I’m not the kind of guy to retype someone bio if it’s out there in the internet, you can find it here. For this type of music, Mogwai has become my main influence. As one of the few bands out there making mostly non vocal rock, in my ears you have to be pretty damn good to keep my interest, and they succeed in that very very wel. You, at least, should listen to it. For a taste of Mogwai, please look here!

See, as I wrote down my blog about Evelien and Fabienne, I thought it was fun. Interesting. In line with what I think this blog is. To me it’s been a place, to share, help, and inform like minded people. And occasionally vent my tantrums. But now, just because in a split second I thought it would be fun to actually get the bigger picture on both musicians, I asked them whether they would be so kind as to answer some questions. Interviews? Who the #$!@ was I kidding?

To be fair, at some point in my life I owned half a degree in a writing oriented study, and I’m used to ask questions because in that position one usually does not have to speak much. But interview people? That’s different. That means you ask questions, and the answers will have to form some sort of coherent story. For it to form a coherent story, the questions have to be good. So, what are good questions?

The rant above pretty much sums up the thoughts for the following weekend. Calm seas became ship sinking oceans. It was fun though. I really like to surprise myself every once in a while. It’s not necessarily a good feeling when someone else throws you of your guard, and even although it might turn out to be a humbling experience, it can do a fair bit of damage too. However, if I’m the one who’s throwing me of my guard, in other words, really surprise myself, it’s nearly always fun. And 99% of the time I walk away a wiser (note to audience: in general that does not mean less goofy) man.

Tonight, I gathered the questions I thought were interesting, and sent them away. I have to say, I feel some sense of achievement. Not particularly Nobel prize winning, but achievement all the same.

So on a bright and sunny Monday afternoon, I set out to go and do just that. Location? A public park nearby. Mission? Go about my usual practice routine, trying to be unimpressed, and not so self conscious with the fact that there was a great chance that people, other people then myself, where going to hear it.

Whilst walking through the park, looking for a place to play, I tried to free myself of the feeling that I was walking to the gallows. It’s supposed to be fun, after all. I had great benefit of my experience in meditation, and walking around for a while, feeling the wind brushing my cheeks and ruffle my hair, I’d become an observer of the situation again, rather than the ‘victim’. I set down on a bench, enjoyed the fact that I was actually going to do this, and started practice. I did my exercises to loosen up my hands and fingers, and then after about thirty minutes, I started to play some instrumental songs.

The first jogger appeared on the horizon. As he approached, the lump in my stomach tilted it’s three heads and watched with interest how I stopped playing until after the jogger had passed. ‘That’s no good’, I thought. So, when the next passer by showed up, I kept playing, focusing on what I was doing. The moment came, and went. There I was, alone again, surrounded by wonderful woods, and tjirping of birds. This went on for a while, and after a while I could play, untouched by the fact that people kept passing by, some of ‘m stopping because their dog had found an interesting bug to chase, and some of ‘m because they, well, seem to like what they heard.

To say it was a jubilant experience, would be an understatement. I returned home after an hour and a half, feeling like I just conquered the lost world. I kept feeling like that for days on end, and when the feeling subsided, I went out to do it all over again. In the weeks that followed, I searched for more spots to practice in public. Most of ‘m are parks, or in nature. But I keep picking spots that I know someone will pass. Or sit on the same row of benches.

There is one thing though. Although me and the lump in my stomach are on relatively good, and speaking terms now, it’s still too much of a factor. When I tried singing the first time, I was barely whispering. Have you ever tried singing on an very full stomach? Or while you’re a bit tensed? Not a nice a feeling, and equally important, not so nice to listen to. If anything, the guitar will dominate the voice in terms of strength. It’s a first though. Someone playing guitar who’s miming the lyrics, for the audiences’ convenience :-) Getting to grips with singing will be the next hurdle!

Say, you want to buy a new guitar. Or pick. Or Bass. Or pedal board connector cable. Or violin strings. What used to be a fairly easy choice (there were good and bad products) has now evolved into something you have to give a pretty substantial amount of time to. Or you’re supposed to. An process of reviewing, researching, trying, doubting, and repeat, until doubt has changed into certainty. There is no website related to music without advertisements, and millions of products are shoved through the unsuspecting costumers throats on a daily basis. All this choice leads to disappointment of not having product X, unhappiness about not being able to afford product Y, resentment for that others do have product X and so on, and so forth. And all that, ultimately will distract you from what you loved about your instrument – your music, your own tune – in the first place.

What is pissing me off in increasing amounts and what regularly makes me piss acid, is the impression that the starting musicians have of what makes you a good musician. There is a so much unnecessary rivalry between them. ‘You’re uncool, as you don’t have a guitar of brand X’, so no, let’s not jam together.’ I’ve heard that going on between teenagers in a rehearsal facility in town, more then once. Not only amongst starting musicians, but also amongst more established people in the music business there seems to be a sense of self-righteousness and smugness because they feel like they’re on the ‘right’ gear, and others are not. I guess that type of behavior is closely linked to mankind’s tendency to focus on what set’s us apart from one another instead of things we have in common, but that’s a different discussion altogether.

