me physical anxiety, and I'm more concerned with battling the psychological ideas that keep me from even going out there, into the world. It was still interesting though. Particularly the part about Shy Bladder Syndrome - the condition of being unable to 'vacate' in the presence of others, for psychological, rather than physiological, reasons. I admit it's something I have trouble with at times. Using public restrooms designed for more than one person at a time is pretty stressful for me, and I try to avoid it whenever possible, sometimes to adverse effect. Especially in college, taking a leak could at times become a rather paralyzing obstacle, when the hall restroom was anything less than empty. The real trouble of it is that you go in there, and if you could get it out right away, then that would be great. But the longer you wait for it to come out, the longer you've been in there, and the more concerned you get at people wondering what you've been doing in there, and then the anxiety kicks in at full power, and you want to hide and pretend like you're not even there - there's no chance for you to either do your business *or* leave. And then you end up waiting, sometimes quite a long time, until you have the privacy necessary to settle your affair.
I find that general situation is a problem with a lot of things - the idea of waiting until the moment's ripe, but the longer you wait, the more awkward it would be to act, and since you weren't prepared to act in the first place, you can't do it now, and then time just goes on and on and it gets worse and worse until you completely avoid what needs to be done. Like answering emails. Sometimes I'll get an email, and I'll be concerned about what to say and how it will be received, so I wait and think about it. And then the longer I postpone sending the reply, the more awkward it would be to send the reply that late. Arg. It happens with all kinds of things. Like telling someone about something. Like telling my dad about Burning Man, that's probably gonna turn out the same way. I'm afraid to tell him about it because I don't know what his reaction will be, and I'm afraid it will be less than 100% positive, which scares me - and even if it's like 90% positive, I'm still too scared about that 10%. So I wait for a good time to drop the issue, and it never comes, and the closer the event gets, the more worried I get about the added stress of mentioning it when it's so close, and the possible flak I'd get for not mentioning it earlier...and it's a vicious cycle of fear and anxiety and avoidance and it just doesn't have a positive outcome. So the best solution - and I can tell myself this, but it doesn't always mean that I can accomplish it - is to take care of these things right away. Cause none of the flak or negative reaction or any of that really matters - if it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen - and the important thing is to get the deed done. The only purpose the fear serves is to prevent the deed from getting done, and once it's done, the fear is pointless. So the best way to get rid of the fear is to just do it. Don't think and don't worry; just do. But obviously that's easier said than done. If I didn't have a problem just doing it in the first place, then I wouldn't have a problem.
In the book, the author talks about what it takes for different people to overcome their struggles. For some people, all the information in the book won't be enough, and for others, just a single point of knowledge is enough to change their whole perspective. Well, after having read that, I'm surprised that I myself have been rather blown away by one minor little detail, that has changed my perspective at least a little bit. It's probably not everything, but it could at least be something. Anyhow, the detail was as follows. Having social anxiety means being overly sensitive to one's reception by other people. You get nervous over the smallest, unimportant details, thinking that the tiniest thing will cause a person to dislike you - and that's the worst possible outcome imaginable. But if you look at the coin from the other side, you see that this sensitivity to people's reactions can be considered a positive trait. You're nervous because you *want* to please people. So why is that a bad thing? Well, it's obviously a problem, but that's because you're making it out to be a problem. But it can also be an advantage, if you look at it from a positive perspective. If I'm nervous about meeting someone for the first time, I can let my anxiety at being accepted cripple me, or I can let my knowledge that I'm only nervous because I want to be accepted allow me to make a conscious effort at being accepted. And instead of using all that energy to monitor my own actions, and to worry about how other people might perceive them, I can use that energy to determine other people's moods, and then react to them to try and make other people feel more comfortable. I almost feel like it's a superpower, which can easily become a burden dragging me down, but if I learn how to use it properly, it could become an invaluable asset allowing me to help people, as well as myself. I think that's an amazing epiphany, and while I still have a long way to go in changing my life, I think it's an important step. Even just the idea, that the book encourages, that being shy is not something to be ashamed of, is empowering. I've alway been afraid to admit to people that I'm shy, despite it being obvious, because I've always looked at it as something to be ashamed of, something that people would naturally tease you about. But it's not necessarily a bad thing. It can be just as much a good thing. It's just an aspect of my personality, of who I am, and it's only as positive or negative as I allow myself to make it. Mindless positive encouragement has never impressed me, but show me facts and reasoning that support a more positive outlook, and well, it just might work...
