There comes a time in every one's life where they have to stop blaming others for their unhappiness.
Sure, pop psychology says it's OK to blame your parents for your upbringing, or to blame the bullies who picked on you, or the ice cream man who touched your secret no no place. But seriously...at some point, one must own up to their own life.
If you had a bad childhood...I'm sorry to hear it. So did I. So did most of the people I know. Few of them are total and complete emotional wrecks. Why? Because they took ownership of their own life.
Life is hard. There are NO guarantees except eventual death. (Now doesn't that sound just cheery!)
But...it's what YOU make of YOUR life that counts. To sit back and whine and complain and mope and bitch about how life and everyone in it has done you wrong is just counterproductive.
If for some reason or other you are incapable of coming to grips with life on your own, get a therapist. Or a dog. Or both. If the therapist ain't working, try another one. If the dog pisses on the carpet, learn to clean and learn to house train the dog. Don't complain about it.
Sure, venting is fine. We all need to from time to time. But when some one's entire life is centered on complaining, what kind of life is that?
As part of my faith, I believe in "Love thy neighbor". I honestly and sincerely try to get on with everyone. I can be abrasive, loud, immature, and obnoxious. That's my nature. I'm OK with it. Most folks can tell that I do genuinely care about my fellow humans (and most other creatures). Some don't get me, and guess what...I'm OK with that too. That doesn't make them any less of a person to me. Just means we don't click.
In this day and age, people complain far too much. If I was one to complain, trust me...I could out-complain all of you! My life has been shattered in more ways than I care to think about. For starters, I have a bad ticker, no job, a criminal record that makes it difficult to find work, and a questionable future at this point. And that's just the obvious stuff! If I were to dwell on those aspects of my life, I'd be downright suicidal. But I don't.
I know the problems I have and I actively look for ways to fix them. A lot of them take time to fix. Lots of time. So far, that's one thing I've been blessed with. Time. If you woke up this morning, you've been blessed with time. Use it wisely.
If all you have in your life is misery and complaints, you may want to take a long, hard look in the mirror. You just might be the cause of your own problems. How so? Because you haven't taken ownership of your own life.
Want to be happy? Then fucking be happy! If you surround yourself with people and things that make you unhappy, get rid of them! If you don't, then you're choosing to be unhappy. That's fine too...just don't complain about it. You made the choice. Guess what...you can always change your mind.
Quit looking for the quick fix. It doesn't exist. Stop believing that someone else can fix your problems. They can't. Only YOU can. Most of all, stop complaining. If you have a problem, fix it. More importantly, take stock of all of the good and positive things in your life. Trust me, someone out there cares about you. You might not know it or possibly you're too self-absorbed to realize it...but someone does care. Someone would miss you if you weren't around.
Your past is just that...your past. It doesn't decide your present or your future. You do. Don't hold on to your past problems like an anchor. If you do, they'll hold you down like one. Let go and move on.
Forgive yourself. Forgive others. Easier said than done...but it is do-able. To hold on to anger, hatred, sorrow, misery, etc., is to give up on living your life. If someone has done something bad to you and you allow that action to control your life, you have given that person total control of your life. You have, in essence, become a slave. Most folks I know don't like the idea of being a slave. Do you?
Why am I writing this? Because I know many people who have become enslaved by their past. It ties them down, and rots away their soul. It makes them bitter and vitriolic...and the excuse is always the same. "I had such a bad life!" By remaining angry, bitter, sad, and/or miserable, you're only setting the course for a miserable existence. No one wants that.
Let it go. Take ownership of your life. Take control of your destiny. Fate doesn't control it. You do.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Dive Bar or Shithole?
I am once again in search of a proper dive bar. This is becoming a lot harder than it should be. One would think that with our economy as crappy as it is, dive bars would be doing great business. If they are, no one knows about it! Which could be the secret to their success.
Allow me to take a minute and give my definition of a dive bar. It's not the same as a shit hole. A dive bar was probably once a nice place. Years and years of drinking has gone on in there. Time has taken it's toll. The regulars are old. The place is dimly lit. The booze is cheap. There should be a long, dark (preferably) oak bar with, if possible, a hand-carved (oak) back bar. The bar stools should be well worn. There should be booths. Leather or Naugahyde. A patterned tin ceiling is a nice touch but not a must. Same with cool floor tiling.
The bartender should be old and cranky...not necessarily mean but perhaps nursing some lingering ailment...like lumbago. Nothing life threatening! The barkeep should probably be wary of a new customer the first few times they come in. A gruff "Whaddya have?" should be his/her siren song. He/she should have vast knowledge of drinks like Manhattans, Rob Roys, Zombies, Harvey Wallbangers, etc...but be more accustomed to shots & beers and/or plain ol' highballs.
Music...if any...should fit the aging clientele and the former grace of the establishment. Sinatra, Dean Martin, The Ink Spots, Dinah Washington. If nothing that classy, maybe some old school country...Hank Sr., Merle Haggard, JohnnyFuckingCash! Rock & roll music..if any at all, should be of a period no later than, say, The Shirelles. The music should be kept low enough that patrons don't have to shout. Not that they're saying much....aside from discussing the weather or the ball game.
Neon should be lit and buzzing...but kept to a minimum. A Schmidt's beer sign maybe. Perhaps the Prince of Pilsner himself hoisting a glass in your direction. It shouldn't be cute or kitschy. Just more reminders that time has passed by.
There should be plenty of ashtrays. A real dive bar should be a bit smokey. If you don't like that...don't go there. A dive bar should be reminiscent of years gone by...not the latest fad.
A true dive bar should look the same day after day, year after year, drink after drink...shadows of customers drinking to celebrate or to forget or to sometimes try to remember.
