Five Ways Back to Inspired Practice

Remember what it was like when you first started playing the guitar and experienced those first doses of success? Everything was so exciting and new and you just wanted to play, constantly! You didn’t need to be taught how to practice. You already knew. You played simply because you loved the instrument and the sounds it made. However, at some point - and I know every player will corroborate - the relationship takes an unexpected turn. The once blossoming, idyllic, love affair begins to fade. A transformation occurs; one where practicing becomes a chore. Why does this happen? And when it does, how do we find our way back to the original inspiration and joy?

Over the course of some twenty odd years as a guitar instructor, one of the main recurring questions I hear from students is, “How do you practice?” Usually, this question is indicative of some larger underlying issue; a student’s temporary loss of direction (motivation) due to a plateau being hit (stalled progress). The “you” in this question is really “I”. And they are looking for a way out of a rut; a how-to guide plus more, because they understand the bottom line: If you don’t practice, you won’t get better, and the rut will deepen.

As guitar players, falling into a rut is a condition we all face sooner or later. We approach a breaking point of tedium, where everything sounds the same, and lack of motivation rules the day. The good news is the remedy to such a condition exists in simply modifying a few elements of, or approaches to, your practice routine. In this article I will answer the “How do you practice?” question by laying out five of my own  philosophical and pragmatic strategies that I have used over the years, and still use, to great effect in helping me find my way again; out of my own ruts back to inspired practice. They can help you too.

Now, I am not pretending to impart any ancient-secret wisdom here, as I am certain countless teachers have similar advice and will have plenty to add to this enduring and crucial topic. It is simply my hope that I offer a new, or at least refreshing, perspective and that my personal insights - based on years of experience and observations – that will show you, the student, how to merely redirect and refocus your efforts, to help push you over the fundamental obstacle that is inhibiting your progress; the inability to practice. So, how do you practice? Allow me…

Make a Plan – Before you even pick up your guitar, create a few clearly defined goals that you want to accomplish. Perhaps you will focus on a specific set of tunes, a single tune, or a section, no matter, just keep the goals simple and direct. Do not make a time commitment, only plan for accomplishment. Work in short bursts and take breaks. A lot can be accomplished in such frequent, focused, and short sessions. This strategy helps to ward off tedium and to rebuild momentum.

Just Start – Feeling so burned out that you can’t come up with a plan? Well, then just start playing. Play something you are comfortable with whether it is your favorite piece or chord progression, a familiar picking pattern, scales, whatever, just something that is easy and will get you playing in an unthinking manner.  Forget about goals. Be patient and allow yourself to settle into a groove. This exercise will get your hands and mind in tune, warmed up, and put you in the zone so to speak. You’ll be surprised by where you land and where you will want to go next.

Change Course – Stop working on your current projects and try something new. Explore some new repertoire, new chords, new techniques, new tunings, a new musical genre, even a new guitar. All of these changes will force you into new territory. You will learn, you will expand your horizons, you will revitalize your older material, and you will be inspired to practice.

Just Don’t Practice – Sometimes the best way to practice is to not practice. This strategy is more of a meditation. I call it hands free practice. Take a break. Take a walk. Find some other prolonged alone time to review your technique, rehearse some pieces, or try to solve some particularly difficult passages; using only your mind. Try to see and hear all of the details. You’ll be surprised how much clarity will be added to your playing the next time you pick up your guitar.

Return to the Beginning – Sometimes it is necessary to come full circle as a player in order to move ahead. As you become a more advanced guitarist, progress becomes harder to detect. What used to be easy giant steps become more demanding smaller steps, and that perceived lack of progress can be a source of frustration. This is the time to take a look at what you have accomplished so far.  This is the time to revisit some original sources of inspiration. This is the time to remember why you play the guitar in the first place. Remember what you love about the instrument. Recall those early feelings of exhilaration, excitement, and joy. Take the time to appreciate the freedom and the limitless possibilities of expression.  Remember the joy.

Leaving the Twilight Zone

As a kid, in the summertime, I enjoyed a comfortable nightly ritual - watching the Twilight Zone reruns on TV. Every night, at 10:00PM I was free to drift with the surrealism that ignited my imagination. I felt safe entering the Twilight Zone. During this time, I would often crack open a window to allow the outside ambient noise additional space to move and mix within my basement sanctuary where I lived. I loved the summer air, the sounds, and the black and white images. Everything was where it needed it to be.

As I stepped out of the studio the other morning, preparing to face another day, I was compelled to turn back and snap the photo you see above. Something about the composite of objects caught my eye. What you see in this image is my place of work; yes, another sanctuary of sorts. See those guitars? Nothing can penetrate that force field. Everything is surrounded by deep green and according to some color theorists: "Green has strong emotional correspondence with safety." This my modern twilight zone. I am comfortable here. Everything is where it needs to be.

Now that I am embarking on an old-new (and exciting) path - formal education - there are many more structured demands presented before me, adding to my already busy work-family life. I have many more deadlines that are forcing me to work in a new way. I can no longer rely on my own structured/non-structured way; a freelance schedule is comparable to no schedule. My time perception is altered and I am being pulled out of my comfort zone; my twilight zone. 

I heard an interesting interview with Garrison Keillor the other morning on MPR. One caller asked - from one freelance worker to another - how he goes about scheduling his work day and inquired about his writing routine. He responded - I am paraphrasing of course - that he works from roughly 4:00AM until noon every day (when he is at home) and that you cannot underestimate those precious hours before the rest of the household wakes up. Also, any problems or tensions you went to bed with seem to be magically suspended during those twilight hours. I get that. I can relate. I am now back to my own 5:00AM wake up call...5:30 after a few snoozes.

Mr. Keillor also went on to describe his writing methods while traveling and accounted for his prodigious output week after week given his busy schedule. He has learned to work on the fly so to speak; in any free moment, in any hotel room, while waiting in the lobby, in a restaurant, where and whenever just to keep the momentum going. This is what I need to develop - a spontaneous work ethic and not having to rely on everything being just so before I begin to write. I need to leave the twilight zone; my comfort zone. 

Today, tomorrow, and now, that is what I am doing. But first...

What's My Age Again?

On January 11, 2012, I turned 41. The day before, Van Halen released the first official single from their forthcoming album, A Different Kind of Truth, with original singer David Lee Roth. The last album with Roth, 1984, was released on December 31, 1983. I was 12 then.