On Sunday, the fam went out to eat in celebration of my dad's birthday. We went to a fancy Chinese restaurant nearby. The reasoning, as I understand it, is that my dad hasn't had a good plate of General Tso's Chicken in quite a while. He, and the rest of us, I think, were pleased with our meal. I hadn't had Chinese since college, I don't think. And it inevitably reminds me of college. Ordering Chinese with my friends on the hall. Ah, good times. I had my usual - Kung Pao Chicken. It's got a kick, but it's never been too spicy for me to handle (I'd say I'm a middle-weight on the scale of spice-lovers - if light-weights can't handle spice, and heavy-weights love the extremes). The only downside to Kung Pao is that it's one of the dishes with the higher veggie content. But I guess forcing myself to eat the veggies, which aren't too bad, is good for me, and it's worth it to get to the chicken. I also had some delicious wonton soup, and even more delicious pot stickers. A good Chinese meal like that has got to go up near the top of my list of best meals ever. I wish I could find a 24 hour Chinese buffet somewhere in the area. I'm a little disappointed they didn't provide chopsticks (though nobody asked), though it seemed like they might have been a bit too fancy for chopsticks (if that makes any sense). If it wasn't easier to just grab a fork out of the kitchen drawer, I'd definitely want to eat with chopsticks more often in general, no matter what kind of meals. Chopsticks are cool.
I read an article a while back about the changing music industry, and how albums are mixed differently today than they were decades ago - particularly, that they have less dynamic range and are louder overall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war). It's something I noticed when I got Silvertide's album Show & Tell years ago - it's mixed much louder than the average CD I have (considering that my collection consists mostly of albums from the 60's and 70's - although I've heard that some newer remasters or greatest hits collections are also victims of this 'louder is better' policy). But especially now, listening to most of my collection on a shuffled playlist, the difference between the modern and classic albums is striking. Earlier, I had to turn the volume up a bit to hear Jefferson Airplane's Comin' Back To Me - a mellow, acoustic piece - and then after the song, a track from the Stones new album A Bigger Bang came on and it was freaking loud! All the other modern albums I have are loud, too - including Aerosmith's Honkin' On Bobo, Johnny Winter's I'm A Bluesman, and American Minor, in addition to the ones listed above. It wouldn't bother me so much if the volume level was consistent, but the sudden switch from quiet to loud can be rather jarring at times.
My friend linked me to The RPM Challenge (http://www.rpmchallenge.com/) the other day. I hadn't heard of it, but apparently it's a general challenge to musicians to record an album during the shortest month of the year (February). It just so happens that February starts in a few days. I think this would be a positive experience, considering how much I avoid recording. It should be a nice kick in the pants, to force me to produce *something*, in the form of a final version. The idea is for everything to be recorded in February, although whether or not you *write* the songs in February is up to you. That having been said, I think it's truer to the challenge if you write the stuff, or at least develop most of it, within the month. So I've been partly thinking about what I'd like to do for my album, and partly avoiding thinking about it before February. Heh. But I think I wanna do a post-rock type thing. One long track that goes for 35-45 minutes, or however long it turns out to be. I want it to be a little more structured than the improvisation I do every other week at the Open Stage, because that would kind of be cheating for the challenge. So - and this is still a preliminary possible idea - I'm thinking about improvising for at least 35-45 minutes every night once February starts up, then after a little while, starting to work out specific sections. Ultimately, it's not gonna be transcribed note for note or anything, but I wanna have a clear idea of which parts go where, and what they'll sound like in general. And then we'll see what kind of things I come up with to make it interesting along the way. As much as I like the *idea* of studio wizardry, and using multiple tracks for different instrument parts, I think ultimately I'm gonna default toward just recording a single guitar, and just getting whatever I can play, like a live-in-the-studio kind of deal. I may or may not decide to add some words. We'll see, I might even change my mind about the whole thing, but so far, that's my idea, and the closer February gets, the more of a hassle changing my mind will become - though ultimately, whatever I come up with throughout the month, I imagine will be fair game. So it should be interesting, I think, and encouraging for me.