A shit hole is completely different. I'm not saying that one is better than the other...just that shit holes are more common.
A shit hole was probably never particularly nice. It's probably always just been a bar. Nothing fancy. Shots and beers. Maybe the odd 7&7, Long Island Iced Tea, or vodka cranberry...but mostly shots & beers.
The decor can be anything from plain to garish. Paneling with Christmas lights (all year) comes to mind. There should be a steady flow of customers. Not necessarily packed in like sardines but busy enough to keep the place in business.
A shit hole is often louder than it needs to be. Often, a jukebox...lately those irritating internet things...playing music that should probably be outlawed. Loud, brash, repetitive noise. Anything to keep `em drinking and under the illusion of having a good time. A shit hole will probably have karaoke at least once a week. Maybe a band on the weekend...playing more loud, brash, repetitive cover songs that the locals have been clamoring for for decades.
A shit hole will have regulars of all ages...but tends to draw in the young, novice drinker. It's the place the novice has heard about...the place will have a legacy attached to it. "Why, that's where so & so met his 4th wife..." or "If ya can't get laid there ya might as well quit trying...".
Each has it's place in our society. I often hang out at shit holes. Most of us do. But...I'm at a point in life where I need the occasional solace of a good dive bar. Maybe something with an Irish name. O'Herlihy's or something like it. A place where a man (or woman) can drink in peace. A place where one can reflect on life over a cold libation. A place where, if only for a few hours, one can disappear in time.
Allow me to take a minute and give my definition of a dive bar. It's not the same as a shit hole. A dive bar was probably once a nice place. Years and years of drinking has gone on in there. Time has taken it's toll. The regulars are old. The place is dimly lit. The booze is cheap. There should be a long, dark (preferably) oak bar with, if possible, a hand-carved (oak) back bar. The bar stools should be well worn. There should be booths. Leather or Naugahyde. A patterned tin ceiling is a nice touch but not a must. Same with cool floor tiling.
The bartender should be old and cranky...not necessarily mean but perhaps nursing some lingering ailment...like lumbago. Nothing life threatening! The barkeep should probably be wary of a new customer the first few times they come in. A gruff "Whaddya have?" should be his/her siren song. He/she should have vast knowledge of drinks like Manhattans, Rob Roys, Zombies, Harvey Wallbangers, etc...but be more accustomed to shots & beers and/or plain ol' highballs.
Music...if any...should fit the aging clientele and the former grace of the establishment. Sinatra, Dean Martin, The Ink Spots, Dinah Washington. If nothing that classy, maybe some old school country...Hank Sr., Merle Haggard, JohnnyFuckingCash! Rock & roll music..if any at all, should be of a period no later than, say, The Shirelles. The music should be kept low enough that patrons don't have to shout. Not that they're saying much....aside from discussing the weather or the ball game.
Neon should be lit and buzzing...but kept to a minimum. A Schmidt's beer sign maybe. Perhaps the Prince of Pilsner himself hoisting a glass in your direction. It shouldn't be cute or kitschy. Just more reminders that time has passed by.
There should be plenty of ashtrays. A real dive bar should be a bit smokey. If you don't like that...don't go there. A dive bar should be reminiscent of years gone by...not the latest fad.
A true dive bar should look the same day after day, year after year, drink after drink...shadows of customers drinking to celebrate or to forget or to sometimes try to remember.
A shit hole is completely different. I'm not saying that one is better than the other...just that shit holes are more common.
A shit hole was probably never particularly nice. It's probably always just been a bar. Nothing fancy. Shots and beers. Maybe the odd 7&7, Long Island Iced Tea, or vodka cranberry...but mostly shots & beers.
The decor can be anything from plain to garish. Paneling with Christmas lights (all year) comes to mind. There should be a steady flow of customers. Not necessarily packed in like sardines but busy enough to keep the place in business.
A shit hole is often louder than it needs to be. Often, a jukebox...lately those irritating internet things...playing music that should probably be outlawed. Loud, brash, repetitive noise. Anything to keep `em drinking and under the illusion of having a good time. A shit hole will probably have karaoke at least once a week. Maybe a band on the weekend...playing more loud, brash, repetitive cover songs that the locals have been clamoring for for decades.
A shit hole will have regulars of all ages...but tends to draw in the young, novice drinker. It's the place the novice has heard about...the place will have a legacy attached to it. "Why, that's where so & so met his 4th wife..." or "If ya can't get laid there ya might as well quit trying...".
Each has it's place in our society. I often hang out at shit holes. Most of us do. But...I'm at a point in life where I need the occasional solace of a good dive bar. Maybe something with an Irish name. O'Herlihy's or something like it. A place where a man (or woman) can drink in peace. A place where one can reflect on life over a cold libation. A place where, if only for a few hours, one can disappear in time.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Clearing up the Great Gretsch/Rockabilly Sham!
I've had a long-standing friendly argument with a couple of friends about guitars. This has gone on for 20+ years. We're all pickers, and we're all usually lumped under the rockabilly category too. They both love Gretsch guitars. I can take them or leave them. Rockabilly fans have asked me many times why I don't play a Gretsch, which is often associated with rockabilly music.
First, I point out that what I play ain't exactly rockabilly. Sure, there's a definite rockabilly influence...but there's also blues, jazz, surf, garage, punk, country, Tex-Mex, and even some Gypsy & African influences in my music. A Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it. Don't get me wrong, Gretsches have their place and their own, unique sound. But...for a picker who is coming from the afore-mentioned influences, a Gretsch just ain't gonna cut it.
