Making Changes

So professionally some things are changing….I think/hope. It was suggested recently that my podcast should be video instead of audio only. I’ve actually been thinking about this for awhile now but I was undecided. (That’s a polite way of saying wishy-washy) But I’m committed to the change now. Actually I would like to think of it as an upgrade.

I’m not entirely sure how it will be presented but I’ve got this part figured out….all of the future episodes will be approximately a half hour in length, unedited, and recorded from Zoom. Past episodes were quite heavily edited. Some conversations were nearly ninety minutes long and I cut them down to fifty or so. The audio version will be available wherever you normally get your podcast and then the video version, or at least clips, will be available on my YouTube channel. I’m still trying to sort it all out. I’ve got a lot of technical stuff to work out too. The plan is to be up and running before February 2024.

When I started out doing this stuff I knew that I didn’t know anything about it and that mistakes were unavoidable. That means that as I continue to learn and grow, changes are inevitable….or at least they should be. I’ve enjoyed many entertaining and informative conversations with my artistic friends and I thought others would enjoy listening in. So I started the podcast with the idea that the listeners could be “a fly on the wall”. I steadfastly avoided the “interview” model of a traditional show. Well, I was wrong. Nobody cared to listen to other people shoot the breeze. And, like many people, I was slow to acknowledge it. But I’ve finally come around.

While talking about it with my advisor I was urged to transform this blog into a vlog and do video only. I’m not too sure I want to do that. I enjoy the act of writing. I probably should have been a writer instead of a musician. If I were to turn on the camera and just talk about this weeks topic I would likely just babble away. And if I scripted it first I would recite it with all of the finesse of an eighth-grader reciting Shakespeare. This may not be the smartest move but I think I’ll just continue writing for the time being.

I bounce my ideas off of my wife. She’s very smart and very intuitive and often thinks of angles that I miss. I also pay a consultant an hourly fee to help out periodically. Honestly, I’m not smart enough to think of this stuff by myself and I’m always looking for input. So with that in mind, please send me your thoughts and ideas, criticisms, complaints, or just general comments. Such things matter to me and are beneficial. I’m sorry that I can’t afford your hourly fee. I’m sure you’re worth it.

Artificial Intelligence

Artificial intelligence (AI) has been in the news a lot over the past several months. Although there is no specific publishing date, it was first developed in September of 2021. However most of us didn’t learn about it until earlier this year.

I’ve been curious about it and have read articles and watched news reports with interest. I think the joke “artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity” has been effectively disproven. AI is emerging as a very powerful tool. And like all tools it can be used for any purpose the user determines.

I downloaded ChatGPT recently just to see what the fuss was about. It was very easy and quick to download and it’s free. So…why not? Okay, I’ve got it. Now what?

I’ve had an idea for a how-to book that I’d like to write so I decided to see if AI could help. I asked it to give me ten chapter headings on that subject and I instantly had them. Several were obvious choices and one was off the mark. But a couple of them were pretty good and I hadn’t thought of them before. Although I won’t be able to use them, they caused me to think in other directions and gave me some inspiration. So without knowing how to use AI, I was able to benefit from it just by goofing around.

The process is simple enough. You type in a question or request and it instantly (and I do mean instantly) responds. In another experiment I took a small point in my future book and asked it to write a 500 word article. It instantly gave me a pretty good article. I can see how this can be exploited by students and why teachers are worried.

ChatGPT is just the beginning. There are other AI programs that have recently come out. A battle for good and evil has already begun. Please remember that I’m an old man and if I’m aware of some of this stuff younger, more sophisticated people are also aware and familiar. This is, in part, a concern for striking actors in Hollywood. Their voices and images can be duplicated and used without their consent for the financial gain of the studios. This is generally referred to as “deep fakes”.

In a New Jersey high school some students used deep fake technology to create nude pictures of some of their classmates and then posted them online. I know it sounds outrageous that the ability exists, but not surprising that it was used. I would like to think that the perpetrators were clever….misguided, of course, but clever. Nope. This morning I saw an ad for another AI program and that was its primary selling point. Yes, these kids need to be held accountable, but so should the software developers.

On a brighter note, the Beatles released a new single this week with the help of AI. (Geez. With the release of a new single by the Beatles and a new album by the Rolling Stones it makes me wonder just how far we set back our clocks this weekend.) Paul, George, and Ringo tried to do something with the remaining cassette demo that John had recorded before his death in 1980 but the original was, in George’s words, “F**king rubbish”. Now, nearly 30 years later, with the help of this new technology, Paul, Ringo, and others were able to make it work.

There were several technical problems, of course, but the biggest hurdle then was that John had simply sang and played piano into a cassette recorder. The piano overpowered his voice in several places and there was no way to balance them out…..until now. With the help of AI they were able to separate the voice and the piano and put them on different tracks. I recently saw a demonstration of the process and was amazed. The demonstrator played piano and sang into a single microphone, took this recording and plugged it into the AI program and instantly got back two separate tracks which could each be manipulated individually. No fuss…no muss.

There is no doubt we are at the beginning of a turning point. For better or worse this technology will change our lives. Yes we should be worried about it’s potential and need to take precautions. But we should also be excited. The possibilities are mind blowing. I’m not too worried because predicting the future has only ever worked with tabloid astrologers. If you watch the movie “2001, A Space Odyssey” you’ll see the video phone (of course) but it’s attached to the kitchen wall. I should add that we don’t have a presence in orbit around Jupiter either. And the pocket communicator in the original Star Trek TV show looks absolutely quaint.

So, for now, I will watch my back but hope for the best. Perhaps it will eventually make me a decent cup of coffee or help me decipher the words to “Louie, Louie”.

Happy Halloween

It’s Halloween. In a few hours the “trick-or-treaters” will be stopping by the house and I will be handing out treats. An annual tradition that I happily participate in, partly out of gratitude for all of the goodies I received as a costumed child many years ago. In truth I look forward to the excitement-turned to duty that the kids have.

As the evening begins the kids run up the steps to the front door and yell “trick or treat” and are excited that you drop a piece of candy into the opened container (usually, but not always, some sort of sack). However, an hour and a half later they just sort of wander up the sidewalk, saunter up the stairs, and dutifully mutter “trick or treat”. When I offer a piece of candy they don’t hardly notice. They simply open their sack as if to say, “just put it in here with the rest of them.” Their enthusiasm has waned and become something like their parents daily enthusiasm about fifteen minutes before quitting time.

