Relaxin' at Camarillo

More from Pianoland

The secret is out - playing the piano is a piece of piss. After only a week of playing for half an hour a day, I've already breezed through "Kumbaya" and "London Bridge is Falling Down" and am currently hammering my way through George Harrison's "Something" before scaling the north face of "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." I'll admit that Alberti bass has got me a little hung up and that so far I haven't ventured to play anything outside of C, but if you'll permit me to say so, it seems that tinkling the ivories is as simple as pressing the correct buttons at the right time. Easy.

As you may have noticed, I'm rather taking my time getting back into jazz guitar and part of the circumlocution is due to unexpectedly getting into the sort of popular music I usually feel too old to enjoy. Aside from dusting off my Big Youth records (for what are we all if not big youths?), I've been particularly enjoying Knife Crazy, Blood Red Shoes, and Emmy the Great. I'm also guiltily fond of that Kate Nash single, but only because I'm hard-wired to obey girls what talk like that.   

Bear with me: I did take my guitar in to have that ebony bridge fitted. The one I bought nine months ago.

Piano Update: day five

Proof positive that this blog has officially reached its lowest ebb ever, here's a recording of me playing "Kumbaya."

Kumbaya.mp3

(NB: if you actually take the time to listen to this, you are one bored fucker. Have you considered joining the army?)

 

Old Joanna

I'm back!!! Unfortunately there's no interesting reason for my long absence save the sudden outbreak of summer after a long and miserable winter. I've been in the garden, excepting the month I spent in Britain (which remains the dingy, chiselling bunghole we all know and love -- except now with added bombs and rain!) Accordingly, I've barely touched a guitar for almost three months, unless you include the occasional bit of heavy metal bass I play to soothe the baby. It's important to remain guilt-free about times off practicing, but I have to admit that recently I've grown weary of training the wisteria, and when I go out to turn the compost, I can't help thinking the thrill has gone. So it seemed as if the jazz sap had been slowly rising for some days, and then on Friday, it all came boiling out. The reason? We got a new piano:

It's a Wurlitzer spinet, a curious little nondescript built in the mid-60s. Needs a tune, but is basically sound. Best of all, I can't keep my hands to myself. Already I've written a song called "Have a Banana," the first piece in what promises to be a powerful Liederkreis. 

More to follow. Of one kind or another.