The new Gretsches, mostly reissues, are well-made guitars. MUCH better made than the original ones, which tended to be very hit or miss. Back in the day, one could pick up a nice "vintage" Gretsch for a couple hundred dollars. We didn't call them "vintage" back then. We called them "used" or "second hand" or just "old". "Vintage" is a marketing term. It's used to sell old stuff at ridiculously high prices.
I've bought and sold a slew of Gretsches. I never came across one yet that I wanted to keep. I'd buy them cheap and turn around and sell them as high as I could. 25 years ago, that meant buying for $200-300 and selling for $1500 or so. (I really should've saved some of that money!)
I normally play a Telecaster. It can do anything! Whether I'm playing with my band, playing hired gun backing up someone else, or doing a recording session, my Teles get the job done like no other. To me, they're tools. It's been said that a Telecaster can sound like anything but nothing sounds like a Telecaster. Aside from them, I have a couple of oooold Gibson hollow bodies that I love. They, too, have an amazing array of sounds.
So then where did this "one must play a Gretsch to play rockabilly" myth come from? Most likely, it came from the popularity of Brian Setzer and The Stray Cats. Setzer will most likely tell you himself that he modeled his entire look off of Eddie Cochran (who happened to play a Gretsch). The Stray Cats helped bring about a rockabilly revival in the US for a brief time. Whenever a fad hits, corporations smell money.
By the late 80s, you'd start to see more well-known guitarists playing old Gretsches. I'll never deny that they do look cool. They're just limited (for what I do, anyway). Billy Zoom from the punk band X played a Gretsch. I remember seeing big hair metal guys play them. Hell, The Traveling Wilburys played them! But...that doesn't mean that they're the ultimate rockabilly tone machine.
In the early 90s, Jimmy Heath (aka The Reverend Horton Heat) came along, playing a Gretsch. Why? His main guitar, an old Gibson 175, could no longer taking the beating he was giving it night after night. Old Gretsches were still affordable (but not for long), so he got some of them. I played his guitar...and like most old Gretsches, I hated the neck. Nice sound...crappy feeling guitar though.
So what about the original 1950s rockabilly guitarists? What did THEY play? Well, you're in luck...because I'm about to tell ya!
Scotty Moore could probably be considered the daddio of rockabilly guitar. He was Elvis' guitar play and it's safe to say that this is in the neighborhood of rockabilly ground zero. What did he play? Big ol' Gibson hollowbodies. I've never seen him play a Gretsch. He pretty much epitomized rockabilly twang. 
Carl Perkins embodied rockabilly. I've backed enough of the original guys and so many of them play 
Cliff Gallup was the picker with Gene Vincent's Blue Caps. "Be Bop A Lula" and so many other great rockabilly songs all came out of Cliff and his...GRETSCH! Ha! I bet you thought that I was gonna tell ya no one played one! I fooled you! Some guys did. Just not as many as you'd be led to believe.
Eddie Cochran. "Summertime Blues", "C'mon Everybody", etc...all played on his Gretsch...but...he 
A young man named James Burton caught lots of ears with his amazing playing. He played with Dale Hawkins and was hand-picked to play with young Ricky Nelson. His instrument of choice? A Gretsch? Nope. Another Telecaster player! (the best pickers always opt for a Tele! lol) He's still playing them today!
Paul Burlison was technically the guitarist for the Rock & Roll Trio, but in the studio, chances are it 
Roland Janes was kinda the go-to session guitarist at Sun Records for the rockabilly cats. He played/recorded with the likes of Billy Lee Riley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Hayden Thompson, and Lord know how many others. As this photo from the "Little Green Men" session shows, he played a Strat, not a Gretsch.
How about the twangmaster himself, Duane Eddy? He's been seen playing many Gretsches...mostly 
Link Wray...the God of all things loud & distorted...was not a Gretsch player. Supros, Danelectros, Gibsons, yes. Gretsches, no. Even in his later years, he never played a Gretsch. The last guitar I saw him play was a Squire Stratocaster.
Lastly, Buddy Holly. We can debate another time whether or not he was truly "rockabilly"...but his
Don't be fooled by urban myths propagated by the corporate world trying to sell you a $2000 guitar. If you want to play rockabilly, pretty much any old 2 pickup guitar and a tube amp will give you the sound. Here's a few tips I've picked up from the original cats:
Use both pickups. If you have dedicated volume/tone knobs for each pickup, you can dial in your twang that way. You don't need an expensive echoplex. A used $50 delay pedal will work just fine to get your slapback. NOTE: The original guys had that in the studio. The only ones to have it LIVE in the 50s were Perkins, Moore, Roy Orbison & Elvis (although he had no need for it). They got it from custom built amps...made by Ray Butts. Scotty Moore still has his. Graceland probably has Elvis'. Perkins sold his years ago to a collector. Lord only knows what happened to Orbison's.
Rockabilly guitar is usually best played with a light touch. If you want to be truly authentic, go for a wound G string. Bashing doesn't really work well with rockabilly guitar licks. Unless you're Link Wray.
As for the vast myriad of lesser-unknown 50s rockabilly pickers...chances are they were playing cheap guitars. Kays, Harmonies, Stellas. Maybe the ones who'd been playing semi-professionally had Teles, Les Pauls or Strats. Gretsches were more popular with some of the country guys but by no means all. Lots of the country guys played Mosrites. Joe Maphis & Larry Collins come to mind.
I hope this clears up some of the sham that rockabilly revisionists have tried to convince the world of. Rockabilly was never super popular until The Stray Cats. Main reason being...it wasn't called rockabilly. Sam Phillips, the man who pretty much started it all, hated the word. He'd tell ya, "It's just rock and rollllllll maaannnn!" And he was right. And I'm pretty sure Sam never played a Gretsch either.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Breaking Glass: A few more personal thoughts on music & sound.