Old people like me inevitably make comparisons between the way it was when we were children and the way it is today. It’s not our fault that we remember stuff but I hate it when these words dribble from my lips…..(fill in the blank) “back in my day” or “when I was your age” or any other variation that you can imagine. But dribble they do. Things today are very different of course. The big differences for me is the presence of adults accompanying the kids. It’s sadly necessary. It wasn’t when I was a kid. We would roam the neighborhood like pint-sized marauders rushing from house to house. However, once we had been to every house the evening was done. We went home ate treats.

Another difference is the treats themselves. We would often get home-made treats like fudge, brownies, cookies, and popcorn balls. I honestly didn’t care for popcorn balls but my Mom loved them. So I happily gave them to her as a bribe to keep her out of the good stuff. Unfortunately those days will never return. It’s the one night of the year where it’s okay to accept candy from strangers as long as it’s store-bought and the wrapper hasn’t been tampered with. Today’s kids will never know the joy of choking down a popcorn ball or a peanut butter cookie that was left in the oven too long…..about a week ago. But you did find out which of your neighbors could bake….or couldn’t. You also found out which ones cared enough to actually take the time to make things instead of simply buying a bag of root beer barrels or rock hard bubble gum.

So yes, things today are a bit different than they were. But the important things still remain. Luckily no one has figured out a way to do it virtually. It is still a brief opportunity to socially interact with real people. It’s a very brief opportunity for me to meet my neighbors and their children. We can choose to be either those nice old people who live on the corner or those grumpy, mean old people that no one likes.

And we give out the good stuff. We give it out to anyone who rings the bell. Little kids, teenagers, and one old lady holding her infant grandchild claiming she was trick-or-treating for the baby. (Yeah, right. I wanna see that kid chow down a Snickers bar) Age doesn’t matter…it’s just a piece of candy. It’s more important, in my opinion, that the kids have a safe night on the town.

Even though it’s an international event it’s still very local. A celebration of Barbies, ninjas, superheroes, and things that go bump in the night. A “hall pass”, if you will, for children of all ages to extort a small treat from their neighbors. A tradition that most of us willfully participate in….some gleefully and some begrudgingly. But I’m grateful that we still carry on this peculiar tradition. So Happy Halloween to all.

Oh….and I’m also grateful for the demise of the dreaded popcorn ball.

Homecoming Parade

Our great-granddaughter is a cheerleader. This is her first year and she is understandably excited. This past Friday was Homecoming at the school which, of course involves a football game in the evening. Before that, however, is the Homecoming Parade that travels through our little town and makes its way to the school. Our little cheerleader was in the parade so Grandma and Grandpa decided to attend.

We hadn’t gone to the parade in many years. It’s kind of embarrassing because the parade route passes within a block of our home. But we made it this year to support our cheerleader if not the hometown.

As soon as we left the house and headed downtown we recognized the commotion. There was excitement in the air. A Homecoming is special in a small town.

When we got downtown we spotted an empty spot at the curb and so we claimed it as our own. We chatted a bit with others in the vicinity and got to know our neighbors. A lot of the older folks were there for the same reason we were. A family member or family of a friend was involved.

I looked about and took in the spectacle. Folks lined up along the curb or standing directly behind someone who was. Someone had set up a hotdog stand nearby. I guess I wasn’t curious enough to walk over and find out who it was. Perhaps a local church using it as a fundraiser. In past years I’ve seen a popcorn machine set up too but I didn’t see it this year.

There were little kids, with their parents, excited not only for the parade but also because parade participants would be throwing candy to them as they passed by. There were middle-school kids there too, happy to be off their tether and allowed to socialize with their own kind in a feral sort of way. This included a couple of small herds of young girls who seemed to be on some kind of urgent mission based on the way they scampered from one location to another.

The parade began at 5:30 sharp with the blast of sirens from the various police cars that were in the lead. That was followed by the local marching band. If you were hoping for world class music you were destined to be disappointed. But this is where world class music begins. I have the highest praise for local band directors who can somehow wrangle these children and teach them how to play their various instruments while marching. Oh….and the music was still pretty darn good.

The parade continued with a succession of convertible cars carrying the Homecoming King and Queen and their court two-by-two. There were a few more vehicles carrying members of various charities and, of course, the cheerleaders. The passengers of all of these vehicles were throwing handfuls of candy to the children as they passed. All of the kids had plastic bags full of the candy they had collected. It was a pretty good precursor to Halloween. I doubt the candy would last that long but their weekend was looking promising.

Many of vehicles were provided by or sponsored by local businesses and so also doubled as rolling billboards. My wife and I lamented that there were no traditional floats. That used to be a big deal when we were in school during the dark ages. And then another blast of sirens as a firetruck and ambulance passed, announcing the end of the parade. Our little parade had lasted about 15 minutes.

During the time we were there I spent a moment to take it all in. The folks there were from all walks of life all along the economic spectrum. There was no question that many differing socio/political views were well represented. But none of that mattered this night. This was homecoming in our town. The town that belonged to all of us. The town that we all cared about.

If all you knew about America was what you saw in the news you would be disappointed in what had become of the American Dream. But when you balance that with our little Homecoming Parade, which is little different from homecoming parades in every town across America, you get a much more balanced view. Yes we have our problems. You can list them as easily as I can. But we have our good points too and they should be listed just as often to remind us of how lucky we are. I’ll  start…..Homecoming Parade.

TheUntalented Students

After my Mom died a couple decades ago we went through her stuff, as one does. I came across all of the school report cards we had received as children. She had kept them all. While I was a pretty good student generally, I noticed one very ironic item in my elementary cards. Apparently the one subject I did poorly in was (wait for it…..) music. So, of course, I chose music as a profession (as one does).

I always felt drawn to the creation and performance of music. But when I pursued it I realized that I was not a natural nor particularly talented. But I had forgotten these report cards. When I came across them they reaffirmed my feelings.