Then, there are the numerous examples of people who are unable to play without any gear, apart from the instrument itself. The number of musicians who simply step up and do their thing, without the aid of gear is getting slimmer by the day. Last week, I attended a show of a locally established band. Or, I intended to. I got to the venue, bought myself a drink, mixed in with the crowd and waited with joy and happy excitation for the great gig to come. How expectations can be shattered as easy as throwing in a window with a brick, and how liking for a band can melt like snow being pissed on. After a 30 minute delay, the venue owner stepped on the stage, and announced that the band was not playing. Apparently, both guitarists were having difficulties with some of their pedals, some of them where malfunctioning. I was, to say the least, flustered when hearing this. The point to this paragraph I guess is that to me it feels like musicians are less and less flexible in what sounds they can or can not create. I can understand, really, how it must suck for a musicians point of view. There you are, ready for a gig, and transport has messed with your pedals. But still. Blowing off a gig? Give the whole thing a twist and try something new, I’d say. I’m tempted to conclude the paragraph by saying that in this day and age, it’s the mechanics that shape the sound, instead of the players. The obvious counterargument being that, generally speaking, it’s the artist that picks the sound (pedal) and therefore they are in fact shaping the sound. Then let me say this. I wonder how many musicians know the whole spectrum, or 95% of it, of sounds their instrument can make without any help.

When Pink Floyd released their ‘Dark side of the moon’ album, for which the whole studio was used as an instrument, they’d been playing for over a decade with way less sophisticated equipment. Same goes for the Beatles and their release of the ‘Sgt Pepper’s Lonely  Hearts Club Band’. And for Hendrix’ ‘Electric Ladyland’.

I guess, overall, what I’m trying to say, is this: To the right way to find out what you’re about musically is to first find your tune, style, heaven, inspiration on your instrument,  and only when you think it’s worth the investment of time and energy, broaden your horizon. There is some much that you can learn from your instrument, the way it sounds, and how to play it, there is probably so much you will never master it. So unless you have a very good reason* to start to toy with new gear (gear in the broadest sense of the word), don’t. Just don’t.

*That’s for every musician to decide for himself. As I have mine, you’ll have yours, and I respect that :-) Lets exchange in the comments!

Now, continue your interweb travels. Quick! :-)

Shy

However, if there was someone listening, either one person, or ten, or a hundred, whether it was my parents (and now my girlfriend) listening to me practice, or performing on high school for small audiences (120 ppl max) my hands lock up, I get very aware of my surroundings, and I’m intensely afraid of failing. Failing to play the proper notes, failing to sing the proper lyrics, failing to meet the listeners’ expectations, and at the same time, of very convinced that I would fail myself if I were in the audience. There is no difference for me between practicing and performing. If there are people present, whether they listen or not, I get afraid.

All in all, if having stage fright, or being perform shy (not in the sack, mind you) was a talent, I would rule the universe. As that is not the case, I’m forced to accept it for what it is. Unsettling, annoying, and scary.

But now for the good stuff. A couple of weeks ago, I felt like taking the problem head on, to see if we good cover some ground together. My promise to the fear was that I would listen to what it actually wanted to say (blessed with an extraordinary amount of will power, dedicated to know myself, I’ve learned that behind a lot of emotions some lesson is hidden) In return, I asked the fear not to scream so loud. I must say, it worked wonders. I decided that playing on my balcony, on the first floor of a building on the corner of a street with loads of traffic, and pedestrians, was a gap I could jump. For forty five minutes or so, I just went through my warm up routine. Picking scales, modes, and to finish it off some Sondre Lerche, Stevie Ray, and Johnny Cash songs.

Now, I know for fact that most likely, other then my neighbors, no one  heard me. If you’re in a car, chances you have your audio system blaring. If you on you bicycle, most likely your wearing your ear buds to listen to your mp3 player. As a pedestrian, there is enough to see and hear around you, and with all the engines running, it’s not likely you’d hear a dude playing guitar, somewhere on a balcony. An acoustic guitar, to boot.

But all that doesn’t matter. What matters is, that if felt awkward when I started. I felt being looked at, I felt shy. But…I did not lock up. Very softly I started playing my scales and modes, and gradually I got used to being in a environment where, in theory, people other then myself, could hear me. It was a great feeling taking this baby step. I wonder where this fear of mine comes from. I wonder too, what it’s trying to teach me. I’m thrilled however, that baby steps, the first one anyway, seem to work. I’ll try playing in a park next :-) More on that in future posts!

Imagine this. You’ve had a wonderful night. Good conversation, experiencing true friendship. With an air of happiness you start making your way home. In the train, were you usually read or stare out the window, you now find a guy, playing Spanish/Flamenco guitar. He’s obviously studying, wearing headphones with a backing track.

Then, after exchanging the ‘Dude, frikking awesome is that’ look, you sit down, and watch his hands play. A wonderful synergy between his left and right hand. The ‘nose to the grindstone’ look in his eyes, chuckling at his own faults, and relentlessly starting over the phrases that caused him problems.

That happened to me last night. It was such an inspiration. Playing in the train. Just practicing. And then the music. Instantly I felt I was swept to Spain in the 1800’s. Warm sun, a lonesome guitar singing it’s serenade between small houses clad in white chalk. It was awesome.

Unfortunately I had to go of the train before him. He was practicing, and I did not want to but in. But man, I would’ve liked to talk with him about music. I thanked him before leaving the train, and told him he had been a inspiration. He blushed slightly, and thanked me. Then, he pressed play on his Ipod again, and returned to work.