I am a fan of the band. No doubt. However, they have not been as profound an influence on me as say, Rush or the Replacements, but I have been looking forward to this reunion with just as much anticipation as the rest of the fans. At heart, I am part classic rocker.

I have listened to the new tune about 50 times now, always left with a different reaction; mostly unsettled joy.

As a musician, aging rock stars have always been the most stark reminder to me of how fast time moves and that I too, am getting older. As a father, watching my daughter grow up has usurped this reminder, but I digress...at the age of 12, who cares? At 41, everything matters. Time to get moving.

Watching Van Halen's new video is like observing the ruins of a magnificent temple - be it Angkor Wat, the Sphinx, Delphi, or whatever - you can still kind of see how opulent and powerful it was back in it's day. Now, it is just a hollow shell, an outline, a sketch, and you yearn and try so hard to make it as it was - by way of imagination or sheer will power. Both methods fail, though imagination can be relatively effective.

A feeling of disappointment can rule, but you know what? When observing such edifices there is still much magic and beauty to behold. The same can be said about an aged - and relatively ancient - rock band. Rock solid foundations are the last thing to crumble.

But here is one big difference: We have seen and can still see bands in their prime. YouTube. That is where you can get stuck. The current past is never that far away. One URL, a few search words, a few mouse clicks, and there is your time machine. To be sure it can be a dangerous, yet exciting trip to reality.

What does this all mean? I am not sure.

Today it is January 12, 2012. I am 41.

Rallentando...Lento.

A gradual slowing of tempo...slow.

I have recently received a few e-mails asking me, "What's up with your blog?" I appreciate the inquiries and it's very nice to know that people are reading my articles. Apparently, I have an audience. So what IS up?

After about a year and half or so - since my last CD, Many Moods, was released - I have taken my foot off of the gas pedal. No longer in a full court press of self-promotion and all the generally unpleasant (from my perspective) details that go along with that process. I am sick of myself (see the irony here?). I have not come to a stop per se, certainly not a Fine, just a gradual slowing of tempo. Moving on to a new section? A new development? A recapitulation? Or, a new piece altogether? I haven't figured it out yet.

Every few years I am handed an exceptional show that ends up being a peak performance of the time. This year, it was an opening spot for Adrian Legg at the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis. It was an absolutely wonderful evening in every respect. I was on top of my game and certainly felt that while my playing took a leap forward (upward?), it also felt like the final show of my current stage; the end of this particular epoch. Time to regroup and move forward. I must reiterate, it was positive in every respect, however, with any peak performance comes the inevitable decompression period - the "post-show blues" as many performing musicians know all too well. It happens every time. The higher I fly, the harder I fall. This particular decompression period continues to linger.

So, currently I AM regrouping and moving forward though at times struggling to keep up.

I am still playing most days, keeping the chops functional for the handful of shows I have this Summer and Fall.

Really loving the new work I have taken on for Hal Leonard.

Every week marveling at the progress my students make.

Ready to run another half marathon.

Working on posting more blog articles as I continue to develop my writing.

And, certainly, I am very much looking forward to spending some super high-def - 3D quality time with the family this Summer.

Speaking of which...every night I think about how fast Sadie is growing up. I am both thrilled by how well she is doing and saddened as I see her gradually drifting away - becoming more independent and needing Daddy less and less. Nothing new. I know. Just need to figure out how to hang on to the sweetness a little longer.

Rallentando...Lento.

A Step by Step Guide to Writing a Tune (sort of) - Part II

I present you with Part II (and the conclusion) of my first vlog entry which offers some insight into my composition process. Here is a  link to Part I in case you missed it! I often video myself to help remember the ideas - both good and bad. Also, since the writing is often spread out over several months, or more, it is a solid reference point to get me back to the essence of the tune in process. I hope you find this amusing and somewhat insightful. I have.

 

Time for a change of pace. I have established a pretty solid and consistent groove up to this point. Here, I am pretty much playing off what has already been established, but, slowing things down and re-arranging some notes. This is what will become the C section and will open up some space for a little improvisation later on.

 

The missing link. I needed a way to get out of the breakdown and establish a connection back to the intro. It is a slow build back to the main groove with some slight melodic variation.

 

Frustration sets in. After spending several hours (days) on a piece, things can tend to get muddled and oddly worse before it all gets better. I hate these moments but thoroughly believe they are a necessary part of the process. It really challenges you to believe in what you are creating.

 

 Sewing together the B-C-D and sections. Now all I need is...

 

...the end.

I will post a performance of the completed tune next month on my YouTube channel. Thanks for viewing, reading, and listening!

A Step by Step Guide to Writing a Tune (sort of) - Part I

I present you with my first vlog entry which offers some insight into my composition process. I often video myself to help remember the ideas - both good and bad. Also, since the writing is often spread out over several months, or more, it is a solid reference point to get me back to the essence of the tune in process. I hope you find this amusing and somewhat insightful. I have.

 

The gathering stage where I record the initial ideas soon after discovery. This is what will be the Intro and the A section of the tune. 

This is one of many searching stages. It is the initial process of developing the tune after landing on the hook. Just brainstorming and trying to figure out where the tune is going to go. This is the infant stage of what will become the B section.

Distractions. The initial process of writing this tune was accomplished sneaking away while Sadie (my daughter) had friends over. At the end of this clip you will hear the tune Footloose cranked. They were playing a game they called, "Let's annoy Daddy". An apt title. Also, I have no idea why there is a shirt draped over my shoulder.

The next morning after the initial gathering. Here you will see more searching and a hefty dose of WTF?

 

Starting to gel now. The tune is starting to come together as I clarify the parts and start to assemble a form. This is the Intro - A section - B section. Also, I had just installed my new webcam. Looks and sounds sooo much better.

I often drink coffee while I write. I often need to drink coffee while I write. Especially when I am stuck. To be continued...

