Last night at Reckless, I ran into my new friend Chad, who just moved here from Louisiana. His quick wit and general hilarity had me close to tears the other evening, and he was full of the funny yesterday, too. Chad has dozens of wonderfully oddball stories of the South, and he delivers them with lots of flourish and detail. I knew that Chad had conducted a few interviews with musicians recently, so we started talking about the awkward aspects of interviewing people. I mentioned how much I dislike hearing my voice while transcribing, and Chad replied, "Oh honey, I know. I swear to god, I get so embarrassed. I probably sound like a gay cowboy!"
Miles is allowing me to borrow a guitar so that I can figure out if musicianship is the right thing for me. I'd always wanted to play a cool instrument (as opposed to the relatively dorky violin which dominated my adolescence), but I made up excuses to avoid picking up the drums (nowhere to practice) or the bass (female bass player is a rock cliche) or the guitar (the necks are too big). Then I turned 26, and realized that if I didn't start now, I'd soon be too grizzled to be in a proper rock and roll band. And dear Miles, along with my father's gift of the how-to book Total Guitar, stepped in.
The first night of playing was fun. I made an E-major chord, an A-major chord, and a D-major chord. I was quite pleased with my accomplishment. I actually thought to myself, "This is how Hendrix started. This is how it all begins!" The following day, my fingers were tender, but I kept at it. For a week, I practiced every night for at least an hour. I told Miles that I'd be good by the end of the summer so that we could start our emo hardcore band in the fall.
My enthusiasm was unstoppable until I tried making barre chords. As it turns out, the guitar's neck is too big for my fingers to move beyond, say, the fourth fret. So it's time to buy a guitar. I like the lady-sized looks of these guitars, but I'd feel really nerdy playing a guitar with a little O+ sign on it. It's like using Crest For Girls toothpaste or something. This weekend, I might sneak around Guitar Center to monkey around with a few different guitars. Any suggestions?
Miles is allowing me to borrow a guitar so that I can figure out if musicianship is the right thing for me. I'd always wanted to play a cool instrument (as opposed to the relatively dorky violin which dominated my adolescence), but I made up excuses to avoid picking up the drums (nowhere to practice) or the bass (female bass player is a rock cliche) or the guitar (the necks are too big). Then I turned 26, and realized that if I didn't start now, I'd soon be too grizzled to be in a proper rock and roll band. And dear Miles, along with my father's gift of the how-to book Total Guitar, stepped in.
The first night of playing was fun. I made an E-major chord, an A-major chord, and a D-major chord. I was quite pleased with my accomplishment. I actually thought to myself, "This is how Hendrix started. This is how it all begins!" The following day, my fingers were tender, but I kept at it. For a week, I practiced every night for at least an hour. I told Miles that I'd be good by the end of the summer so that we could start our emo hardcore band in the fall.
My enthusiasm was unstoppable until I tried making barre chords. As it turns out, the guitar's neck is too big for my fingers to move beyond, say, the fourth fret. So it's time to buy a guitar. I like the lady-sized looks of these guitars, but I'd feel really nerdy playing a guitar with a little O+ sign on it. It's like using Crest For Girls toothpaste or something. This weekend, I might sneak around Guitar Center to monkey around with a few different guitars. Any suggestions?
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