And that brings up another issue I wanted to mention. The fact that, the most important step toward accomplishing something, is committing to it. Because if you're not committed to it, then every little doubt you have becomes a potential reason to quit and back out. But if you've already committed, then your first instinct is to overcome those doubts and problems and barriers, rather than abandoning the project. And an insecure person such as myself will probably (I'm hoping) be surprised and impressed with how much he is capable of. So, I think, in order to accomplish amazing things, I have to commit to them first, or else they'll never get done. Like Burning Man. There are so many if's involved, that if I wasn't committed, I'd spend all my time worrying about it and not preparing myself for it. But having bought my tickets and committed to it, I don't care how much trouble or effort it is, I'm gonna do everything in my power to make it happen. It's like, getting into the mindframe that it's already been determined that it's gonna happen, and the only thing you can do is prepare for it. Whereas, if you weren't committed, then you can still fall back on the possibility of it not happening. And that becomes a crutch. And then it never happens. I think that maybe this could be good advice for other people, too. The most important step toward accomplishing something is committing yourself to it. Just don't be stupid, and make sure it's something you want to accomplish in the first place. And if it is, then once you commit to it, you'll be surprised at your ability to make it happen.
You know, I often think I won't have enough to say about something to make a good blog entry out of it, then when I finally get around to sitting down and writing stuff out, it turns out I have more than enough...
12 January, 2008
Journal 004
I got up today as usual. I made it to dinner just in time to catch an uncomfortable argument between my two brothers. Fortunately, I had no part in it. Basically, my older brother was more or less drilling my little brother on his life plans, while my little brother was pretty much purely on the defensive. It was a frustrating argument to witness, because there was clearly no leniency to be had. My little brother wasn't about to take advice clearly given from the perspective of The Man, and my older brother was clearly not about to give in and concede that any part of my little brother's plans were smart, or right. They were coming from completely different angles, and in my opinion, there was nothing to be gained; I was just glad when it ended. My dad came into the kitchen and asked my older brother a question about some athlete (hockey player?), and my brother got into this whole long discussion, since he's clearly a huge fan of that whole world. Maybe it was purely coincidental, but I have a feeling that maybe my dad was secretly just trying to give my brother something else to talk about, rather than ragging on my other brother. Either way, it worked.
Being the second Friday of the month, tonight was an Open Stage night at the den. Just before eight (I like to be fashionably right-on-or-slightly-past-time), I packed up my guitar and amp and my brother and I hopped into the van for the less-than-five-minute drive up to the den. For tonight, I chose Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada EP, which I got for Christmas, for our listening pleasure. When we got to the den, my brother rushed in ahead of me. As I was walking in, he said we had to go back to get his harmonicas, since he was apparently recruited to jam with the Stickman!
Getting back the second time, the fun began. I got to see the end of The Primatives' opening set (they're the folk rock band that runs the Open Stage). They did Never Again, a song they haven't played much recently, but that my brother has made a habit of covering periodically. And to close, they played All Along The Watchtower, which is one of my favorite covers that they do. It sounded really good. The first time I heard them play that song, it opened me up to a whole new perspective on the meaning of it, and I've appreciated the song even more ever since then. Hendrix's version with the lead guitar is awesome, but I still think The Primatives' version has the most meaning.
My bro played harmonica on Mary Jane's Last Dance with the Stickman and another regular at the den on guitar and vocals. (For the uninitiated, the man known and referred to here as the 'Stickman' is an awesome musician who regularly plays the Chapman Stick - look it up if you've never heard about them before, it's like a combination of a bass and a regular guitar, essentially a guitar with the range of a piano). After that, I paid less attention to the performers, and more to my warming up. When my set came up, I did my regular shtick, with the whole madness thing, this time emphasizing my appreciation for the invention of electricity. A recurring theme in my thoughts of today is the fact that I much prefer electric music to acoustic music. It's always been that way for me. The stinging bite of a good tone is worth everything in this world. And that's to say nothing of feedback!
After the show ended, the core group (consisting of The Primatives and their closest den friends, as well as my brother and I) headed out for a late night snack. This week, it was the local pizza shop which happens to be open till like 2am on Fridays and Saturdays. We had some good old general hanging out, with some good old classic pizza, and then eventually returned home.