In Praise of the Background Gig

For the concert guitarist, a background gig is a grind. They are a work of necessity, well paid functional playing, essentially, music as a service. Period. Whether it be a restaurant, wine bar, cocktail party, etc. it is no place to concertize, to express your art, or to push your product. You play among endless chatter, feeling ignored, playing but not being heard, filling the cracks between conversation or becoming a conversation piece for the awkward couple. In fact the only attention you usually get from such a gig is to be interrupted mid-tune by someone asking a question, "Hey! Is that a Martin yer playing there?" As I attempt to maintain the music, I may nod (sometimes I stop suddenly just to make a point), then the comments continue, "Yep, sure sounds like a Martin to me! Should have known by the sound!" (Yep, it has nothing to do with me mister. It's all the guitar.) After 3 hours of this, it can tear up anyone's fortitude, especially the fragile guitar man who needs to be listened to, who desperately needs to be understood.

When I finished the final piece of a recent gig (playing background music for a formal dinner), a funny thing happened; the patrons applauded. This wasn't applause as in, "Well thank God THAT'S over with!" No, this was appreciation. Appreciation for the service that I had provided. I think this was the first time I have EVER been applauded for my work at such an event. So what went wrong? These people didn't care what I was doing, they didn't listen, they don't even know my name! You know what was different? I cared and I listened. I guess they did too in a different way.

For years I have had a dismissive attitude toward such events grumbling my way through to the pay check. But more recently I am just happy to be working. My ego has stepped aside (or at least is on a break) and I have learned to embrace the background gig, to get out of myself (no easy task), to look up and survey the scene, and realize there is a lot of value to be found among the chatter.

I embraced this particular gig from the first note forward and I committed myself to my playing. It was not all about ME after all (guitarists are so arrogant), it was about the music and about them, the diners who were there to enjoy the evening with their friends, families, or lovers. They were into the night and I was into providing good vibes. I was adding value to the experience.

I noticed the joy around me and, lo and behold, the joy of playing! I was in the zone and playing for real. I mean, how may times have I checked out at the midpoint? Not on this night. I was fueled by the occasional tapping foot, the smiles sent my way, the food, the wine, and the warmth. When I paused - between tunes - there was a noticeable change in the dynamic of the room. I was in control and I too was having fun.

What are those silly sayings? "Dance like no one is watching!" "Work like you don't need the money!" Maybe I have a new one: "Play like no one is listening!" or rather,  "Play like everyone listening!" or maybe just "Play like one person is listening!" No bother. Just play and mean it. By giving the people an honest effort, you just might get what every sensitive performer needs, maybe, you will get some applause.

Snowbound State of Mind

Snowbound, looking down, drifting all around, white and falling. 
Cold wind blowing, can't see but the two feet in front of me. 
One foot in front of the other, heavy, falling down, incomplete, melting as I move, freezing as I stand. Snowbound, looking up, drifting all around, white and falling.
Deep, deep, snow, one foot in front of the other, one step more. 
My shoulder aches, my head aches, my soul sings to the music flooding my ears. 
The job will be done.

Five days a week, for five years early on, I participated in the ritual of the working man. My paper route; a time of solitude and a time of learning. "How many pages today?" was the foremost question as I approached the daily drop of newspapers. The number of pages determined the workload, determined the weight on my shoulders, and determined the pain. The cassette in my Walkman determined the pleasure. It always got me through.

Delivering newspapers in the dead of a Minnesota Winter was a perfect crash course in preparing me for the hard lessons and sweet rewards of working as an independent artist. Today, as I decompress from the end of a relatively major project - organizing, and performing at, the MN Guitar Society Acoustic Guitarathon - I observe the snow drifts piled up outside my window. I am revisiting the paper route in search of the focus needed to move forward with the next round of projects. Getting unstuck and getting on to the next round of work can be overwhelming. I am feeling snowbound as the projects keep drifting. Just figuring out where to begin is a challenge, but, it is best, to simply begin; beginning with this blog entry.

Walking along all of those early formative years I found strength in solitude. I was getting a taste of the long and lonely work of writing. It is an odd rhythm. A slow, step-by-step pace where progress is often barely perceptible. Yet, you have to keep moving forward to get the job done. Self-discipline and self-reliance is all you have as you face the inevitable obstacles of inclement weather, overstuffed papers, late papers, lost papers, incomplete ideas, and the occasional warm blast of inspiration; from the Dentist office on the corner. Just enough to set up your next move. It was a process of adaption. It was also an exercise in repetition and dealing with the sameness of day-to-day routine, even when I don't feel like it. Finding the necessary optimism is key. And where did I find the optimism? In the music. Under the headphones. The music always got me through.

And of course there is the sweet reward of hard labor paying huge dividends: the euphoria accompanying a solid day's work and feeling productive, the more tangible money (for the papers) and the even more direct music (for all), that hopefully will inspire another young laborer, learning some hard lessons of his own, trudging through the snow, delivering his papers, writing his songs, his soul singing to the music.

Blog entry complete. On to the next project. But first, the headphones...

My Writing Manifesto

Tell it like it is.
Get to the point.
Speak the truth.
Real emotion will carry the piece, the work, the art.
Focus.
You can never be too specific.
Read out loud.
Listen.
Rhythmic flow and variation.
Ask questions.
Reduce the clutter.
Re-write again.
Every word must have a function.
Check your logic.
Make sense.
For now, no one else exists.

'Twas the Winter of '86

How do I write music? I am never sure how to answer that question. However, I do remember the first time I realized that I can write music. 'Twas the Winter of '86, when we started rocking the house...

My first attempt at writing music occurred sometime in the Spring of '81. It happened late one Saturday afternoon, during my post bowling league ritual, where I would retreat to the cool confines of the basement and watch Grizzly Adams on the TV (a ritual that still persists today minus the bowling and Grizzly Adams). During this time, I would often monkey around with my first real acoustic guitar; a $10 model purchased by my father at a flea market. Classic. Without knowing how to play at all, I figured out how to tune the strings to an open chord. I could strum them without placing any fingers on the fretboard and a sweet sound would ring out. Technically, I suppose, this was also my first foray into the world of alternate tunings (fellow guitarists know what I am talking about). Soon, I strung together a few chords - by fretting couple fingers at a time - and spun out some lyrics with a mountainous, all around nature based, theme (it should be noted that John Denver was a big influence on me at the time). I have no idea how many verses I wrote, if there was a proper chorus, or what, but I know that I recorded the tune on our portable cassette player and played it for a neighbor friend. I think she told me that I was bragging, so, that was the end of my songwriting career for the time being. God, what I would give to find those lyrics, that guitar, and that tape.  

