Guitar Gear

When it comes to creating music for songs, I’ve usually had a pretty easy time of it. I hear a melody in my head, think of what chord changes would fit with the melody, and put a simple track together. It’s a different story with lyrics. I have to admit that that isn’t my strong suit, even though once I’m done, I’m usually satisfied with them. But even still, writing lyrics isn’t all that difficult.

But what is hard is actually putting the song together and getting all the parts right. I used to be a bit embarrassed by the fact that especially with guitar riffs, I’d sometimes take 20-30 takes to make it right – or even more if I didn’t know how to play the riff that I heard in my head in the first place. It wasn’t about being a perfectionist; it was all about learning how to play. Period. Used to drive my poor family insane. My wife would sometimes burst into my man-cave exclaiming, “Why the hell do you have to play that phrase over and Over and OVER AGAIN?!!!”

With a sheepish grin, I’d almost invariably reply, “‘coz I’m not good enough to play what I’m hearing in my head, and need to get it down.”

Of course, her reply would be, “Well then, why don’t you just practice it quietly until you’ve got it, then record it?”

“Because I’m so close to getting it, but I screw it up along the way. I’m banking on hitting it one of these times, honey,” I’d reply.

“Oh my gawd! You’re driving us CRAZY!”

Years down the line, I’m a much better player, so I can usually hit it in one or two takes, or I now tend to experiment with different approaches to a particular phrase, rather than have my recording session be part learning session. But I will tell you this: All that time spent repeating and repeating paid off. That repetition made me a better player, and actually made my song arrangements much better. But nevertheless, I still do a LOT of repeating, especially with lead breaks.

In a song I wrote several years ago, I shared with a friend that the solo was actually composed. He was (and still is) a great guitar player, so he had a hard time fathoming how I didn’t just improvise over the changes. I was actually a little embarrassed so I made up some lame excuse. And I remember that conversation to this day. But yesterday, I was reading Bob Lefsetz’ latest installment where he was raving about the Eagles’ documentary, and in a passage in his article he wrote this:

Glenn hooks up with J.D. Souther and they form Longbranch Pennywhistle. They end up befriending Jackson Browne and move in above him in Echo Park. Where at nine every morning Jackson makes tea and starts to write. Playing the same riffs twenty times in a row. THAT’S WHAT IT TAKES TO MAKE IT! You don’t see the hard work at home, only the result, but the dues being paid are hefty.

Talk about reading something encouraging! Jackson Browne is one of my all-time favorite singer/songwriters, and to find out something about his writing process having even a slight similarity to my own simply blew me away!

I’ve always been of the mind that you have to practice, practice, practice to be good, and that practice has be driven by somewhat of a single-minded purpose. I wrote about this in a recent post, but that point was really driven home by that short passage.

Now I don’t feel so bad about driving my family crazy with my playing something over and over and over again. 🙂

Love him or hate him, agree with him or not, or even question his credibility, Bob Lefsetz has something to say. “The Letter,” which apparently started out as a way to help Lefsetz get a job in the music biz, has become a close commentary on the music industry to which industry execs pay attention. I discovered his blog a few months ago purely by accident while doing a search of sort, and loved what he was saying; especially with respect to making it in today’s music industry.

One thing that I’ve noticed after reading him daily or even twice daily – he’s a prolific poster – is that he often talks about making it in the industry, and how hard it is to make it. It’s not about talent; hell, I know a lot of talented people who’ve never made it. It’s about working your ass off. For instance, here’s an excerpt from yesterday’s letter:

These musicians practiced for years. There were no short cuts to stardom. Sure, there were some teenybopper acts, but we didn’t take them seriously, unlike the way the industry and the media fawn over today’s TV stars, made famous overnight by “Idol, ” “The Voice” and “X Factor.” A rock star of yore literally rose from the streets, there was almost never an overnight success. And your audience never made fun of  you, they loved you, they were thrilled by you, you were the reason they kept on living.

The operative phrase in the excerpt is “There were no short cuts to stardom.” Unfortunately, the shows Bob mentioned in the same paragraph have led millions of people to think they can indeed take shortcuts to stardom. It just isn’t so. Making it that way is akin to winning the lottery. As Bob also said, “A rock star of yore literally rose from the streets.” In other words, they worked their asses off, playing small clubs and venues and building up a fan base.