My dad and his good friend, who had both been at the Open Stage (the friend also performed - my dad was just there for moral support, and because it's a happening place, I'm sure), were still up shooting pool in the basement, as usual. After my dad beat his friend (like always), he challenged me and beat me in a best 2 out of 3. I also took the chance to ask him if he was interested in seeing Lez Zeppelin - the all-girl Led Zeppelin tribute band - when they come to town in February. I've been dying to see a Led Zeppelin cover band, particularly since seeing the Pink Floyd cover band The Machine, and Lez Zeppelin are supposed to be good. I missed them the last time they came through. I'd love to see it with my bro, but, like usual, it's a 21+ show...
So after that, the house finally quieted down, though it was already about 2am. I've been having a hard time tonight trying to balance my desire to be completely nude with my desire to be warm. It feels a little colder than it has been, maybe because I've been out of the house today. Actually, my first order of business - after getting undressed, ironically - was to take the garbage (just from my own room) out to the side of the house (something I meant to do days ago, but kinda forgot). It was brisk, indeed, but it was quick, so it couldn't hurt too much. Taking the garbage out (in the middle of the night, of course) is actually a great, and practical, excuse for going outside nude - and you can even do it in the cold, since it doesn't take very long! Still, I had to warm up under the covers in my bed for a few minutes after I got back inside. No point in staying overly chilled.
All that remained of the night then was just some reading, and catching up (only slightly) on some anime. So much to do, and so much to be done - and I have no work, no responsibilities! I don't know what to tell you. You might think, "well, if you're so busy anyway, why don't you just get a job and then you'll at least get paid for being busy?!" But it's obviously not that easy. Even though there's tons of stuff to do, it's still stuff I enjoy doing. And more importantly, there's a huge difference between doing my own thing in my own little world, and doing something 'worthwhile' out in the real world. Even if I knew where to begin (and it might be true that I do), there's still the matter of overcoming my fears of going out there...
Being the second Friday of the month, tonight was an Open Stage night at the den. Just before eight (I like to be fashionably right-on-or-slightly-past-time), I packed up my guitar and amp and my brother and I hopped into the van for the less-than-five-minute drive up to the den. For tonight, I chose Godspeed You! Black Emperor's Slow Riot For New Zero Kanada EP, which I got for Christmas, for our listening pleasure. When we got to the den, my brother rushed in ahead of me. As I was walking in, he said we had to go back to get his harmonicas, since he was apparently recruited to jam with the Stickman!
Getting back the second time, the fun began. I got to see the end of The Primatives' opening set (they're the folk rock band that runs the Open Stage). They did Never Again, a song they haven't played much recently, but that my brother has made a habit of covering periodically. And to close, they played All Along The Watchtower, which is one of my favorite covers that they do. It sounded really good. The first time I heard them play that song, it opened me up to a whole new perspective on the meaning of it, and I've appreciated the song even more ever since then. Hendrix's version with the lead guitar is awesome, but I still think The Primatives' version has the most meaning.
My bro played harmonica on Mary Jane's Last Dance with the Stickman and another regular at the den on guitar and vocals. (For the uninitiated, the man known and referred to here as the 'Stickman' is an awesome musician who regularly plays the Chapman Stick - look it up if you've never heard about them before, it's like a combination of a bass and a regular guitar, essentially a guitar with the range of a piano). After that, I paid less attention to the performers, and more to my warming up. When my set came up, I did my regular shtick, with the whole madness thing, this time emphasizing my appreciation for the invention of electricity. A recurring theme in my thoughts of today is the fact that I much prefer electric music to acoustic music. It's always been that way for me. The stinging bite of a good tone is worth everything in this world. And that's to say nothing of feedback!
After the show ended, the core group (consisting of The Primatives and their closest den friends, as well as my brother and I) headed out for a late night snack. This week, it was the local pizza shop which happens to be open till like 2am on Fridays and Saturdays. We had some good old general hanging out, with some good old classic pizza, and then eventually returned home.
My dad and his good friend, who had both been at the Open Stage (the friend also performed - my dad was just there for moral support, and because it's a happening place, I'm sure), were still up shooting pool in the basement, as usual. After my dad beat his friend (like always), he challenged me and beat me in a best 2 out of 3. I also took the chance to ask him if he was interested in seeing Lez Zeppelin - the all-girl Led Zeppelin tribute band - when they come to town in February. I've been dying to see a Led Zeppelin cover band, particularly since seeing the Pink Floyd cover band The Machine, and Lez Zeppelin are supposed to be good. I missed them the last time they came through. I'd love to see it with my bro, but, like usual, it's a 21+ show...