Winter in Minnesota is when life begins. The onset of long dark nights, short days, and a two week break from high school. This was December, 1986. And I fell into a new ritual: afternoon band practice, eating Little Debbie Star Crunch snacks, and my paper route. I had joined up with two other local musicians, Marc and Rick, to form a kind of side power trio. Our mission: to write original music. We had come to know each other around the periphery of what was the music scene of Rochester, MN. Marc and I played together for one gig, in a punk band, a year or so prior, and I knew of Rick as a consummate drummer who played with various groups around the area. After some holiday party, followed by a cruise down Broadway, I ended up sitting next to Marc in someone's car. "Hey man, how's it going?" "Good. You still playing?" "Yeah." "Me too. We should get together and jam sometime."  "Cool. You know any good drummers?" "Yeah, I know this guy named Rick." "Oh yeah, I know who he is." The following week, we assembled in Rick's bedroom, and thus began our musical odyssey.

Over the course of two solid weeks, working almost everyday, we crafted more than a half dozen original tunes. Marc had come to the table with almost all of the completed song structures - basic chords, melodies, lyrics - and they were all amazing. Collectively, we polished them and added our own parts and personalities. There was quite a diverse mix of musical styles and influences at work, but we were united as a creative force. We clicked, and for the first time, I understood chemistry. We were a band. Even this early in our development, our roles within were defining themselves, at least in my mind: Marc (lead vocals, guitar) was the raw talent, spontaneous, a funny brooder, the soul, and the bringer of ideas. Rick (drums) was pure energy, literate, a studied musician, and the fire. Me (bass, vocals)? I was also the studied musician and the arranger of ideas. I was the guy who would help mold Marc's songs into a tighter framework, you know, the verse - chorus effect, maybe flesh out the instrumental ideas, etc. Basically adding a level headed smoothness to his more erratic approach. I was the boring guy. Taking credit from no one, and giving credit to all, this was a truly collaborative approach - all souls being equal. We formed a deep, yet volatile bond, and an enduring friendship.

For the most part, as I stated, I was acting as an arranger; adding where needed, reducing where needed, but I had yet to arrive with a song of my own. Save for my Grizzly Adams era, I had never really completed an original piece of music. Contributing as a component of the band setting was an important step in gaining confidence to do so however. Marc had a book of WH Auden poems, and, (not being unable to write lyrics at the time) one particular entry, entitled But I Can't, grabbed me, so, I set out to adapt it to a piece of music. That evening, I strung together all of the coolest sounding chords I knew on the guitar, hummed a barely  intelligible melody over the top, conformed the poem to a lyrical rhythm, and there it was, my first (second) tune. I played it for the guys, shaky with much hesitation, but, they loved it (though, Rick did refer to one of my vocal cadences as sounding like Barry Manilow, not exactly a compliment given the context). At least, that is how I remember it. In fact, the song was actually well liked by many who heard it thereafter. I never liked it though (a continuing theme to this day). Finishing that tune was a key moment in my development. As self-deprecating as I can be, I acquired an odd confidence in my ability. I could write music. 

The culmination of our two week effort was a cassette recording of our masterworks (I do have this one!) and we decided to call ourselves, Canadian North. A very cool name in hindsight. I think it was Rick's idea? We continued on from there - eventually changing our name to Watercolor Sky -  for a couple of years, wrote many more songs, enjoyed some success, but ultimately fizzled out due to the onslaught of real life and the demands that go along with it. You could call it a microcosmic implosion. A typical ending.

When I reminisce, the soundtrack I often conjure up in my mind's ear is the Bryan Adams tune, The Summer of '69. Our version, of course, is The Winter of '86. When I look back now, that Winter did seem to last forever. Were those the best days of my life? No way, but there is no escaping the reverie of such days gone by, and it cannot be replaced or lost. Life has taken many sweet turns since then, but, that encapsulated moment, on the cusp, before the real world began, we were on top of it, and, for two weeks, we ruled.
That year, I learned that I can write music. 'Twas the Winter of '86.

Recommended Reading

Occasionally friends will ask me what I am reading and/or for book recommendations. So, I decided to write a brief summary of the latest titles that I think are exceptional - moving, thought provoking, enlightening, educational, and all that. For what it's worth, this is what I got:

Roadshow: Landscape With Drums: A Concert Tour by Motorcycle - Neil Peart

Written by the master, Rush drummer and lyricist, Neil Peart. I could go on and on about this book. I have lately been calling myself a born again Rush fan as, after a nearly 10 year on again off again hiatus, I have been reintroduced to, and re-inspired by, their music all over again. I mean, these guys were a seminal influence on me as a musician. Now, Neil has become influential on my prose writing as well. This book - his fourth - is pieced together from a series of journal entries while on a concert tour with the band. Neil rides his motorcycle between all of the dates - eschewing the usual band tour bus regimen - exploring the back roads and small towns of the US and Europe. Known as being fiercely protective of his privacy, the book is a surprisingly revealing account of his life on the road. There is no gossip here, just observations, personal ruminations, and descriptive essays. Part travelogue, part memoir, part method book, overall, a very insightful, literate account of his experience as one of history's greatest rock drummers traveling with one of history's greatest rock bands.

Me, the Mob, and the Music: One Helluva Ride with Tommy James & The Shondells - Tommy James & Martin Fitzpatrick 

Lent to me on a whim by a neighbor, I only had a vague impression of who Tommy James is at the time. Oh yeah! The guy who wrote Mony, Mony and Crimson and Clover. However, his story is deeper and much more convoluted than his classic hits will have you believe. Scooped up by the mob ruled record label, Roullette Records, at a very young age, he was soon under their thumb. You can imagine all of the rock-n-roll cliches that would come of such an arrangement. All of the lascivious trimmings are included - drugs, sex, money, violence, etc. (Fun fact: The record label head, and mob boss, Morris Levy, was the model for the Sopranoes character, Herman 'Hesh' Rabkin.) And of course, Tommy was never paid his proper royalties and over time, he lost millions and millions of dollars. The good news is Mr. James is ultimately redeemed. It is a fun read and also an interesting take on the music industry at large during the 1960s - 70s.