I’m largely a self-taught (feral?) guitarist. I’ve had a handful of lessons over the years but all of my students have had more formal music training in the last couple of months than I’ve had in my lifetime. I’ve joked that I am living proof that you don’t need to take lessons and study to become a good guitarist…..if you don’t mind spending 20 years learning 4 years of material. And, although I think of myself as a good guitarist, I’ve never been a great one. I don’t know if studying formally would have changed that or not.

I believe, however, that my background has made me a pretty good teacher. I did so very many things wrong before I did them right that I can properly advise a student. (“I used to think that your way was easier too. I was wrong. Please don’t make the same mistakes I did.”) I’m also empathetic with their struggles. I clearly remember my own struggles in trying to get my fingers to do stuff. Some memories of that frustration still make me wince.

I’ve been thinking of all this recently as I look over my teaching career. It’s easy to point to the talented students. The small handful that made a successful career in music. The few extremely talented amateurs who’ve decided to play for the sheer enjoyment of it. The standouts that every teacher in every field has.

However I’m equally proud of some of the students who weren’t talented. Their struggles were often painful to watch. But they never gave up. They toughed it out. They likely will never be awesome, but they will (I hope) have a lifetime of enjoyment from playing music. They will also have a deepened appreciation of the virtuosi that they encounter throughout their life.

As their teacher I was often frustrated and even angry. Not at their inability to comprehend or execute but at my own inability to present the information in a manner that was more helpful. If a student is really trying and is unsuccessful, then much of the responsibility rests on the teacher.

It’s funny that I’ve also had many extremely talented students who failed because they just didn’t try. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t get them motivated to apply themselves. Those are the ones that disappoint me. But when someone tries really hard and finally is able to play pretty good? I’m really proud of them too and like to brag…..as one does.

My Excellent Adventure

About four or five years ago I got this bright idea that I wanted to start riding bicycle again. I rode a lot 25 years ago but stopped when I developed a heart condition. I just chickened out I guess. At the very least I didn’t want to ride alone. But I missed riding and so, after getting the okay from my cardiologist, I started again.

I was so out of shape that I could only ride 4 or 5 miles at a time. Then I needed a snack and a nap. (Still two of my favorite pastimes) However, I kept going out and gradually increased the distance and frequency of my rides. To coincide with my rediscovered hobby I went on a diet and lost over 70 lbs.

I’m not too fond of riding on public roads anymore. I’ve had some unpleasant experiences with the occasional driver and just don’t want or need to put myself in that situation anymore. There are some extraordinary trails for unmotorized vehicles all over the country. I’ve driven past some of them in my travels to northern Michigan and thought I would like to ride them someday. The problem is I didn’t want to drive for two hours just to ride for ten minutes. But this past summer I was regularly riding 15-25 miles and could have gone further but I just didn’t want to. I didn’t feel like I had that much discretionary time. I’ve got students to teach, blogs to write, podcasts to produce, blah….blah….blah!

This past weekend, at the urging of my wife, I packed up my bicycle and my credit card and headed north. The first stop was in Leland, near Traverse City. Within Leland is a historical site called Fishtown. A former commercial fishing village on Lake Michigan. It’s been preserved and repurposed with art galleries, sandwich shops, etc. I had never been but my friend Carolyn Damstra had a pop-up art gallery there so I thought I would surprise her with a visit and also see if there was a trail nearby.

We hadn’t seen each other in person since before the pandemic so it was nice getting a chance to hang out and catch up. But she was working, after all, so I left after a half hour. But she gave me directions to a nearby trail so my biking adventure officially began. I parked my car, unloaded my bike, and jumped on the trail. The trail was a mixture of crushed limestone and fine sand. It was a nice surface to ride on, but a bit slower than I’m used to. On the other hand, I wasn’t in a hurry so it didn’t matter. I rode through mostly forest and open meadow. After a couple of miles it became a paved surface and the ride was smoother and faster. I spent the next couple of miles just admiring the beauty of the area and occasionally stopping to take a picture or two. I finally got to a place where the trail crossed a busy road, so I decided to turn around and go back.

When I returned to my car I checked my bikes odometer and saw that I had ridden about ten miles in approximately an hour and a half. I probably could have made better time but why would I want to? As an old man I officially have “mosey” down to a science.

Normally I would be done for the day, but I hadn’t ridden all those times over the last few years building my stamina just to quit now. Nope! I had other places to go. Specifically Charlevoix, or a place just north of there. There is a bike path that runs parallel to US31 along the Lake Michigan shoreline. I’ve driven that rode hundreds of time but have never been on the trail. I’ve ofter said, “One of these days….” But had not done it…..until now.

I rolled into a rest area/trail head around 5:30pm and unloaded my bike. I jumped on the trail and headed north with a beautiful Lake Michigan to keep me company. After a couple hundred yards along the road the path turned into the woods. Riding along, soaking it all in, and feeling grateful for the experience as I looked to the sky and saw the blue expanse over the lake contrasted with dark storm clouds off to the east. Uh oh! So I came to where the path crossed a side road (is there a pattern here?) and turned around. After I loaded the bike I checked the odometer and saw that I had ridden a mere six miles. Only sixteen accumulated miles but it was quality not quantity that was important on this trip. As soon as I got in the car the rain started. Slowly at first and then heavy. Like driving through a car wash.

My family has a cottage about 40 minutes from there so the plan was to spend the night there and then do some more riding the next day. As I was driving I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast so I stopped at a local market and got some food. While sitting in the cottage I started to make plans for the next day. I had toyed with the idea of spending the morning riding around that area but ultimately decided against it. Instead, one other destination on my “one of these days” list was about an hour away. So the next morning I headed east to Hartwick Pines State Park.

I originally thought there was a trail there. I misunderstood. There were two I soon discovered.  I followed the trail as I was driving from Grayling to the park. It runs parallel to the road. When I got to the park the trail ended (began?) at the entrance. However there was no place to park. So I entered the park hoping to ask the park ranger but none was on duty. So I drove about looking for a trailhead but couldn’t find one. So I drove over to the Visitor Center and hoped I could find someone there.

Luckily there were three people there with only themselves to talk to. I think they were happy to see me and were anxious to help. I told them I was looking for the trailhead and this nice woman immediately said, “Sure. It’s right at the end of the parking lot. You just go this way (she pointed) and you’ll see it.” I was thinking that this was some distance from the trail I saw, but okay. “You’re right here”, she point to a map taped to the counter, “and there’s a 3 mile, 5 mile, and 7.5 mile loop that you can follow.” (Loop??) I thanked her and went in search of the entrance.