So after that, the house finally quieted down, though it was already about 2am. I've been having a hard time tonight trying to balance my desire to be completely nude with my desire to be warm. It feels a little colder than it has been, maybe because I've been out of the house today. Actually, my first order of business - after getting undressed, ironically - was to take the garbage (just from my own room) out to the side of the house (something I meant to do days ago, but kinda forgot). It was brisk, indeed, but it was quick, so it couldn't hurt too much. Taking the garbage out (in the middle of the night, of course) is actually a great, and practical, excuse for going outside nude - and you can even do it in the cold, since it doesn't take very long! Still, I had to warm up under the covers in my bed for a few minutes after I got back inside. No point in staying overly chilled.
All that remained of the night then was just some reading, and catching up (only slightly) on some anime. So much to do, and so much to be done - and I have no work, no responsibilities! I don't know what to tell you. You might think, "well, if you're so busy anyway, why don't you just get a job and then you'll at least get paid for being busy?!" But it's obviously not that easy. Even though there's tons of stuff to do, it's still stuff I enjoy doing. And more importantly, there's a huge difference between doing my own thing in my own little world, and doing something 'worthwhile' out in the real world. Even if I knew where to begin (and it might be true that I do), there's still the matter of overcoming my fears of going out there...
31 December, 2007
Open Stage (or Performing Madness)
"The only performance that makes it, that really makes it, that makes it all the way, is the one that achieves madness."
- Mick Jagger, from Performance
Though I am a NEET, "nothing" is never a good answer to the question "what do you do?" So the next best answer for me is probably "starving musician" - although, despite not making any money, I'm not technically starving. However, if my 'job' is recording music, then I haven't been to 'work' in months. And if my 'job' is performing for an audience, I only go to 'work' one night every two weeks.
On the recording side of the spectrum, I'm currently in the progress of recording an album - my first real album (Clear As Mud). Completely self-produced, recorded in the comfort of my own room, with only the equipment I own. But I've kind of run into a brick wall, and progress has been halted more or less indefinitely. Mostly because I am insufferably lazy, or if I may shift the blame onto psychology, I suffer from an avoidant personality. But I'm starting to come around to the idea of working with someone I know in their semi-professional studio, to help me record something worthwhile. I figure, getting away from all the mess of trying to record a sound, and just focusing on playing that sound, will help the flow of things immensely. We'll see. I have yet to make a move on that front.
On the performing side of the spectrum, I've been going to a bi-weekly open stage at the local coffee den (hereby referred to as "the den") regularly for the last 3 and a half years or so, except for the time I've been away at college. The open stage is hosted by a really groovy local folk rock band (The Primatives), whom I have become rather friendly with over the past few years. They're incredibly supportive of local and budding musicians (hence hosting the open stage), and they're a very good folk band that rocks.
Back in the summer of '04 (The Summer of Dreams), when the open stage was just being brought to my attention, I started developing my performing chops (if you could even call it that). I got a gig at the den with my brother, who was just starting to play guitar, and we played a bunch of mostly classic rock covers that were admittably rough, but it was all in the name of fun and the experience of actually pulling together a show of our own (though mostly just for friends, and the staff at the den). We called ourselves The Crunge. Since then, we've played a few more shows, though the last one was a little while back. We seem to have moved in somewhat independent musical directions. But, throughout it all, the open stage has lived on.
At first, heck, even now, learning a couple new songs to play every other week was a real pain. Maybe if you're just learning a few chords and some lyrics, like for a Bob Dylan song, that's alright (no offense to Mr. Dylan). But for a guitarist like me, who wants to play killer licks and hot riffs and sultry solos, and didn't really care much about singing, it was a lot harder to come up with something new. Of course, there's always the option of playing the same old stuff over and over again, but I feel like I have to at least try to mix it up. Nobody wants to hear the exact same songs every single time (well I don't, at least).
So I managed to get by, and I learned a bunch of songs in the process, and I generally got more comfortable with going up and playing in front of an audience, which is great. But, that's still pretty much limited to the familiar crowd of the den. There's another open stage nearby, at Empire, but I have yet to make the leap and play there. I tell myself that part of the reason is that, being a guitar store instead of a coffee shop, with the bright lights and the sterile atmosphere, it feels a lot less comfortable than the den. But part of it is undoubtedly the fear of playing to a crowd largely made up of people I haven't played to before. But I guess that's an important step in the process to becoming a performing musician. I mean, what's the point of playing to the same people every day? I'd love to be able to tour the country, or parhaps even the world, and that means playing to strangers every night. But that would assume I had musicians to play with, to bounce my playing off of, and that we actually had something worth playing to people. You can probably tell I don't have much confidence in my talents at this stage.