Autobiography of Andre Agassi: OPEN - Andre Agassi  

One of my heroes. I have always felt a certain kinship with Andre. My wife makes fun of me for that. After reading his book, that feeling has only increased. So, writing an objective summary is very difficult. Even if you are not a fan of tennis, or Andre, you will enjoy this book. The tennis stuff is interesting, sure, but more so, it is a revealing story that exposes Andre as a far more complex, at times troubled, human being - very much at odds with the image that we all know. I found it oddly comforting that despite all of his success and rewards, he was never fully at peace with himself. He was always searching for the real Andre, the better Andre, even when he was the best in the game. The good news, like Tommy James above, he too finds his redemption.

When I Stop Talking, You'll Know I'm Dead: Useful Stories from a Persuasive Man - Jerry Weintraub

I would love to meet Jerry. Talk about a media tycoon. This guy has been a manager, agent, producer, directory, promoter, movie mogul, and on and on for over 50 years. He has worked with so many giants of the industry: Elvis, John Denver, George Clooney, Frank Sinatra, etc. that he is now a veritable giant himself and just loaded with wisdom acquired from such an amazingly rich life. This is a true by the bootstraps success story and truly inspiring. Written in a perfect conversational style, it is a slick read with tons of parables and insight into the entertainment business at large. I want to read it again as there are so many life lessons to be learned from this old wise man. The final quote in the book is really the perfect summary:  I was never afraid to fail, which meant I was never afraid to try. I was never afraid to look silly, which meant I was never threatened by a new idea. I see the road ahead, too, a stretch that bends into the undergrowth. I do not know what will happen there, but I do know, whatever it is, I will rush to meet it with joy.

Lilac - Helm Matthews 

I know Helm from the music scene of Rochester, MN some 20 years in the past. He his also known as Ted. I picked up his first novel a few months ago and I am duly impressed. It is a well formulated story - emotionally gripping, relatable, grounded in realism with a hint of Twilight Zone overtones. The perfect kind of balance in storytelling that I find to be most compelling. Here is the brief review I sent his way:  I am no literary critic, so, I won't try to say anything profoundly insightful, but, GREAT book. Seriously impressive. It is very well written - a tight, concise, right to the point (to the emotions most importantly), well told story. When I had time to settle in, the pages just kept turning on their own. Consider me a fan and I am spreading the word. I look forward to your next work. Also, makes me want to visit Winona again! Was cool to connect with all of the MN references as well.

A Scenic Overlook

Fall 2010: I traveled North to the shores of Lake Superior, South to the bowels of Kansas, East to the reminiscence of Milwaukee, and then West to the rest stop. Yes, the rest stop. A destination unto itself. A perfect punctuation point to conclude this series of road trips, or road work, as I prefer to call it.

All of this road time was solo and a somewhat measurable exercise in brain development, i.e. a lot of time to reflect and process and create and plan. Time in the past I have hated, but this time, it was different. I actually found a lot of joy and self-fulfillment during the long hours of solitude. So much so that I began to wonder if my true self is actually the guy on the road, the guy who takes the bold step of leaving the cocoon, mildly rootless, venturing out to the relative wild to work, and advance life on his own terms. 

Now, of course, I say this not at the expense of anything. I think the thing that actually has made these trips easier is that I am able to maintain a closer home connection by way of cell phone, text messaging, e-mail, ubiquitous wi-fi, and so on. All combined, they help ease the loneliness, to lighten the dark shadows that follow along with the miles. They unclutter the mind for purer musings. Without those lifelines, it would be quite a different venture. And, in the end, as satisfying and necessary as these brief times of solitude are, both for personal and musical growth, it is always an even greater joy to come home. I guess maybe I am not that guy.

The last of the series was a trip to Milwaukee to complete work on a DVD project for Hal Leonard Corporation. I have driven that long stretch of highway, I-94, Minnesota to Milwaukee and back again, a hundred times or more. And, as the common story goes, the drive is about consuming the miles, getting from point A to point B as fast and efficiently as possible, essentially, to get the drive over with already! However, this trip (and on my previous trek to Kansas) I took a different tack. I stopped a few times, took a few moments, and just did my best to enjoy. After all, it was in the peak of Fall, my favorite season, the weather was consistently glorious, and I found the expansive rural landscapes to be mesmerizing.

Shooting the DVD project was a grueling process. The day was long, having to play perfectly and speak generally off the cuff without error for nearly 9 hours in total. The shoot was staged under the bright, persistent gaze of the studio lights (I can now see how interrogations can be so disorienting and successful) and it took everything I had to stay in character the final two hours. When it was done, I felt like I had climbed Mt. Whitney all over again. I was left drained with a complete loss of perspective on what I had just accomplished. As per usual, in my mind, I could have, should have, done so much better. I often get so wrapped up in my own head, self-critical to a detrimental effect, rarely, if ever, do I enjoy the process of a work in progress. Ditto for my life at large.

On the drive back home, heading West, I paused at a rest stop just outside of Black River Falls, WI. This particular rest stop caught my eye as it also offered up a scenic overlook. I found the path that led to said overlook and began to walk (first having to ditch the internal clock pestering me to get home) and just kept walking some more. The paved path led into a wooded area which ultimately converged with a kind of boardwalk right through the trees. Besides the hum of the neighboring highway, it was very peaceful. And I was alone.

After what must have been about a 1/4 mile stretch, I reached the scenic overlook - a still pretty swath of picked over trees as far as the eye could see. Despite the somewhat arid condition of the foliage, there was a lot of beauty to behold. Another mesmerizing landscape and an obvious metaphor - the scenic overlook that was my life and work for the year. Yep, this was a good old fashioned stopping to smell the roses moment, actually seeing the forest despite the trees so to speak. The DVD work was suddenly intoxicating, a realization of a job well done, and I extended that feeling of good will to the work over the course of the year and to my life in general. I actually started feeling right about what I was doing, had done, and do have. From this vantage point I saw the blessing that is my family, I saw my good health, I saw my friends, and on and on. I surveyed the scene, the scenic overlook of my life and work so far. And what a stunning landscape it is.