I found it easily enough and as soon as I entered I realized that my query should have been more specific. This trail was different from the one I was asking about. This trail was a primitive path designed for mountain or fat tire bikes. Not my little urban runabout. But…when in Rome….

So I began my ride thinking a 5 mile loop (now that I understood that nomenclature) would be just about right. The trail immediately went uphill…and then uphill again. When I got to the top of that hill I saw that it went (you guessed it) uphill a third time. Then it went downhill….severely. I wasn’t sure if I was going to coast down or fall off.

It leveled off a bit and then started a series of hills again. I remember thinking it was like the old joke…..”up hill both ways”. I also remember amending my distance to the 3 mile loop and still wasn’t entirely sure I would make it. The path was dirt, punctuated with tree roots and small holes, and a mixture of dirt and very soft sand. When the tires hit the sand it was like riding on ice and then I would bog down as the sand deepened.

The path opened into a beautiful meadow and flattened out. It was at this moment that I thought of a couple of friends who look forward to this kind of ride and do it often. And I briefly understood why. And then I went uphill again…..and again.  On one hill there was a stretch of sand that bogged me down enough that I had to get off and walk.  On another hill I missed a shift and ended up walking again about 30 feet. Those were the only times I walked. I managed to ride the rest.

When I finally emerged from the trail into the parking lot there was a young couple about to hike it. They saw me riding (I’m being generous to abilities here) down the hill that I had earlier ridden up and cautiously waited for me. “Good morning! How are you doing today?”, they asked. “I’m tuckered out”, I said. But I realized I was grinning. That wasn’t the trail I had intended to ride and I will go back soon to ride that one. But I may take another crack at the forest too. It had never occurred to me that I could ride that bugger, but now that I have I may have to consider a return trip. I’m not over confident, but I do feel somewhat emboldened.

I loaded up the bike and checked the odometer. The lady told me it was a 3 mile loop, but my bike said it was almost 4 miles…….and my body suggested it was closer to 30 miles.

Then I checked my watch. It was just 10:30 on Saturday morning. As I had mentioned in a previous blog, my friend Tom Heideman has an internet radio show on Twisted Road Radio from 11:00-1:00. He told me he was going to play my song “A Fond Farewell” at the very end and I was only 90 minutes from home. So I hightailed out of there and got home in time for lunch with Tom. And I still had time later for a snack and a nap.

Tunes With Tom

I am a creature of habit. My wife teases me about it often. But my routines keep me productive. I get stuff done because I follow my routines. The downside is that I’ve become complacent. My habits are comforting, like an old pair of sneakers. And, like a lot of old people, I don’t care for change. I don’t find change to be exciting. Instead it’s usually a bit unsettling.

Recently I interviewed Tom Heideman for my podcast. Tom is a singer/songwriter that I’ve known and admired for over twenty years. He also has an internet radio show on Saturdays from 11:00am-1:00pm. I had never listened to it because, well…..it’s new. It’s not part of my routine and I didn’t know what kind of music he played but I knew it would be different from the music I normally listen to……and that can’t be good. But in the name of “research” I tuned in a couple weeks ago.

Internet radio is very different from what I imagined. First of all I needed to find the website. Then I needed to figure out how to tune in and listen on my computer. So I’m already a long way from my comfort zone. But it’s Tom…..he’s a friend……..and a guest on my show. So I guess I’ll just “man up” and deal with it. (Insert audible sigh here).

It turns out that it wasn’t that tricky after all. Just a couple of clicks of the mouse and I was in. I came into the show several minutes after it started and was greeted with a really cool, kind of jazzy tune. I also noted there was a live chat room. People were engaged in pleasantries (remember pleasantries? Pleasantries seem to be in short supply these days.) discussing the song they were listening to as well as other songs they had heard by the same artist. And, in this case, the artist was also a part of the discussion.

I “lurked” for a few minutes and then simply typed “Good morning Tom” and was immediately greeted by several others and welcomed into the group. That encouraged me to become a semi-active participant. (I didn’t want to be pushy and I wasn’t sure of proper chat room etiquette)

Then came the next song. It was a soft acoustic ballad. A far cry from the one before it. Each successive song was different from the others. What a pleasant change! (Wait! Did I just say that out loud?) And it quickly became apparent that these were indy productions….and they were good…..mostly. Some of the production qualities were a bit sub-par, but once you learn to listen past that you will enjoy yourself. And if you don’t like the song you’re currently listening to, just wait a minute. The next one will be different.

I’ve been advocating “buy local” for years as a point of principle and philosophy, but it turns out there is a much more practical reason for doing so. This is just plain, old, great music. In many ways this is the way it was when I was growing up. The local radio station played a wide variety of music from rock, to country, to polkas, to big band. Radio today is formatted and the music has a sameness about it. Ok…I know that’s comforting. Believe me….I get it. But “Tunes With Tom” (that’s the name of his show) is eclectic. It’s new and exciting (geez…there I go again).

I revisited the show again last Saturday morning. This time it wasn’t for research or to be polite to a friend. I went back because I really enjoy it. And I honestly expect to be a regular listener and participant…..routinely.

If you have some spare time on a Saturday from 11-1 take a moment and listen to Tunes With Tom on Twisted Road Radio. It might became a part of your routine too.

Never Forget

“We will never forget.” We’ve all said it. My parents said it about Pearl Harbor in 1941. Their parents said it about Armistice Day in 1918. As a teenager I also said it about the Kennedy assassination. The problem is that events that happened before we were born are not remembered. Oh, we learn about them in school and memorize the important dates and names long enough to pass a test and then we move on.

I remember as a child my father would talk about the Great Depression and WWII, events that had a huge impact on his life, but barely budged the needle in mine. He became frustrated and angry because I just didn’t get it.

I understand his reaction now. I’m the patriarch of a sprawling family and I have adult grandchildren who don’t remember 9/11. It happened 22 years ago and for someone in their early twenties there is no personal recollection. And if there is then it’s a very dim memory. When I speak with my young students about their American History classes it seems odd to me that these abstract names, places, and dates that they are learning are a part of my life and had some influence on the man I became. Younger generations visiting the Viet Nam Memorial don’t totally understand why their grandfathers weep when reading the names. I remember seeing the Iwo Jima memorial with my father and watching him get lost in his memories.