Sometime during the past fall, or perhaps late summer, I was jamming on electric guitar, just doing random improvised stuff, the stuff I do to please myself, and that I don't really expect anyone else to appreciate. You know, experimental, electric noise. Playing with feedback and stuff like that. I was fooling around with a bow, a la Jimmy Page, getting some neat sounds, and my dad's friend (also a guitarist, though generally acoustic, and more folky than I) remarked that that was the kind of thing I should do at the open stage, to really put on a performance. So hell, I decided to give up the whole song-playing shtick (although by this point I was actually doing fairly well at covering some classic Peter Green songs, and had even been getting compliments on my singing, which is something I've never put much conscious effort into improving), and just plug into the sonic waves of chaos, as a sort of anarchic musical expression.
People were actually impressed. Although there are some that honestly admit that my playing is a little too loud and grating and dissonant - a completely understandable reaction - even they tend to admit that I've got *something* going on, even if they're not quite sure they understand what it is. One time, I even got a request to turn it up! And I've heard that people keep asking about what kind of pedals I'm using, to get the bizarre sounds I can coax out of my guitar, only to be surprised that it's just me, my guitar, and a regular old amp with built-in distortion. It's an exhilarating experience, and the playing is very physical - sometimes even involving smacking my guitar around - so it's quite a workout, and I always feel pretty good after I finish, even though on some nights I have a better opinion of my performance than others.
So what's the trick? Even before a baby learns to talk, it knows instinctively how to scream. That's more or less what I'm doing. I haven't learned all the sophisticated ways to make a guitar talk and say certain things, but I have a lot of musical frustration inside me (mostly because that sort of talent doesn't come naturally to me like it does to my idols) and this is my way of getting it out. The only reason it's any good, I suspect, is because 1) I can actually coax some pretty interesting sounds out of my guitar that tend to make even some guitarists curious, and 2) listening to experimental music, particularly of the post-rock and related varieties, has given me something of an ear for creating soundscapes that vary between the immensely loud and the comparatively quiet. Maybe I actually have something going for me with this new shtick. I dunno, I also feel like I can really only go so far before I've found all the sounds I can make and put them in all the relatively interesting combinations possible after which people will quickly start to get bored. But who knows until that happens, right?
In the meantime, I still have a desire to learn to play guitar the 'right' way, particularly in the form of the blues. It just doesn't seem like I'm anywhere close to making any kind of money out of it, let alone turning it into a career. Still, it's probably one of the things, if not *the* one thing, I'd truly enjoy doing with my life.
- Mick Jagger, from Performance
Though I am a NEET, "nothing" is never a good answer to the question "what do you do?" So the next best answer for me is probably "starving musician" - although, despite not making any money, I'm not technically starving. However, if my 'job' is recording music, then I haven't been to 'work' in months. And if my 'job' is performing for an audience, I only go to 'work' one night every two weeks.
On the recording side of the spectrum, I'm currently in the progress of recording an album - my first real album (Clear As Mud). Completely self-produced, recorded in the comfort of my own room, with only the equipment I own. But I've kind of run into a brick wall, and progress has been halted more or less indefinitely. Mostly because I am insufferably lazy, or if I may shift the blame onto psychology, I suffer from an avoidant personality. But I'm starting to come around to the idea of working with someone I know in their semi-professional studio, to help me record something worthwhile. I figure, getting away from all the mess of trying to record a sound, and just focusing on playing that sound, will help the flow of things immensely. We'll see. I have yet to make a move on that front.
On the performing side of the spectrum, I've been going to a bi-weekly open stage at the local coffee den (hereby referred to as "the den") regularly for the last 3 and a half years or so, except for the time I've been away at college. The open stage is hosted by a really groovy local folk rock band (The Primatives), whom I have become rather friendly with over the past few years. They're incredibly supportive of local and budding musicians (hence hosting the open stage), and they're a very good folk band that rocks.
