Improv Resource Center - Forums
New journal, new thoughts, new plans.
The goal of this journal is to write nearly every day. Not every day because that is impossible. But nearly every day. Probably not for long each day, as to write long, each day, would be nearly impossible. But simply to get into the habit of writing.
Incrementaly.
I have played the guitar for 17 years. I am okay at it. I have been in a rock band, and played well in that band. I have some ability. I have an ear, and creativity.
But this wasnt enough for the band. After a while my lines, and leads, became very stale. I had atrophied, even while playing every day.
My involvement with the band ended for many reasons, but one is that I wasn't playing particularly well. I wasn't meeting my potential. I also must blame a particularly bad sounding Marshall amp for part of my bad sound, but I digress.
The experience left me humiliated and disillusioned about my ability. This was critical. I think it is a wonderful thing to be disillusioned. It means, literally, to be stripped of illusions. And what could be better than that?
I had a friend/aquaintance--more someone I admired and found interesting than an actual friend. And he, freshman year, was always talking about this philosopher named Gerjief. Gerjief was very involved, if I remember correctly, with stripping away, or at least recognizing, the illusions we all labor under.
My friend's name was Matt Lorre. A girl gave him the nickname of Matt Nature freshman year. I still think of him as Matt Nature.
Matt Nature was a fascinating and inspiring person.
I remember climbing a rock in Papago Park, outside of Phoenix, with Matt, when we were 19. Maybe he was 20. We had heads full of acid. It was bouldering, hand over hand, no ropes.
We were climbing what seemed a steep, relatively scary pitch. It's entirely possible it might look small today. Or not. My knees aren't what they were then.
And at one point we seperated.
Later on I met Matt at the top, anyway, which, by the way, was littered with beer cans, and had an arrow graphitied to the very top of the peak.
Matt started talking about how he was climbing and then he just started to panic. "Fear!" he said, looking right at me. "It'll stop you in anything you want to do."
It was one of those statements that meant more than what it simply reads as. It felt like it meant more, his meaning meant more. I understood more of what he meant, than what it reads as. So maybe you can now understand it too.
I considered him more of a teacher than a friend. In his dormroom he was nice enough to smoke me out and put on John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things" which I'd never heard before, being a freshman. I remember best McCoy Tyner's endless, wonderful piano comp. The best musicians in the world, I thought, like to groove simply.
I also remember a startling little run Coltrane played, hear and gone. Matt said that's just a fraction of what Coltrane is famous for and can do. That kind of thing.
We also listened to King Crimson, "Three Of A Perfect Pair." He pointed out, to me, the compact drumming of Bill Bruford.
I love music!
So after having to confront the stark reality of what I lack as a musician I have decided to correct myself. I play mainly acoustic and have tried to learn some basic flatpicking--ala Doc Watson or Ramblin' Jack Elliot.
I have also started to try to learn a solo from Charlie Christian.
So to do this ... discipline. Nearly every night.
The goal of this journal is to write nearly every day. Not every day because that is impossible. But nearly every day. Probably not for long each day, as to write long, each day, would be nearly impossible. But simply to get into the habit of writing.
Incrementaly.
I have played the guitar for 17 years. I am okay at it. I have been in a rock band, and played well in that band. I have some ability. I have an ear, and creativity.
But this wasnt enough for the band. After a while my lines, and leads, became very stale. I had atrophied, even while playing every day.
My involvement with the band ended for many reasons, but one is that I wasn't playing particularly well. I wasn't meeting my potential. I also must blame a particularly bad sounding Marshall amp for part of my bad sound, but I digress.
The experience left me humiliated and disillusioned about my ability. This was critical. I think it is a wonderful thing to be disillusioned. It means, literally, to be stripped of illusions. And what could be better than that?
I had a friend/aquaintance--more someone I admired and found interesting than an actual friend. And he, freshman year, was always talking about this philosopher named Gerjief. Gerjief was very involved, if I remember correctly, with stripping away, or at least recognizing, the illusions we all labor under.
My friend's name was Matt Lorre. A girl gave him the nickname of Matt Nature freshman year. I still think of him as Matt Nature.
Matt Nature was a fascinating and inspiring person.
I remember climbing a rock in Papago Park, outside of Phoenix, with Matt, when we were 19. Maybe he was 20. We had heads full of acid. It was bouldering, hand over hand, no ropes.
We were climbing what seemed a steep, relatively scary pitch. It's entirely possible it might look small today. Or not. My knees aren't what they were then.
And at one point we seperated.
Later on I met Matt at the top, anyway, which, by the way, was littered with beer cans, and had an arrow graphitied to the very top of the peak.
Matt started talking about how he was climbing and then he just started to panic. "Fear!" he said, looking right at me. "It'll stop you in anything you want to do."
It was one of those statements that meant more than what it simply reads as. It felt like it meant more, his meaning meant more. I understood more of what he meant, than what it reads as. So maybe you can now understand it too.
I considered him more of a teacher than a friend. In his dormroom he was nice enough to smoke me out and put on John Coltrane's "My Favorite Things" which I'd never heard before, being a freshman. I remember best McCoy Tyner's endless, wonderful piano comp. The best musicians in the world, I thought, like to groove simply.
I also remember a startling little run Coltrane played, hear and gone. Matt said that's just a fraction of what Coltrane is famous for and can do. That kind of thing.
We also listened to King Crimson, "Three Of A Perfect Pair." He pointed out, to me, the compact drumming of Bill Bruford.
I love music!
So after having to confront the stark reality of what I lack as a musician I have decided to correct myself. I play mainly acoustic and have tried to learn some basic flatpicking--ala Doc Watson or Ramblin' Jack Elliot.
I have also started to try to learn a solo from Charlie Christian.
So to do this ... discipline. Nearly every night.