Winfield Performance Review: An Interior Monologue

i am cool as a cucumber uncomfortably cool clammy is becoming me you can do this be the man japanese kids rule the day don't do the collapse am i in tune? smiling happy man confidence is fleeting that guy is playing a really long time number 34 there is a fan folks in kansas are very friendly 3 hours later don't talk feedback all i hear is my foot stomping stop steady steady steady breathe where's the sound? hey eric i enjoyed our chat you played very well bad note bad notes missing notes too much bad ending try again 2 chances to make it well this greek food is not sitting too well text messages what a clean horse barn pete huttlinger is watching me folks in Iowa are very friendly made some new guitar friends youtube faces come to life judges hear everything judges focusing on my weaknesses my weaknesses win pat kirtley played a fine set you against you brother and 39 other players caught off guard did i turn off my phone? i was ready relax release who am i? don't think feel you are the man a prepubescent guitarist where did i go? last tune better than the first but not good enough completely utterly deflated beautiful landscapes saved me i miss sadie sparse but attentive crowd I miss my wife folks in missouri are very friendly yesterday was a long day today was a long day tomorrow is going to be a really fucking long day objective sidecar walk off stage left bow look cool job undone that wasn't so bad nah it sucked don't think i will return next year perhaps i will.

Wax on. Wax off.

I got cocky this weekend. Or, rather, I should say, careless. New Roots Duo had two shows, one a.m. and one p.m., and I have no excuses for a poor showing in the morning. Okay, as usual, though not usually in a public forum, I am pretty hard on myself. I have spent much time on this blog expounding on the beauty of transcendent playing; the spiritual, existential, metaphysical, blah, blah, blah, experiential moments that occur in live performance. See my previous article here.

Now, I feel it is my duty to expound on the other extreme. I hadn't rehearsed, or even touched, the duo material since our last show together which was....I am not sure (still no excuse). When I opened my case, I had  to confirm that the baritone guitar still had six strings attached. This Summer, due to my familial and professional obligations, any rehearsal time that was allotted to me was spent on my solo gigs (still no excuse). See my previous article here.

But hey, no big deal right? Dan and I have tackled numerous gigs with zero run-throughs and always found a way to pull it off; often with exceptional results. I still believe in allowing time and space for the music to grow. Time away from the guitar can be very productive and valuable, but, not too much time. So, what's one more shot in the dark? A big miss. A fat zero. Fortunately, it was a very laid back show (a farmer's market), and the only people I was really letting down were myself, and worse, my musical compadre Dan. Sorry Dan.  (I would like to take a moment to ensure the readers that Dan played great at both events.)

From the moment we kicked off I was unfocused and really had very little idea what I was doing. I mean, a certain amount of muscle memory and a well trained autopilot can carry you through, but, that is just enough to get from the start to the finish; point A to point B without crashing. I did everything I could to get myself on track, listened, tried to concentrate, people watched, turned away and then toward the sun, tried to find amusement in toddler's dancing, engaging people who walk up and talk to you in the middle of a tune, "Hey, what tuning is that?!", a woman requesting her favorite tune from the CD, sitting down right in front of us to listen, then realizing it was the wrong tune, smelling the food, and, even watching my shadow for clues. That turned out to be the most useful device.

Dan was his usual easy going self, " Don't worry man, it's good to be on the edge. That is when magical things happen." I remarked, "Sure, that is true if you can ultimately pull it off." It can also be disastrous. Okay, I am being a little over dramatic. It was not that terrible. As I already mentioned, it was just a farmer's market. We often use such gigs as rehearsal (sorry music coordinators). But, still, a performance is a performance and I need to be there 100 percent and give it my full attention, my full effort, every time. That is what a professional does. It is not fair to Dan, in this sense, perhaps even more so, to myself, and even more so, to the music. Lesson learned. I guess I will never stop learning these so called lessons.

We (I) made it through and the morning was done. The great irony of it all was, we sold more CDs than we ever have at this particular farmer's market. It is a phenomenon I have experienced countless times over the course of my performing career; the worst shows always sell the most product. WTF? Just demonstrates how subjective this performing thing is, the internal perception anyway, and, I guess in all reality, I really have no clue.

Fortunately, the evening's gig was something else all together. My head was in the right space, still on edge, but magical things did happen. See my previous article on the topic here.

The rust was abated. Wax on. Wax off.

Time to get to work.

Goodbye August. Goodbye Summer.

It appears we have entered the long dénouement into Fall, then...fade to black. Yep, the Minnesota State Fair is in full swing which is the ultimate symbol of Summer's demise. So be it. I am ready for Fall but have really enjoyed the past few months...more so than I ever have. I actually was successful (sort of) in my efforts to embrace the sun, though, many evenings were comfortably spent in the basement recovering. I was lucky enough to enjoy several vacations, tons of quality family time, and now, it is time to reflect a bit and get ready to move forward. It's not quite over yet though! In fact, I started writing this in between grill check points.

Reflecting:

I played a few fun shows this Summer with two exceptional stand out performances: The annual Lake Harriet gig with New Roots Duo and my new favorite solo venue up at the old Historic Inn at Itasca State Park. Dan and I always find a way to rock the bandshell. Itasca was a serene setting with a relatively large and enthusiastic crowd AND all of that old historic inn wood just sounded amazing! It's so easy to play when you are surrounded by good vibrations. I am going to video this one next year.

The precious free work time I had was spent playing the guitar, of course, and I must emphasize the word playing. It was an absolute joy to sit down periodically for spontaneous practice sessions; short bursts of inspiration that yielded surprising results. I will expound on this experience in a later article. Anyway, it was a welcome relief to the usual overly focused intense 'gotta get something done!' sessions which dominated the previous year. I think I am on to something. And, I no longer wake up at 5:00AM to work.

Moving Forward:

I have been working up several new solo guitar arrangements of pop tunes from various eras. This is not a concept that has necessarily been planned and carried forth. It's just what has been showing up at my door. See my previous reference to playing and joy. Not sure if it will lead to another immediate project or not. If so, it will be an odd duck - perhaps 1/2 arrangements and 1/2 new compositions. Talk about a mixed up muse.

I am also very much looking forward to regrouping with New Roots Duo. We have some solid shows coming up, some new music, and are hoping to record a few singles later this Fall. I head to Milwaukee sometime in October to tape a session for a new instructional DVD that is being released by Hal Leonard Corporation. It is not exclusively my instructional DVD but rather I am one of the featured acoustic personalities in the series. More on this later as well. Needless to say, it is a fine opportunity.