I don’t think that “fortunately” is the proper word, but I’m grateful that we have images to rely on. From Matthew Brady’s primitive photos of the Civil War to recent news videos, we have captured the memories that would have otherwise been lost. However they can only provide a foggy reflection of the emotions that those people felt as the news reached them. The denial, the disbelief, the horror of acceptance, and the unsettling concern of “what’s next”. Those questions have been resolved by the time the history books are written.

“Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.” Historically speaking we do forget. Currently there are those who are convinced that everyone should live by the rules that they live by and are willing to use violence to achieve that purpose. Others are greedy and willing to subjugate entire populations to enrich themselves. The worst part is that they have convinced themselves, and their followers, that they are the righteous ones and therefore entitled to do these things. Most of the political and economic disasters of the past has been caused by just a few of these people and a handful of their friends.

Civilizations come and go but human behavior remains fairly constant. Most people just want a life with the assurance of food, shelter, and peace. In the U.S. we call it “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”. The wording is different in other cultures but the meaning remains the same. But there always seems to be someone determined to keep it from happening. In order to try and prevent them from doing it we must do more than “never forget”. We need to actively remember.

Customer Service

Customer service is not a relic of the past but it sure seems like it some days. I’ve had difficulties with a streaming service for the past month or so and the aggravation was exaggerated by my inability to get the company to address the situation. Whenever I clicked on the “Help” button (you can’t actually talk to a person anymore it seems) I got a bot that would offer solutions to problems that I didn’t have or direct me to YouTube videos that showed me how to do the things I was already doing. So I’ve moved on. I dropped their service and replaced it with another. Within minutes they sent me emails asking to call them 24/7 to resolve the issue. Too little too late.

I know that you all have similar stories to tell. It’s frustrating. That’s why it’s always refreshing to hear stories about companies and/or people who go out of their way to offer a great product/service and also bending over backward to satisfy the customer.

When I was just starting out as a full-time guitar teacher I told a friend of mine (a piano teacher) that I wanted to be the best in the world. He went off on me for about ten minutes explaining why that was a very stupid goal. “It’s unmeasurable. There’s always going to be someone better. You’ll burn out trying to catch the wind. And so on..”

I explained that he was missing the point. The goal was to never become complacent. To be a much better teacher at 65 that at 30. That’s the only way I can keep from becoming bored. Although it’s worked and I’ve received a lot of compliments from my students and their parents over the years, I’ve never felt comfortable accepting those kind words. I’ve always known I could do even better. I was raised to “always do your best”. That code has allowed me to be successful enough to earn a modest living.

When I heard of Jimmy Buffets death this week I recognized that same ethos. I like his music (it’s hard not to) but I’m not a “parrot head”. However I really admired his desire to take care of his fans. It’s not just good business (although it most certainly is that) but it’s also the right thing to do. Taylor Swift has made a career out of taking care of her fans and her “Eras” tour is a true phenomenon.

In the late sixties and early seventies the rock and roll acts acted as if the fans were a necessary nuisance. They would even turn their backs to the audience while they played. It took acts like Alice Cooper and Kiss to break that mold. The Grateful Dead even encouraged their fans to make recordings of the concert and distribute the bootlegs. In the meantime country artists would meet their fans at Opryland and spend a day signing autographs and briefly chatting with each one. They had an understanding of the importance of showing gratitude to the folks that supported them.

We all work hard for our money and if we choose to spend it we would like to be appreciated and respected. Most companies at least try to. When they fall down on the job we usually understand. But when they don’t seem to care we get angry. If I ever act that way toward a student or customer I hope someone will hold me to account. I would like to be better at this at 95 than I was at 65 and that’s the only way I know how to do it.

House Concerts

This past February on the Sunday following the Super Bowl my wife and I hosted a house concert. The performer was classical guitarist Brad DeRoche. Brad is a friend and we’ve had many conversations about the future of classical guitar and we’ve often theorized about the importance of small intimate events like this one.

We were both pleased that this event was a huge success. My wife said that one of the guests commented that it was “an elegant way to spend a Sunday afternoon”. There were a dozen guests who were treated to an hour of beautiful guitar music. Up close and personal, as it were. The music was followed by light refreshments and conversation. Everyone had the opportunity to spend a few moments with the artist. They had all been informed that donations would be solicited to pay Brad and, in addition, he has/had a CD for sale.

One of the guests was inspired by the event and hosted his own house concert a few months later. The artist was a different classical guitarist and there were many more guests invited. A little wine and cheese on the patio afterward completed a wonderful Saturday evening.

I had attended a couple of house concerts in the past, but these post-pandemic events seem to take on a new importance. I interviewed composer/guitarist Anthony Glise for my podcast recently and mentioned this. Anthony lives in northern France and he said that this is becoming a big thing in Europe. And a few of my European counterparts have been posting pictures on social media of the various venues they are now performing in. The ubiquitous churches, of course, but also garden recitals and house concerts.

We tend to think of live music as being a loud and exuberant event. And it most certainly can be that. Whether it’s “stadium” size concerts or clubs. And classical music gets a bad rap as being stuffy and stodgy. But music in someone’s home played to a handful of appreciative people is very different. It touches you in ways very different than the raucous places. And guitar music exemplifies that. Even when it’s loud it really isn’t very loud. When it’s soft it whispers gently. A world unto itself that is visited too seldom by many who’s soul would benefit.

After one such event a college student of mine summed it up. “I’ve attended concerts my entire life”, she said. “My parents took me to stadium concerts, symphonies, the ballet, and opera. We attended jazz and folk festivals too. But this is the first time I’ve sat in a small room and watched a lone guitarist (who didn’t sing) create an entire universe and suck me into it.”

I hope to host another some day and I hope you’ll consider hosting one too. I hope to attend several more in the future and I hope you attend a few also. You know……if we each host one then we can give new meaning to the phrase, “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

Down The Rabbit Hole

If you could read my mind you’d probably need therapy soon after. It’s pretty messy in there. For example, a colleague recently complained about using iMovie to make his music videos. The problem had to do with syncing sound with the video and he had run into a glitch that I had never heard of. (I won’t bore you with the details.) So I told him that we should get together at some point and work toward a solution.