But the same principle applies to any profession. You don’t become good at any profession without putting in the time, without developing and honing your skills through repetition and practice; also making mistakes and learning from them, which again circles back to doing enough repetition to make mistakes.

Over the years in my career as a software engineer, I’ve occasionally taken some new developers under my wing to mentor them in their early years. When we first start working together, I share with them an incident that happened in 2000 when I was working on the highly visible CarsDirect.com project (at the time, it had set the record for largest VC funding at $300 Million). At a meeting the day after our initial, major release, the CTO asked me to put together an architecture for the upcoming major release which would move the technology from ASP to Java. I had two hours to draw up an initial architecture so I could present it at the kickoff meeting  which included the execs and all stakeholders. I completed the mini-project, and gave the presentation. After the kickoff meeting, one of the young engineers fresh out of college asked me, “How did you come up with that architecture so quickly?” I replied, “That’s over 20 years of working in the industry, my friend. I’m not saying that to brag. But my experience allows me to do this kind of stuff without really thinking about it too much. I can see most of the relationships in my head, so I spend little time discovering what the relationships might be.”

The point to the above is that I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I’m at today. I look back on my career and I’ve accomplished some incredible things – some of my ideas on software design and architecture even made it on the Space Shuttle – and I’ve made some incredibly huge gaffes and mistakes. But that’s how you build a career. It doesn’t happen over night. Your fate isn’t determined by a panel of judges. You’re the captain of your destiny, and you have to have the mental fortitude, dedication, perseverance and passion to make it!

So being a fan of Gibson, I of course subscribe to their Facebook page where I get regular updates on what they’re releasing. The latest is another Custom Shop guitar in the “Collectors Choice” series, Number 7. The original is owned by John Shanks, a singer/songwriter/producer, and is a 1960 model. You can get all the details here.

I know, I’ve raved about these in the past, but I’m back-stepping a little bit; not necessarily refuting what I mentioned before, as from an appreciation perspective, the Collectors Choice guitars give me shivers. They’re freakin’ gorgeous!

BUT…. with a MSRP of about $9400, which translates to $4500-$5000 street, that’s not a price I’ll pay for a Les Paul. Okay, I get that it’s made to exacting specs of the original. But it’s still a brand-new guitar. I think it’s the relic thing. I’ve never been a big fan of relics (yeah, I have one, but it’s very lightly relicked, and I got it for a steal). Or actually, let me qualify. I don’t want to pay the huge sums that some relicked guitars somehow command. The exception, of course, are the Roadworn Series guitars from Fender, which are pretty reasonably priced.

But then again, I’d rather beat the shit out of my guitars myself…

“Those who are passionate about performance must be passionate about critique and practice.”
-Ron Mumm, Lt. Col. USAF (ret.)

As a professional in high-tech for almost 30 years, and having worked at various levels in the industry from shipping dock, to analyst, to engineer, to marketing, to sales, to management, one thing that has always been very important to me is leadership. I’ve read tons of books on the subject and attended several seminars on honing my leadership skills. Right now, I’m reading a fantastic book called, “Leading with Honor,” by Lee Ellis, who shares his story of being a POW during the Vietnam War and sharing the leadership lessons he learned from his years of incarceration.

I got the quote above from the latest chapter I’m reading called, “Develop Your People.” When I read that sentence, it hit me like a ton of bricks, for to me, it distilled down to its very essence, that which makes us successful at anything.

In that statement, it’s not just practice that makes us better, but also being open to critique. Feedback allows us to gauge how well we’re doing. Feedback gives us a compass on our performance. Some of the best leaders I’ve worked with over the years have been great about taking critique from others, be it their peers or even those who work for them.

But that statement isn’t just limited to leadership situations. It applies to practically everything we do in our lives; even with playing guitar or some other musical instrument. If you play out, you can practice all you want in a closed environment, but you really have no gauge on how well you’re doing until you get feedback either from your audience or your bandmates.

I practice guitar practically every day; not necessarily doing exercises, but also honing my performance skills. Since I mostly play solo, it’s important for me to have a clean performance, so I make sure that I’ve got my playing – and singing – down. But I’m also big on getting feedback, so I regularly ask the management at the restaurant I work at how well I’ve performed, and even ask customers if there’s something they’d rather hear me play or if something bothered them. Over the years, it has helped me hone the style of music I play in my sets, and helped me calibrate what’s appropriate to do in a song with respect to modulation or playing licks. After all, who measures quality? My customers.