I am hoping to play live more this coming year, maybe hit the road more often, beginning with a trip down to Winfield, Kansas later this month to compete in the International Fingerstyle Competition. Why I submit myself to such abuse I will never know. A born hedonist, I suppose I need a counterweight. Perhaps there are some masochistic tendencies hidden within. It will be interesting to see what goes down. My playing style isn't really designed to win competitions but this is an opportunity to showcase in front of a large and selective audience. Hopefully I will make some new, more far reaching, connections as a result. If I escape the experience with my ego still intact, I will count it as a victory.

Yes, another time of transition is upon us. A time to look back, a time to look forward, and time to stay present.

 See you later in September!

On Technique

What is technique? I like this Merriam-Webster definition the best:

A method of accomplishing a desired aim.

Developing and refining one's guitar technique is a lifelong evolution and absolutely essential to becoming a proficient player. Every day I am reminded of this while working with students or working through my own practice routine. There is always something to be changed, added, deleted, fingerings to manipulate, postures to adjust, flexibility and fluidity to be maximized, motion to be minimized, and, all in all, it is the necessary grind to facilitate the most glorious end: making powerful music.We, as players, particularly finger-style or classical guitarists, spend endless hours obsessing on and developing our technique as a means to communicate our music in the most effortless manner possible. We try to knock down all of the physical impediments so as to allow the metaphysical elements the requisite room to sing out.

I remember two specific instances quite early in my development as a guitarist when I first learned the importance of developing a strong, solid, technical base. Back in those days, the early 1980s to be sort of specific, experiencing music was still predominantly an aural experience. Some of the most profound musical developments for me occurred as I would lay on the ground, headphones on (and plugged into the turntable), eyes closed, listening deeply. What the players were doing at this time - or the method in which they were accomplishing their most awesome aim - was left up to my imagination. I would hear Leo Kottke play all of those notes, so fast, so loud, so soft, and thinking to myself, 'How is one human, with presumable only two hands and 10 fingers, able to produce so much sound'? I would hear Geddy Lee whipping off these crazy fills, and riffs, and again, inhuman feats. 'How in the Hell'!? These guys have got to be moving a mile a minute and there extremities HAVE to be running wild! Right? Wrong.

And then I saw each man perform. What a revelation! As I studied their hands I could not believe the economy of motion each exhibited, I mean, relative to the notes being produced, their hands were barely moving. I could hardly tell what they were doing as all motion was so extremely limited; extremely compact as they navigated the fretboard. Lesson learned. Efficiency of motion is so key to effective communication. I had my work cut out for me.

I am sure that these guys still practice. I believe any true virtuoso does. Not just for writing purposes, to produce new material, but I am willing to bet that each still obsesses over ways they can improve their respective abilities and still work things over and over again. Even at the highest levels of mastery, there is still something higher. However, the first steps require long disciplined practice and self-analysis. From the beginnings to the desired end, a strong, solid, technical base is absolutely fundamental and essential. If something is difficult to play, chances are, your technique is a bit unstable and just needs to be tweaked. Get used to it. Keep working. You are only getting better.

And always remember the desired aim: making powerful music.

Summer Fancy and Mindless Practice

Just before the Summer blast set in, I rediscovered a long forgotten technique for practicing my guitar; TV practice. Yep, that's right. You plop down on the couch, flip through the channels, find a bad program, and let the aimless wandering begin. I can't tell you how many compositional ideas I have stumbled on this way over the years. This sort of exercise facilitates mindless practice, an altered state if you will, where the subconscious rises to the top and assumes control. Now, I am in no way advocating this method as your PRIMARY practicing routine, it is just a way to shake up the grind and allow the whimsy a little space to groove.

For me, with the limited time that I have, the tendency is to get bogged down by the time crunch and fall into the required regimen of having to work on this piece or that in preparation for this concert or that recording. As a professional it is very easy to forget how to 'play' the guitar. Since I am in full time Dad mode for the Summer, my free (and work) time has been drastically depleted (all for the great), however, when I do have time to practice, it has become my freedom to explore, to alleviate the pressure, and to unwind. The usual persistent, disciplined practice has been temporarily put on hold, and the pure fun has returned. I tell you now, this expanded space has only benefited my playing. A little bit of letting go can go a long way. Try it.

TV practice can also turn the redundant repetition of working on a particularly difficult passage or technique into a very effective and efficient routine for improvement. When you pull away that intense, focused attention, things fall into place in the most unexpected ways. I often think of a classical guitarist I new in college. He went on to study at Juilliard and ultimately became a GFA (a very prestigious guitar competition) winner, and  he played the most flawless scales I ever heard. He was an occasional TV practicer. I would be willing to bet that there are many more top flight players out there who have employed this ancient technique.

Of course these days, you have a massive library of bad TV, reality shows, movies, and scattered media, at your fingertips by way of YouTube, Hulu, Netflix, and the like. The possibilities are endless and there is no excuse for not getting something done. So, take a break, and get down to some serious mindless practice.

I got a ton done late the other night watching this...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C51ggwdkFeI

What's Happenin'

Back in Buffalo 
I was lucky enough to spend three (all too quick) days visiting an old friend back in Buffalo, NY last week. It is one of those friendships that are quite divided by time and distance but remains close nonetheless. I flew in, played a quick featured set at a local open stage, yes, I flew 1000 miles to play at an open stage, not really, but it was just a last minute thing at the last minute. And, I will say what a blast it was! The place was packed (I know of no other such rockin' acoustic joint on a TUESDAY night in the Cities) and had a total rock club ambiance. I took the stage with no time to think (or sound check) and played my ass off. Somehow, I turned the surrounding noise into silence (because the patrons were listening NOT because they all left) until the end. This was an electric feeling I haven't felt in a while - playing out of my mind with a complete sense of abandonment. Many lessons to be learned here and I will expound on them in a later article.

The next two days we spent recording at a new friend's studio - I played secondary guitar on my buddy's developing vocal project entitled, Distant Songs. Again, a quick hit, but we definitely rounded out some beautiful sounds that day, we just need more time to really dig in. Hey, I guess the Internet and home project studios will have to fill in the gaps. His project definitely has some new momentum and I look forward to working on more tracks to see it all to it's conclusion. Additionally, I now have a new favorite guitar that is owned by someone else: A Martin 0-45S Stephen Still Limited Edition Guitar. It almost found it's way into my flight case, but no, thou shall not covet another man's guitar...or something. 