I found the problem intriguing and have been thinking about it (on and off) for a couple of weeks. So I’ve spent some time looking at alternative production techniques in hopes of coming up with a miracle solution. Then I can come riding in heroically on a white horse and…..well you get the idea.

Yesterday I spent a couple of hours on YouTube (The University of YouTube?) watching different how-to videos hoping to find an answer. Surprisingly I haven’t found any that reference that specific problem so I’m going to need to ask him some additional questions. But I did come across a couple of points made that may hold the key. We’ll see.

Now it’s important to understand that artists (especially musicians) are nearly always broke so the fix needs to be cheap. Free would be best. But then, nobody wants to pay for anything anymore so there is that…..    That’s why so many of us use GarageBand and iMovie. These programs are very good and come free with our Macs.

A couple of the videos referenced a video editing program called DaVinci Resolve so I looked them up online and discovered that there are two versions. The first one is free and the second is only $300. Apparently the second one is a go-too tool for many major Hollywood studios. (who knew?) But the free one is amazing and has features that are generally found in some very expensive software.

So then I went back to YouTube to watch how-videos for this program. There is so much that can be done that the learning curve seems quite steep. But, as I’m watching the first tutorial (over 40 minutes long), my mind starts to imagine the various ways I could use it for myself. I started to imagine putting together many different types of projects. I was, and am, quite inspired.

Maybe I should get a decent camera (used of course). So I made a trip to ebay to see what was available. I also know that I would need a decent set of lights so I checked into that too. And if I’m going to get all of that maybe I should consider turning our spare bedroom into video studio. I would probably need a new computer dedicated to just media production.

As my head reeled with the possibilities and my imagination went head-long down the rabbit hole another quiet thought infiltrated the chaos. Maybe I should just turn off my computer and go practice my guitar.

I can refer you to a decent shrink if you need.

Actors/Writers Strike

“Nothing happens until something is sold” is an adage I learned as a young man. I’m fairly certain that some will disagree but it has a pretty firm foundation……at least for the purposes of this post.

There are people who create stuff but don’t know what to do with it. Oh, you can sell it to your friends if they’re good friends who have a spare dollar or two. Or you can sell to your family members if you’re not currently feuding with them. But that’s hardly a sustainable plan for a successful future.

“Sales” is currently one of the highest paid professions. It’s a specialty that requires an outgoing personality, skill, determination, and self discipline. Most people don’t have all of those qualities and hardly any creators do. Creators want to spend their time……well….creating. Entertainers need to practice/rehearse. Finding gigs is hard and requires time they consider better spent.

Sales people need stuff to sell. They don’t invent, manufacture, or create in any substantive manner. But if you give them the right product or service they can work wonders. As a musician/recording artist I get bombarded daily with offers to help me become a star……for a fee of course.

The entertainment that you and I enjoy comes to us via collaboration between writers/composers, performers, various technical folks (these people are amazing wizards), and sales. For every concert you attend or movie you watch there is a bunch of people behind the scenes making it possible. The problem is when some people get greedy and things get out of balance.

The music business has been rife with this since the beginning. Record companies and promoters have taken advantage of artists often to their own detriment. Some of these people would butcher the goose that lays the golden egg just to have a nice Sunday dinner.

It would appear that this is what’s going on in Hollywood currently. Actors, other than the biggest stars in hit productions, are just working stiffs. They don’t get paid big bucks and they don’t get paid often. For them it’s a “gig” lifestyle. The same for writers. And yet, without them there would be no production. So when a show is a hit and the majority of actors on that hit still have to keep a day job while the studio (sales team) lives in the lap of luxury……..well the goose isn’t dead yet, but it definitely has a fever.

And none of these people would have any kind of a job if someone didn’t write the stories. The usually fertile imaginations of these folks generally keep us entertained for many hours every day. If your affluence depended on their creativity why would you underpay them? I would pamper them in hopes that they will continue to crank out wonderful stuff.

I hope, for the sake of my friends in the movie/tv industry that things get properly settled in Hollywood. I would love to see them back to work and earning a proper living.

Perhaps I’m just being naive and that’s why I’m just stumbling along hoping to make the next mortgage payment. I don’t understand these things as well as I should and I’m not very good at selling. By the way, have you visited www.rogerhumphrey.com/store yet? (Can’t blame a guy for trying)

August Musings

Summer is nearly over. It seems like it just began. I’m watching the back-to-school advertisements and making my own plans for Labor Day weekend. The children in my family are buying clothes and supplies.

Several of my students have taken a substantial amount of time off this summer and others have taken the entire summer off and will return in September. So I’ve had more time available for other things.

I did something that I’ve never really done as an adult this summer. I took two weeks off from teaching and spent a few of those days on a trip with my wife. I have always worked six or seven days a week just to make ends meet. It was just never possible to just take some time off and go places. I’m not complaining. I chose this life and turned down several offers to walk away from it for greener pastures. But choices always have consequences and time was one of my sacrifices.

I feel fortunate that I’m finally able to do little things like take trips and have time to spend with my family. I’m also lucky that I’m able to segue into other things. Old age has saddled me with shaky hands. Not real bad but bad enough that I won’t play publicly now. But I keep busy with things I had never considered before. Yes, I still teach some, but I also have a Patreon page where I offer new original arrangements of four songs every two weeks. I just started a virtual store on my website.  I have a podcast that is gradually changing into a focus on fine arts (all disciplines), and, oh yeah, this blog. I no longer practice 3-5 hours daily but I sure enough keep busy.

By and large any deadlines that I may have are self-imposed. No matter how uncomfortable it makes me, I can postpone or even ignore them. I know a lot of people who wish they had that option.

And so I look at mid-August with mixed emotions. I’m sad that the warm weather will be leaving soon. I’m happy that I’ll be resuming my normal teaching schedule and will be able to see all of my students again. I’m sad that Halloween decorations are popping up in the chain stores. I’m happy that Halloween candy is popping up in the chain stores. I won’t miss anything that is “Christmas in July” and I’m not looking forward to “pumpkin spice” everything.