Back in the summer of '04 (The Summer of Dreams), when the open stage was just being brought to my attention, I started developing my performing chops (if you could even call it that). I got a gig at the den with my brother, who was just starting to play guitar, and we played a bunch of mostly classic rock covers that were admittably rough, but it was all in the name of fun and the experience of actually pulling together a show of our own (though mostly just for friends, and the staff at the den). We called ourselves The Crunge. Since then, we've played a few more shows, though the last one was a little while back. We seem to have moved in somewhat independent musical directions. But, throughout it all, the open stage has lived on.
At first, heck, even now, learning a couple new songs to play every other week was a real pain. Maybe if you're just learning a few chords and some lyrics, like for a Bob Dylan song, that's alright (no offense to Mr. Dylan). But for a guitarist like me, who wants to play killer licks and hot riffs and sultry solos, and didn't really care much about singing, it was a lot harder to come up with something new. Of course, there's always the option of playing the same old stuff over and over again, but I feel like I have to at least try to mix it up. Nobody wants to hear the exact same songs every single time (well I don't, at least).
So I managed to get by, and I learned a bunch of songs in the process, and I generally got more comfortable with going up and playing in front of an audience, which is great. But, that's still pretty much limited to the familiar crowd of the den. There's another open stage nearby, at Empire, but I have yet to make the leap and play there. I tell myself that part of the reason is that, being a guitar store instead of a coffee shop, with the bright lights and the sterile atmosphere, it feels a lot less comfortable than the den. But part of it is undoubtedly the fear of playing to a crowd largely made up of people I haven't played to before. But I guess that's an important step in the process to becoming a performing musician. I mean, what's the point of playing to the same people every day? I'd love to be able to tour the country, or parhaps even the world, and that means playing to strangers every night. But that would assume I had musicians to play with, to bounce my playing off of, and that we actually had something worth playing to people. You can probably tell I don't have much confidence in my talents at this stage.
Sometime during the past fall, or perhaps late summer, I was jamming on electric guitar, just doing random improvised stuff, the stuff I do to please myself, and that I don't really expect anyone else to appreciate. You know, experimental, electric noise. Playing with feedback and stuff like that. I was fooling around with a bow, a la Jimmy Page, getting some neat sounds, and my dad's friend (also a guitarist, though generally acoustic, and more folky than I) remarked that that was the kind of thing I should do at the open stage, to really put on a performance. So hell, I decided to give up the whole song-playing shtick (although by this point I was actually doing fairly well at covering some classic Peter Green songs, and had even been getting compliments on my singing, which is something I've never put much conscious effort into improving), and just plug into the sonic waves of chaos, as a sort of anarchic musical expression.
People were actually impressed. Although there are some that honestly admit that my playing is a little too loud and grating and dissonant - a completely understandable reaction - even they tend to admit that I've got *something* going on, even if they're not quite sure they understand what it is. One time, I even got a request to turn it up! And I've heard that people keep asking about what kind of pedals I'm using, to get the bizarre sounds I can coax out of my guitar, only to be surprised that it's just me, my guitar, and a regular old amp with built-in distortion. It's an exhilarating experience, and the playing is very physical - sometimes even involving smacking my guitar around - so it's quite a workout, and I always feel pretty good after I finish, even though on some nights I have a better opinion of my performance than others.
So what's the trick? Even before a baby learns to talk, it knows instinctively how to scream. That's more or less what I'm doing. I haven't learned all the sophisticated ways to make a guitar talk and say certain things, but I have a lot of musical frustration inside me (mostly because that sort of talent doesn't come naturally to me like it does to my idols) and this is my way of getting it out. The only reason it's any good, I suspect, is because 1) I can actually coax some pretty interesting sounds out of my guitar that tend to make even some guitarists curious, and 2) listening to experimental music, particularly of the post-rock and related varieties, has given me something of an ear for creating soundscapes that vary between the immensely loud and the comparatively quiet. Maybe I actually have something going for me with this new shtick. I dunno, I also feel like I can really only go so far before I've found all the sounds I can make and put them in all the relatively interesting combinations possible after which people will quickly start to get bored. But who knows until that happens, right?
In the meantime, I still have a desire to learn to play guitar the 'right' way, particularly in the form of the blues. It just doesn't seem like I'm anywhere close to making any kind of money out of it, let alone turning it into a career. Still, it's probably one of the things, if not *the* one thing, I'd truly enjoy doing with my life.
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