(dedicated to my brother & sister noise makers out there!)
I love music. I love sound! All sorts of music and all sorts of sounds! This love, coupled with a natural inclination to make music, is most likely what has led me to be a musician. I've also always been creative, so this has led me to create my own music. I prefer this to recreating someone else's sounds. It's been said that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery...but I just don't get it myself.
My favorite sound has always been that of breaking glass. This might sound odd to many...but if you understand the history of my affinity towards this sound, it makes sense.
The street I grew up on used to be a race track. From what I've always been told, where our house was is right about where the concession stand used to be. Over the hill, in the woods behind our house, were tons and tons of old, empty bottles. For a kid like me, this was a treasure trove! I could break the bottles on rocks, on each other, by throwing rocks at them, hitting them with big sticks...and when I got old enough, shooting them with a BB gun (and later, a pistol).
The sound of breaking glass mesmerized me. It was the sound of "something one shouldn't do"...sort of a taboo sound. It was the sound of destruction...but in that destruction, there was a brief moment of absolute sonic beauty.
Most people probably just hear CRASH when glass breaks. Not me. If you've ever closely listened to the sound of breaking glass, it starts with a very low, vibration that culminates in a high pitched smash. It covers a great deal of the sonic spectrum in the blink of an eye. To me, this has always been wondrous.
As a guitarist, I've long pursued that sound. A deep, low vibration at the core with that almost taboo "crash" at the outer edges of the tone. There have been times when I've nailed it and more times when I haven't. My old Telecaster Deluxe through my long gone old Ampeg amps (1st a Gemini 2 and later a V4) was how I managed it. These, however, required great volume. Anyone who knows anything about sound knows that long term exposure to this sort of volume leads to deafness. High frequency deafness, to be more exact.
My maternal grandmother was deaf (nerve deafness) and the thought of going deaf has always scared me...so I've tried to prevent it...yet still always dancing on that edge of OMFG THAT'S LOUD! When I was 22, I lost most of the hearing in my right ear due to a work-related incident. That scared the crap out of me. But...within a short period of time, I found that keeping the band on the side of my deaf ear kept my good ear sort of protected. We could play as loud as we wanted ("Shake the rafters!" my auntie would always tell me before a show) and I'd rarely have the ol' post show HUMMMMMMM at the end of the night (or the next day).
Throughout my decades of making music, I've learned to love all sorts of sounds. Thuds, thwacks, zings, jingles, jangles, whooshes, growls, whumps...almost anything. Anything except "plinky" sounds. I've never particularly cared for anything that goes "plink".
Case in point: some might hear the high notes on a piano and think they're plinky. They would be wrong. On most pianos, I find those high notes to sound more like fine crystal glasses being clinked together in a toast. A cheap guitar with no real volume behind it...that's plink. It's a short, nasty sound. It doesn't say anything beautiful to me. It's like a truly bad joke, at best.
I'm sure that if I really tried, I could learn to enjoy plinky sounds. Hell, I could probably even find a use for them. As a musician and composer, I reckon sounds the way a laborer reckons his tools. They're what's necessary to get the job done! Drums should go WHACK, THWACK, WHUMP & THUMP! A bass should have a good, solid, woody THUD (unless one is playing funk...then the highly overrated sound "Thwankapoppathwank" is the way to go...otherwise, go for that woody THUD!). Each instrument is blessed with it's own sounds. Mandolins can jangle or honk. Brass bleats, woodwinds breathe and snore, orchestral strings can sing, screech, and any other number of sounds. Cymbals are the poor man's breaking glass. Too much high end. Their sound is almost overwhelming. Cymbals don't share the beautiful low end vibration of breaking glass. This is probably why most guitarists complain about them. Cymbals tend to hog up the high end. That's our job! Gongs, on the other hand....just too cool!
I keep looking for new sounds. The click clack of my fingers typing this out on the keyboard of my laptop is not an unpleasing sound to me...although the sound of 50 pairs of hands, typing away at work can be distracting as hell to me. Yet, I still look for my breaking glass sound when I play electric guitar. It doesn't matter to me if I'm playing something twangy, jazzy, bluesy, or dissonant (I LOVE dissonance!), I still want that breaking glass sound. Maybe a bit less high end, now that my ears are getting a bit long in the tooth (so to speak) but still...I want that low vibration at the core cascading out to treble taboo! This is the real sound of the elusive twaaaaaaang that many search for. It's the sound of breaking glass. And it can scare the hell out of you.
Volume often scares people. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked "Does it have to be so loud?????". The looks in the eyes of the people asking this is FEAR. All fear ever is, is the unknown. Volume grabs people's attention, sure...but for an electric guitarist, it's much more. There's science and technology happening! Those tubes are heating up and the sound become richer, fuller, and well...more IN YOUR FACE at louder volumes.
I remember the first few times I ever dared to play LOUD. I had an old Gibson Skylark Tremolo amp...in all honesty, not a very loud amplifier as amps go...but to an 11 or 12 year old kid, it was a beast! I didn't know if it was going to blow up being played that loud (it eventually fried) but that sound! I was hearing my breaking glass sound coming from the notes of my guitar through that amp! When I was about 13, I'd moved up to a slightly better rig: a brand new Fender Musicmaster guitar and my Ampeg Gemini 2 amp. I thought this was cool until a family friend loaned me his old Guild Starfire 3 electric guitar. MAN O MAN! That guitar, through that amp, played LOUD was the greatest sound ever! To this day, I'm still trying to recreate that sound!