And then, we attended a solo Neil Young concert at the Shea's Buffalo Theatre. The venue? Stunning. Neil? Mesmerizing. I won't even attempt to describe such an ethereal experience, it's impossible, but it definitely has left a permanent etching on the inspired zone of my brain, and heart. As an unforeseen bonus to the night, Bert Jansch, one of the godfathers of finger-style guitar opened the show. So thrilled to add one more great to the 'seen live' list.

The LOST Finale
 Well, it was what it was and is what it is. I, like many millions, have been anticipating this for months. I have also, like many millions, gave up on this show months ago. If you went into this final program with no expectations to get any answers on most everything, like I did, then, I believe it was a very emotionally satisfying conclusion to one of the best TV series of all time. The final scene, particularly the final few seconds, were very powerful and so beautifully shot, I got a 'Six Feet Under' vibe from the whole thing. A visual elegy of sorts, still can't get the last image out of my mind. In the face of many critics near and far, I will say that final shot was brilliant. So there.

Embracing Summer
Summer is here. It is hot. I am embracing the warmth though it flies in the face of my natural state. However, I'll check back with you on this topic in July. Enjoy it and hold close the ones you love.


 Back In Buffalo (Leo Kottke)

We got out of Buffalo
Locked inside the plane
And underneath the clouds below
The weather turned to rain
The weather turned to rain

Sunlight blinded passenger
Staring down at fright
We said don't we love misery
Maybe we were right
Maybe we were right

Far above Lake Erie
We got lost on wine
We said we know what we're doing
But we had lost our minds
We had lost our minds

Ten more years on marley floors
We left that job to go
Back where people loved us once
We're back in Buffalo
We're back in Buffalo

Why 'The Spirit of Radio' is My Favorite Song

Can you answer the question, "What is your favorite song"? I can. Yep, I have whittled it down to one and I have known it since I was 12 years old. This is my desert island song; my funeral song. I am talking about The Spirit of Radio by Rush. It played a very big role in what remains one of the most decisive musical experiences of my life; it was the opener of the Power Windows tour '85. If I close my eyes, and lean back, I can still feel the sheer impact of the lights going up and the bombastic opening riffs coming down. I must have heard this tune some 5000 times throughout my lifetime. 5000. Seriously, how can someone listen to a tune 5000 times and not get sick of it?

Yes indeed, how and why? I will attempt, to the best of my conscious abilities, answer those questions below. Most of the deeper intangibles escape the surface, but, the things I can describe, I will.

First, this tune always makes me happy. Always.

Second, this tune f'ing rocks. I mean, it seriously rocks. It is a prime example of virtuosic rock. It is one big fat timeless sprawling epic masterpiece of a tune exhibiting sophisticated jazz man chops yet is completely accessible to the masses. You can sing it, you can dance to it, you can air guitar to it, you can play your air drums to it, you can just listen, you can analyze it, and it always satisfies in every dimension.

Third, it is smart writing. The lyrics alone read with the smooth grace and perfect rhythm of a Longfellow poem.

Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antenna bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback on a timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free

Fourth, the impeccable musicianship. The sum of the parts are certainly the strongest force, but, when broken down individually, they hold up on their own; almost like three, or four, solos playing in tandem. Remember, there are only 3 guys in this band. I love power trios and the amount of sound they project is astounding. Also, the bass tone is killer.

Fifth, the tune is very dynamic and takes the listener on a musical journey. Like a great novel, it is so easy to lose yourself in the experience. When you wake up you wonder, "What the hell just happened?" "Where was I?" "Whatever, man, that was awesome!"

Sixth, it is innovative and has withstood the test of time. It juxtaposes some seriously heavy rock guitar riffs with a perfectly pretty pop melody, and then, a reggae breakdown. What is THAT all about?

Lastly, and certainly not least, this tune always makes me happy. Always.

Back to the Basics

It was the great Benjamin Verdery who said (paraphrasing), "Never ever be afraid to go back to the basics of playing the guitar." I have been ruminating over this comment ever since I heard it last year during a master class at St. Thomas University. Recently, it has been sounding a particularly resonant chord within. Of course, at the time, Ben was referring to technical aspects of playing the guitar, i.e. slurs, scales, arpeggios exercises, you know, guitar heads, the basic technical work that we all go through to become proficient players. Even when you think you have things under control, mastered maybe, there is always something to be learned and refined by revisiting the fundamentals. This is applicable to technical as well as metaphysical aspects of the playing the guitar. For this article, I am focusing on the metaphysical. Technique will be addressed at a later time.

These past couple of weeks I have been reverting back to the basics of my playing by burying myself deep into some of the roots music that forms the relatively short, yet rich, history of American finger-style guitar. I think it is important to do this, to become aware of the history of what you do, to further deepen your relationship with the music you play and ultimately produce. I guess it is, essentially, looking back to move forward.

Blind Blake, Blind Boy Fuller, and Joseph Spence, are the artists that have been speaking to me as of late. Blake's (ragtime) hey day was in the late 20s to early 30s. Fuller (blues/ragtime) was active in the late 20s to the 40s. And Spence (gospel/Bahamian songs) was 'discovered' in the late 50s and remained an active player until he died in 1984. I always find myself circling back to these players when I need to ground myself musically, when I feel things are spinning way out beyond the stratosphere and everything sounds like trash. It happens.These dudes are another form of gravity.

Blake, Fuller, and Spence exhibit three common qualities that all players should hear, listen to, and absorb (of course there are more but these are the ones that are most striking at the moment). You don't need to play their pieces, or explore their respective genres of music, or even like them for that matter, but there are some true bedrock, foundational principles that endure and will help anyone further their abilities. All three are open to interpretation in the strict sense, but when you listen, you'll know what I mean:

1. A profound sense of rhythm (groove)
2. A profound sense of emotional expressiveness (soul)
3. A profound sense of freedom (sense of humor and spontaneity)

All of these qualities are adaptable to any kind of music that you play. It is so easy to get bogged down by the 'what' and the 'how' and forget the 'way'. These three giants (and many others of their time and beyond) were connected in such a 'way' that is infectious. People smiled when they heard them, hell, people danced! Never ever be afraid to go back to the basics.