More than anything I’m reminded of just how many Labor Day weekends I’ve seen already and that these are limited occurrences for all of us. So, with simple resignation, I seeming hurtle toward another. Too often I refuse to acknowledge that most of my “future” is now in the past. That doesn’t keep me from looking forward to it but it does give me a good reason to buy a bag of Halloween candy in August.

Seeking Magic

Sometimes you’ve just got to smile. I love working with my students (usually), but I get the feeling that occasionally they are just not into it. I get it. I play and teach guitar for a living and sometimes I’m just not into it either. But when they are into it and really interested it becomes a real treat to spend time with them.

I was thinking of a couple of different students recently who were not a lot of fun early on. Oh, the first few weeks were fun but then the honeymoon was over and the reality set in. There was no magic wand and I didn’t possess any supernatural powers to make them awesome overnight. No secret potions or shaking of bones at midnight. Nope this was going to take work. A lot of it spread over weeks, months, and years. Reality can be such a bummer at times.

But that was then and this is now. The students I was thinking of are wonderful……now. They’re involved with the process and proud of their achievements (as they should be). They eventually did the work and I bit my tongue more than once and tried to be as patient as I could as they pushed back, or worse, ignored my directions. It was not an easy time for either of us. But we toughed it out and are now beginning to enjoy the process more than ever.

One of the things as I ask of them during the lesson is to play some old favorites. Their favorites, not mine. Now they get to control part of the lesson. For me it’s instructive to know what they like and frankly I’m often pleasantly surprised by their choices. The purpose of the exercise is to correct any mistakes that may have wormed their way into the music and also to use their choices as a way to teach them how to be more artistic. Once a student can comfortably play the notes of a song, then we can get into the interpretation. That’s where the magic is. That’s the moment when someone who can play the notes on the guitar becomes a musician. Or even (gasp) an artist.

One student reworked an old favorite a few weeks ago and played it for me during a recent lesson. It was technically correct, of course, but it was also just plain beautiful to listen to. He even found a couple of moments in the song that I hadn’t seen and played it in a way that was quite different than me. When I pointed that out he was, at first, apologetic. As if he had done something wrong. When I told him that, quite the opposite, he had done something wonderful he just beamed with pride.

One of my music teacher heroes is the late Nadia Boulanger. A Parisienne who dominated advanced music education in the early and mid twentieth century. Her former students are a list of some of the most successful composers of that era. The interesting thing is that each one sounds completely different and original. You would have no sense that they all studied with the same teacher. That has always been my goal too.

When I hear my students play in an honest and non-imitative way it makes me happy. Their goals may have changed with maturity and experience, but are fundamentally the same. To have fun. To play expressively without worrying about doing it the same way as everyone else. And thinking about these students doing that makes me smile.

Composing

I was teaching a student from my method book the other day and he played a Lullabye that I had written as an exercise. He played it very well and after I complimented him I casually mentioned how odd it seems to have a student play a piece of music that I had composed. I can’t say I was flattered because it was an assignment and he was just doing as he had been told. But it’s still pretty cool.

I’ve had other students learn and perform some of my other pieces before. There are a couple of pieces that I didn’t particularly care for when I wrote them that the students seem to like. That’s flattering when they continue to play them long after the assignment is completed. But I have to balance that with the songs that I wrote and really liked only to have the students show indifference or even a slight dislike for them.

Over the years I have learned that I am a horrible judge of what people like or dislike. I have often been surprised, both happily and unhappily, at their general reactions. When I first began to perform I was just playing music that was already popular so the guess work had been taken out of the process. And I always thought of myself, and the job, as a performer, not an artist. I wanted to please people.

I’ve been writing music for most of my life. Occasionally something turns out okay, but often it’s just not very good. Not necessarily bad, just kind of bland. That was terrible if I wanted to be a pop star. One of my problems is that I can’t write lyrics at all. My words were boring and insipid even by pop music standards. I couldn’t seem to get past “moon….June….and soon”. The obvious remedy would be to team with a wordsmith. But I tried that a few times and just couldn’t seem to make it work.

The next solution would be to just write instrumental music. When I focused on that, things seemed to get better. It turns out I can write a pretty melody from time to time. In my twenties I was able to compose music for some local commercials and a few documentary films. That was fun and I hoped I had a future in that, but it didn’t work out that way.

I was encouraged to write a guitar method book while in my thirties and so I started writing little exercises and etudes for my students. The goal was not to entertain, but to inform and train. My little ditties seem to work just fine.

I’ve continued to write music all these years but have written only a few that I share with others. The reactions are usually reserved and polite, but I plug along. Writing is just an itch that I have to scratch and I rarely give consideration to an audience. If something turns out nice then I might share it, but usually it just goes into a folder.

The other benefit is that I understand the process better so I can explain things to my students easier. I can honestly tell a student what the composer is doing, or trying to do, as we read the notes from the page. It’s also easier to spot a mistake by an arranger and make necessary corrections. Also it makes the process of arranging music for solo guitar much easier. So composing is not a futile activity. I just had to readjust my goals and take the “wins” as they came.

Still, when I hear someone else play one of my songs, I think it’s pretty cool.

Location, Location, Location

Recently I was scrolling through my photos looking for a particular shot to show a friend. Like many of you, I have a lot of pictures of all kinds of stuff, most of which could be (and should be) deleted. However, I have a lot of photos of many of the places I’ve performed at and I realized just how beautiful most of these places are.

I haven’t played in public in three years and there are parts of that work that I don’t miss. But the locations were special. How many people retire from their work and miss the actual workplace? I mean there are people we miss and certain parts of the job that we really enjoyed, but the physical space?

In the early years, when I was still strumming and singing, I found myself playing in some pretty peculiar places. Some were OK, but some were real dumps. And I had to deal with drunks regularly. A couple of places were affectionately referred to as “knife and gun” clubs. The joke went, “When you go in they check you for weapons. If you don’t have any then one will be issued to you.” It was only marginally a joke. Talk to anyone in a band and I’m sure they will have similar stories of their own.

In my 30s, after nearly a ten year hiatus, I began performing classical music instead of popular music and the nature of my gigs changed. I played at a few nice clubs, private parties, corporate events, etc. Instead of a bar, I found myself in hotel conference rooms, private homes, art galleries and other very nice venues. When I played concerts I performed in auditoriums, churches, libraries, and private homes.