It's all a matter of tones, overtones, undertones, and even "in between tones". Those in between tones are what really get me anymore. Early on, I learned to bend strings...bending notes, chords, you name it. I tried for decades to learn how to play slide guitar....all to get to those sounds in between the other sounds. Western music tends to trap itself in a limited set of notes. There are a lot more out there...and in between the notes we're used to using. Just like the sound of breaking glass...there's so much sound to be heard and utilized!
I could go on for days about this. Hell, weeks, months, years even! This is my lifelong path. Chasing sound I guess you could call it. I'm pretty sure that's what Les Paul said...he was chasing sound. I keep chasing my favorite sound: breaking glass. I get it once in a while. Other times, I get something else...and I'm usually pretty happy with it. I try to stay true to myself and the sounds I hear in my head. I try to unleash them on the world and once in a while, the world enjoys it. The rest of the time, it's just me trying to make these sounds come together in a way that I find pleasing. Like I said, I like dissonance. I love the sound of breaking glass.
One last little personal bit of info: whenever I'm about to do a live performance, I say a little prayer. I ask God to speak through my hands, if He so chooses. Words are nothing more than sounds, structured in such a way that we assign them meaning. They're still nothing more than sounds. Listen to someone who speaks another language laugh or cry. You'll still understand what they're doing and feeling. It's all just sound.
"I use music as a medium to talk to people." - Sun Ra
"The planet is asleep and it's the fault of musicians who are not true to themselves." - Sun Ra
I love music. I love sound! All sorts of music and all sorts of sounds! This love, coupled with a natural inclination to make music, is most likely what has led me to be a musician. I've also always been creative, so this has led me to create my own music. I prefer this to recreating someone else's sounds. It's been said that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery...but I just don't get it myself.
My favorite sound has always been that of breaking glass. This might sound odd to many...but if you understand the history of my affinity towards this sound, it makes sense.
The street I grew up on used to be a race track. From what I've always been told, where our house was is right about where the concession stand used to be. Over the hill, in the woods behind our house, were tons and tons of old, empty bottles. For a kid like me, this was a treasure trove! I could break the bottles on rocks, on each other, by throwing rocks at them, hitting them with big sticks...and when I got old enough, shooting them with a BB gun (and later, a pistol).
The sound of breaking glass mesmerized me. It was the sound of "something one shouldn't do"...sort of a taboo sound. It was the sound of destruction...but in that destruction, there was a brief moment of absolute sonic beauty.
Most people probably just hear CRASH when glass breaks. Not me. If you've ever closely listened to the sound of breaking glass, it starts with a very low, vibration that culminates in a high pitched smash. It covers a great deal of the sonic spectrum in the blink of an eye. To me, this has always been wondrous.
As a guitarist, I've long pursued that sound. A deep, low vibration at the core with that almost taboo "crash" at the outer edges of the tone. There have been times when I've nailed it and more times when I haven't. My old Telecaster Deluxe through my long gone old Ampeg amps (1st a Gemini 2 and later a V4) was how I managed it. These, however, required great volume. Anyone who knows anything about sound knows that long term exposure to this sort of volume leads to deafness. High frequency deafness, to be more exact.
My maternal grandmother was deaf (nerve deafness) and the thought of going deaf has always scared me...so I've tried to prevent it...yet still always dancing on that edge of OMFG THAT'S LOUD! When I was 22, I lost most of the hearing in my right ear due to a work-related incident. That scared the crap out of me. But...within a short period of time, I found that keeping the band on the side of my deaf ear kept my good ear sort of protected. We could play as loud as we wanted ("Shake the rafters!" my auntie would always tell me before a show) and I'd rarely have the ol' post show HUMMMMMMM at the end of the night (or the next day).
Throughout my decades of making music, I've learned to love all sorts of sounds. Thuds, thwacks, zings, jingles, jangles, whooshes, growls, whumps...almost anything. Anything except "plinky" sounds. I've never particularly cared for anything that goes "plink".
Case in point: some might hear the high notes on a piano and think they're plinky. They would be wrong. On most pianos, I find those high notes to sound more like fine crystal glasses being clinked together in a toast. A cheap guitar with no real volume behind it...that's plink. It's a short, nasty sound. It doesn't say anything beautiful to me. It's like a truly bad joke, at best.
I'm sure that if I really tried, I could learn to enjoy plinky sounds. Hell, I could probably even find a use for them. As a musician and composer, I reckon sounds the way a laborer reckons his tools. They're what's necessary to get the job done! Drums should go WHACK, THWACK, WHUMP & THUMP! A bass should have a good, solid, woody THUD (unless one is playing funk...then the highly overrated sound "Thwankapoppathwank" is the way to go...otherwise, go for that woody THUD!). Each instrument is blessed with it's own sounds. Mandolins can jangle or honk. Brass bleats, woodwinds breathe and snore, orchestral strings can sing, screech, and any other number of sounds. Cymbals are the poor man's breaking glass. Too much high end. Their sound is almost overwhelming. Cymbals don't share the beautiful low end vibration of breaking glass. This is probably why most guitarists complain about them. Cymbals tend to hog up the high end. That's our job! Gongs, on the other hand....just too cool!
I keep looking for new sounds. The click clack of my fingers typing this out on the keyboard of my laptop is not an unpleasing sound to me...although the sound of 50 pairs of hands, typing away at work can be distracting as hell to me. Yet, I still look for my breaking glass sound when I play electric guitar. It doesn't matter to me if I'm playing something twangy, jazzy, bluesy, or dissonant (I LOVE dissonance!), I still want that breaking glass sound. Maybe a bit less high end, now that my ears are getting a bit long in the tooth (so to speak) but still...I want that low vibration at the core cascading out to treble taboo! This is the real sound of the elusive twaaaaaaang that many search for. It's the sound of breaking glass. And it can scare the hell out of you.
