From the distance, footsteps. The jangle of long-forgotten keys and curses at a stubborn lock. The creak of a rusty hinge announces a room thick with dust, entirely dark save for the guttering light of an old computer that reads "Relaxin' at Camarillo".
For eighteen months there has been virtually no guitaring. There are a number of reasons - this mainly (BUY IT!), but also just getting into the habit of not playing. I allow myself to slip into habits very easily. I also turned 40 and became obsessed with preserving what remained of my imperiled virility, and started working out like a maniac. After many miles of running, two damaged neck vertebrae, a numb arm and being knocked out by a 20 year-old in a boxing ring, I've decided it's time to return to the original project - jazz mastery in time for retirement!
However, there are some rules:
- This time, I'm focusing exclusively on playing solo. This doesn't just mean super-sonic reharmonizations and mental chord melodies, but also strumming the chords and singing along. From now on, I play each song in its entirety as if it were a performance - what I like to call the 'this is not a party, it's a hostage situation' approach to guitar playing.
- I'm only going to practice when I feel like it, and I'm not going to let the non-existent readers of an incoherent blog tyrannize me into feeling bad about it. Fuckers!
- I shall spend absolutely no money on new books/videos/instructional materials that promise to take my playing to a new level, at least until I can say that I've successfully exhausted those I already own.
- I'm going to drink more.
And finally, some jazz-related content, here's a nice piece on Bucky Pizarelli that I heard on NPR on the 21st February. You saw it here first.