Volume often scares people. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked "Does it have to be so loud?????". The looks in the eyes of the people asking this is FEAR. All fear ever is, is the unknown. Volume grabs people's attention, sure...but for an electric guitarist, it's much more. There's science and technology happening! Those tubes are heating up and the sound become richer, fuller, and well...more IN YOUR FACE at louder volumes.
I remember the first few times I ever dared to play LOUD. I had an old Gibson Skylark Tremolo amp...in all honesty, not a very loud amplifier as amps go...but to an 11 or 12 year old kid, it was a beast! I didn't know if it was going to blow up being played that loud (it eventually fried) but that sound! I was hearing my breaking glass sound coming from the notes of my guitar through that amp! When I was about 13, I'd moved up to a slightly better rig: a brand new Fender Musicmaster guitar and my Ampeg Gemini 2 amp. I thought this was cool until a family friend loaned me his old Guild Starfire 3 electric guitar. MAN O MAN! That guitar, through that amp, played LOUD was the greatest sound ever! To this day, I'm still trying to recreate that sound!
It's all a matter of tones, overtones, undertones, and even "in between tones". Those in between tones are what really get me anymore. Early on, I learned to bend strings...bending notes, chords, you name it. I tried for decades to learn how to play slide guitar....all to get to those sounds in between the other sounds. Western music tends to trap itself in a limited set of notes. There are a lot more out there...and in between the notes we're used to using. Just like the sound of breaking glass...there's so much sound to be heard and utilized!
I could go on for days about this. Hell, weeks, months, years even! This is my lifelong path. Chasing sound I guess you could call it. I'm pretty sure that's what Les Paul said...he was chasing sound. I keep chasing my favorite sound: breaking glass. I get it once in a while. Other times, I get something else...and I'm usually pretty happy with it. I try to stay true to myself and the sounds I hear in my head. I try to unleash them on the world and once in a while, the world enjoys it. The rest of the time, it's just me trying to make these sounds come together in a way that I find pleasing. Like I said, I like dissonance. I love the sound of breaking glass.
One last little personal bit of info: whenever I'm about to do a live performance, I say a little prayer. I ask God to speak through my hands, if He so chooses. Words are nothing more than sounds, structured in such a way that we assign them meaning. They're still nothing more than sounds. Listen to someone who speaks another language laugh or cry. You'll still understand what they're doing and feeling. It's all just sound.
"I use music as a medium to talk to people." - Sun Ra
"The planet is asleep and it's the fault of musicians who are not true to themselves." - Sun Ra
Saturday, April 27, 2013
It's Been A Good Year For The Roses
We just lost George Jones. After the life he lived, the fact that he made it to 81 is almost unbelievable. Booze, pills...an all-around rough life. He always looked like he enjoyed it though. His face was pockmarked and etched with lines and he often looked rode hard and put away wet...but he always seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes. That's a look you can't fake. No matter how you live your life, you SHOULD enjoy it. Lesson learned, I guess.
Most folks will probably remember him for the song "He Stopped Loving Her Today", which is an amazing song. "The King Is Gone (And So Are You)" has always been my favorite George Jones song...but one that you should give a listen to, I think, is "It's Been A Good Year For The Roses".
Penned by songwriter Jerry Chestnut, only George Jones could ever, in my ears, do this song justice. It's a country heart breaker for grownups. Sure, Elvis Costello had a hit with it too...but as good as his version is, it pales in comparison to the Possum's version.
In the song, George sings about his wife of three years, intimating that she's leaving him. He never says for sure that she's going or where or why...but he intimates it. The most the listener knows about her is she smokes, drinks coffee, she just packed something, and turned to walk away. That's it. When he sings the line "After three full years of marriage, it's the first time that you haven't made the bed", his voice breaks...just a bit. Whether by design or sheer studio luck, that line, for me, defines the entire song.
It's a man's song. A man too stubborn and/or proud to beg the woman he loves to stay. Or perhaps a man who loves his woman so much that he can't stand to make her unhappy another day and knows that he can't change who he is, so he lets her go.
This song is from the point of view of a man who outwardly has always been strong and house proud. In that generation, the man worked and brought home the money that built and kept that home. Nowhere in the lyrics does he ever say a bad word about her. The marriage was just over...at least for a time. There was nothing left to say...except maybe "I love you, please stay"...but those were words a man of that generation had a hard time saying.
If you've never been married, you'll never fully get the power of Jones' singing on this track. If you've ever gone through a separation or divorce, this hits dangerously close to heart and home.
George Jones had a lot of hits over the years and this was merely one of them. But it's a good one and it will probably stand the test of time. Maybe it's not as poetic as "He Stopped Loving Her Today" but it could serve as the prequel to the man in that song. The ol' Possum must've known a thing or two about heartbreak to be able to sing these songs so genuinely.
I never got to see George Jones perform. I always wanted to though. I just didn't want to get to the show and find out that No Show Jones had struck again. I've always heard he was a great performer. Oddly, of all the people I know in Nashville and show business in general, not a one of them knew Jones personally. They may have worked with him or had occasional dealings with him...but none were close to him. It's always made me wonder what was going on inside that man. I guess we're never likely to know....but it's been a good year for the roses anyway.
Rest In Peace Possum!
Most folks will probably remember him for the song "He Stopped Loving Her Today", which is an amazing song. "The King Is Gone (And So Are You)" has always been my favorite George Jones song...but one that you should give a listen to, I think, is "It's Been A Good Year For The Roses".
Penned by songwriter Jerry Chestnut, only George Jones could ever, in my ears, do this song justice. It's a country heart breaker for grownups. Sure, Elvis Costello had a hit with it too...but as good as his version is, it pales in comparison to the Possum's version.
In the song, George sings about his wife of three years, intimating that she's leaving him. He never says for sure that she's going or where or why...but he intimates it. The most the listener knows about her is she smokes, drinks coffee, she just packed something, and turned to walk away. That's it. When he sings the line "After three full years of marriage, it's the first time that you haven't made the bed", his voice breaks...just a bit. Whether by design or sheer studio luck, that line, for me, defines the entire song.
It's a man's song. A man too stubborn and/or proud to beg the woman he loves to stay. Or perhaps a man who loves his woman so much that he can't stand to make her unhappy another day and knows that he can't change who he is, so he lets her go.
This song is from the point of view of a man who outwardly has always been strong and house proud. In that generation, the man worked and brought home the money that built and kept that home. Nowhere in the lyrics does he ever say a bad word about her. The marriage was just over...at least for a time. There was nothing left to say...except maybe "I love you, please stay"...but those were words a man of that generation had a hard time saying.
If you've never been married, you'll never fully get the power of Jones' singing on this track. If you've ever gone through a separation or divorce, this hits dangerously close to heart and home.
George Jones had a lot of hits over the years and this was merely one of them. But it's a good one and it will probably stand the test of time. Maybe it's not as poetic as "He Stopped Loving Her Today" but it could serve as the prequel to the man in that song. The ol' Possum must've known a thing or two about heartbreak to be able to sing these songs so genuinely.
I never got to see George Jones perform. I always wanted to though. I just didn't want to get to the show and find out that No Show Jones had struck again. I've always heard he was a great performer. Oddly, of all the people I know in Nashville and show business in general, not a one of them knew Jones personally. They may have worked with him or had occasional dealings with him...but none were close to him. It's always made me wonder what was going on inside that man. I guess we're never likely to know....but it's been a good year for the roses anyway.
Rest In Peace Possum!
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Privacy
Meriam-Webster defines privacy as:
Makes sense, right? We all like our privacy, right?
More interesting are the words considered to be synonyms of 'privacy':
Synonyms: aloneness, insulation, isolation, secludedness, seclusion, segregation, separateness, sequestration, solitariness, solitude
Related Words: loneliness, lonesomeness; vacuum; confinement, incarceration, internment, quarantine; retirement, withdrawal; ghettoization
Funny, no one ever wants to be alone. Everyone is always searching for that special someone. Usually, they want to find that special someone so the two of them can go do certain things in private! That's when one really wants privacy!
But, it's the 3rd definition of privacy that I think most Americans think of. Secrecy. No one ever wants their secrets told. Why not? Just what is it that people are doing in private that needs to remain such a secret?
If it's sex...I got news for ya...it's not a big secret. It's how we ALL got here. (except for the test tube babies and maybe Sarah Palin) Pretty much everyone I know wants sex at some point. That's no secret.
Are people perhaps ashamed of who they're having sex with? Again...why? If someone turns you on and the two of you get to bumping uglies...good for you! While it doesn't warrant a parade, I, for one, am thrilled that someone finds you special enough to get naked with. If you enjoyed the sex, or at least the situations that led up to the sex, why would anyone want to hide from those facts?
Perhaps people are doing things that they shouldn't...and that's why they demand so much privacy. Shame could well be the root of this need for privacy...especially online.
If you're doing something that you feel ashamed of, you may want to ask yourself why you're doing it in the first place. Sure, YOU may enjoy it...but can these actions, acted out in private or in the belief that one can expect a level of privacy, can these actions hurt someone...perhaps someone you care about, if these actions were to come to light? If that's the case...why do them? One wouldn't necessarily spit in the face of someone they care about or call them rude names...so why do "private things" that could hurt someone?
Perhaps these private acts involve things like gossip, or perhaps even a matter of questionable legality. Someone is bound to get hurt if the facts of those so-called private matters came to light. Gossip and lies hurts people. Illegal activities hurt people (there truly are no victimless crimes). So why do them? If you're not doing something that will hurt someone else, why the need for privacy?
Don't get me wrong. I'm a pretty private person. I have no shame for anything I do nor is anything I'm doing likely to hurt anyone, I just don't always like people. I grew up in a household with 3 siblings (who I love dearly)...but I had to get really good at hiding things lest I lose them. My one brother in particular...if I hid $5 somewhere in my room, he'd find it. And take it. That was hurtful to me. I'm not a materialistic person...never have been...but sometimes I was trying to save up for something...perhaps for someone else. That's what always irked me.
Privacy can also just mean a little peace and quiet. I really like that sort of privacy. Being able to sit in the backyard in my underwear while drinking some beers...now that's my kind of privacy! While the sight of me in my guchies may not be the prettiest sight in the world, it's yet to kill anyone or leave them blind, paralyzed, or even queasy. It may even get a laugh.
So ask yourself why you need so much privacy. What is it you're trying to hide...and from whom? Yes, we Americans have certain rights to our privacy...but really, how much privacy is really a good thing? Just something to think about........
M
1 a: the quality or state of being apart from company or observation : seclusion
b: freedom from unauthorized intrusion
b: freedom from unauthorized intrusion
2 archaic: a place of seclusion
3 a: secrecy
b: a private matter : secret
Makes sense, right? We all like our privacy, right?
More interesting are the words considered to be synonyms of 'privacy':
Synonyms: aloneness, insulation, isolation, secludedness, seclusion, segregation, separateness, sequestration, solitariness, solitude
Related Words: loneliness, lonesomeness; vacuum; confinement, incarceration, internment, quarantine; retirement, withdrawal; ghettoization
Funny, no one ever wants to be alone. Everyone is always searching for that special someone. Usually, they want to find that special someone so the two of them can go do certain things in private! That's when one really wants privacy!
But, it's the 3rd definition of privacy that I think most Americans think of. Secrecy. No one ever wants their secrets told. Why not? Just what is it that people are doing in private that needs to remain such a secret?
If it's sex...I got news for ya...it's not a big secret. It's how we ALL got here. (except for the test tube babies and maybe Sarah Palin) Pretty much everyone I know wants sex at some point. That's no secret.
Are people perhaps ashamed of who they're having sex with? Again...why? If someone turns you on and the two of you get to bumping uglies...good for you! While it doesn't warrant a parade, I, for one, am thrilled that someone finds you special enough to get naked with. If you enjoyed the sex, or at least the situations that led up to the sex, why would anyone want to hide from those facts?
Perhaps people are doing things that they shouldn't...and that's why they demand so much privacy. Shame could well be the root of this need for privacy...especially online.
If you're doing something that you feel ashamed of, you may want to ask yourself why you're doing it in the first place. Sure, YOU may enjoy it...but can these actions, acted out in private or in the belief that one can expect a level of privacy, can these actions hurt someone...perhaps someone you care about, if these actions were to come to light? If that's the case...why do them? One wouldn't necessarily spit in the face of someone they care about or call them rude names...so why do "private things" that could hurt someone?
Perhaps these private acts involve things like gossip, or perhaps even a matter of questionable legality. Someone is bound to get hurt if the facts of those so-called private matters came to light. Gossip and lies hurts people. Illegal activities hurt people (there truly are no victimless crimes). So why do them? If you're not doing something that will hurt someone else, why the need for privacy?
Don't get me wrong. I'm a pretty private person. I have no shame for anything I do nor is anything I'm doing likely to hurt anyone, I just don't always like people. I grew up in a household with 3 siblings (who I love dearly)...but I had to get really good at hiding things lest I lose them. My one brother in particular...if I hid $5 somewhere in my room, he'd find it. And take it. That was hurtful to me. I'm not a materialistic person...never have been...but sometimes I was trying to save up for something...perhaps for someone else. That's what always irked me.
Privacy can also just mean a little peace and quiet. I really like that sort of privacy. Being able to sit in the backyard in my underwear while drinking some beers...now that's my kind of privacy! While the sight of me in my guchies may not be the prettiest sight in the world, it's yet to kill anyone or leave them blind, paralyzed, or even queasy. It may even get a laugh.
So ask yourself why you need so much privacy. What is it you're trying to hide...and from whom? Yes, we Americans have certain rights to our privacy...but really, how much privacy is really a good thing? Just something to think about........
M
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
A Tale of 2 Couples
I am currently in my longest relationship ever. 5 years together. I'm 47. I've learned what not to do in a relationship. I think I've finally, after much trial and error, learned what makes a relationship work. Some folks are lucky and find the right one early on. This is a story about 2 such couples.
Beth & Ray were high school sweethearts. I was friendly with them both but not extraordinarily close. You could tell they dug each other. After graduation, I didn't think I'd ever see them again and wasn't particularly heartbroken. Nothing against them...they're both great people. Life just took us in different directions.
Fast forward nearly 30 years. I heard from Beth online. It's always nice to hear from someone from an earlier part of your life. You play catch up and see where life took that person. Much to my pleasant surprise, Beth and Ray got married, raised a family and have been living the dream, so to speak. I am, honestly, truly happy for them.
Now there's another couple I know, from high school, who are still together. When these two met, it was obvious that they were made for each other. Two more blissfully boring people were never born! They were both good friends of mine in school, and among friends, we all joked that warm milk was too exciting for them. Their names are Dan & Randy. They've been together for over 30 years now. Still happy. Still blissfully boring as hell. Nice house in a nice suburb. Boring jobs. Come home, peck on the cheek, dinner, a little TV, maybe a beer. Again, living the dream.
The only differences are simple: Beth & Ray were able to get married. Dan & Randy currently still cannot. Are their levels of commitment any different? Doesn't seem so to me. 3 decades together is 3 decades together. Beth & Ray raised a family. Dan & Randy don't have kids of their own. That's really about the only difference.
So why all the fuss about gay marriage? If two people are willing to spend their lives together, let them.
Beth & Ray were high school sweethearts. I was friendly with them both but not extraordinarily close. You could tell they dug each other. After graduation, I didn't think I'd ever see them again and wasn't particularly heartbroken. Nothing against them...they're both great people. Life just took us in different directions.
Fast forward nearly 30 years. I heard from Beth online. It's always nice to hear from someone from an earlier part of your life. You play catch up and see where life took that person. Much to my pleasant surprise, Beth and Ray got married, raised a family and have been living the dream, so to speak. I am, honestly, truly happy for them.
Now there's another couple I know, from high school, who are still together. When these two met, it was obvious that they were made for each other. Two more blissfully boring people were never born! They were both good friends of mine in school, and among friends, we all joked that warm milk was too exciting for them. Their names are Dan & Randy. They've been together for over 30 years now. Still happy. Still blissfully boring as hell. Nice house in a nice suburb. Boring jobs. Come home, peck on the cheek, dinner, a little TV, maybe a beer. Again, living the dream.
The only differences are simple: Beth & Ray were able to get married. Dan & Randy currently still cannot. Are their levels of commitment any different? Doesn't seem so to me. 3 decades together is 3 decades together. Beth & Ray raised a family. Dan & Randy don't have kids of their own. That's really about the only difference.
So why all the fuss about gay marriage? If two people are willing to spend their lives together, let them.
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