About twenty years ago I began to specialize in destination weddings. I played both ceremonies and receptions throughout northern Michigan, but particularly on Mackinac Island. These venues were beautiful and elegant. Most, but not all, were outside.  I would usually arrive early to set up my equipment and then have a few moments to warm-up before the guests arrived. I almost always took time to appreciate how fortunate I was to be there. I was getting paid well to play beautiful music in a beautiful location for some very joyful people.

No job is perfect and it’s easy to get caught up in the things that make you grumpy. Usually when autumn arrived I was happy the season was over and that I didn’t have anymore weddings to play for awhile. But by the time spring arrived I was getting excited all over again.

So today, as I look out my window and see the sun shining and hear the birds singing I miss the promise of a new season of events. The excitement that I remember is now replaced with peace and calm. I don’t miss the work. I’ve played a lot of gigs and was thrilled to do so, but it’s time for the old man to get out of the way and make room for the next generation. But I miss the venues. The beauty of the architecture. The palpable reverence of each church I was invited to. But especially the outdoor spaces with their gardens, well groomed, manicured, fragrant, bursting with color, and alive with bees, butterflies, and other critters. Many of these places are not open to the general public, so I’ll never see them again except for the photos in my phone.

Not surprisingly, I follow a lot of musicians on social media. When they post pictures of the venue they are about to perform in (usually with the caption, “Today’s office”) I think “Gee, I’d really like to play a concert there”. The lure is not the concert but, rather, the lure is the room. The performance is an excuse for being swallowed by the space and to know that I’m one of the lucky few to have the privilege.

I don’t expect to ever perform in public again, but I practice every day as if I still have one more concert in me. A once and always showoff I guess.

March Madness

I’m not much of a sports fan. I’m not anti-sports either. It’s just that I was never any good at sports and it’s hard for me to relate to the action. And because I rarely watch I don’t understand a lot of the nuances. If you ever hear me discussing scores it’s probably in reference to Mozart, Beethoven, or one of those guys. But, for reasons I do not understand, I’ve recently been following the college basketball championships closely.

A commercial for a national sporting goods chain features many reasons why playing sports is good for children. You can probably guess the reasons: team work, goal setting, better grades in school, improved social behavior, etc. These are all good things and I whole-heartedly approve. But the same can usually be said for music education. Additionally, school choir and band programs accept nearly everyone into their ranks. Sports teams need to limit the number of players they can have, but not music groups. The more the merrier.

My number one reason for not playing sports, and it’s not like I didn’t try, was that I am naturally clumsy. You’ve seen those people who are naturally coordinated and seem to play nearly any sport well? Well it’s people like me that balance the cosmic scales. However, when I joined my school choir in the fifth grade I felt like I belonged. I was neither the best or worst, just one of the kids trying my darnedest to keep up. As I looked around I realized this was my team.

We would practice twice a week. We didn’t have a seasonal game schedule and the accompanying win/loss record. We performed one concert near the end of the semester. Instead of points on a scoreboard or conference rankings, we had applause. Boy can you get hooked on applause. At least I did. A lot of actors and dancers that I’ve met have similar stories to tell.

Other artists or art students have different stories to tell. A painter, sculptor, or writer will work in, what seems at time, solitary confinement. When they finally finish their creation they put it on display but still manage to live anonymously even if we know their names. But, like the athletes, they have found the place where they feel like they belong. The place where they have a creative outlet.

So, as we careen through March Madness, I feel exhilarated watching the teams give their best and feeling the excitement of the crowds. Of course, the media hype magnifies this. But I’m also a bit disappointed that we don’t do the same for the arts. And I’m not just talking about performing arts either. While there are outlets and opportunities for them, the media is not very good at letting the world know about them beyond the world of pop culture. That’s a bit like only promoting professional wrestling and leaving the rest to muddle along.

I don’t have a solution. I’ll leave that to people who are smarter than me. But I wish our education system valued the arts as much as they do sports. The irony is that few people remember the winners of the last Olympics but we know the works of DaVinci, Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Mozart, et al. And you rarely hear of an adult who still suffers from an old “drawing” injury.

The Uke and I

I had never given the ukulele much serious consideration. I was after all a Classical Guitarist and couldn’t be bothered with such a lowly instrument. Gawd! What a pompous dork!

About twenty years ago I was approached by two college students who asked if I could teach them how to play ukulele. They were going to be in a sorority sketch at the end of the school year and they wanted to play and sing a song. Of course being who I was at the time I insisted that they learn to read music for the instrument. So they did (sort of) and in spite of my efforts they learned the chords they needed and ultimately performed in the sketch. Honestly I didn’t know much more than they did and was learning at the same time as they, except I managed to stay about two lessons ahead of them.

Then about ten years ago I was asked if I would be willing to teach a beginning class at Marshall Music (where I taught) and agreed. The class never materialized but the opportunity wasn’t wasted on me. I began to realize that the uke offered the general public the chance to play and enjoy music on a very different level than what I was offering. I no longer felt the need to create virtuosos (virtuosi?), but instead just to create a fun atmosphere.

During that time I happened to bump into several of my former adult students. Although they enjoyed playing the guitar they were no longer able. Usually it was because of some physical ailment, but also because they had many other interests and just didn’t want to devote that much daily time to playing. So they switched to the ukulele. They learned a few easy chords that didn’t hurt their hands and didn’t need a lot of practice time to maintain. Several joined some adult groups where they strummed and sang songs with other, like-minded folks and had fun. The stories of their escapades weren’t lost on me.

When the pandemic hit I thought it might be a nice time to offer ukulele lessons online. I also decided that I would offer the lessons to young children. They are more likely to enjoy and accept online lessons than their parents or grandparents. Also, because it’s online, I changed the frequency to two 15 minute lessons each week instead of a single half hour lesson. I also wrote the method which did not involve note reading and was designed to be used for approximately six weeks.

In spite of the fact that I don’t market these things very well at all, it was a success. All of the students wanted to continue beyond the initial six weeks and I ended up writing a follow-up book of songs and later I wrote a method that taught note reading.

As is the way of young children and their families, most of these kids quit lessons soon after the Covid restrictions began to lift. But a few remain, and as I was teaching them this week I was struck by how much laughter there was in the lesson. The joy of playing music mingled with the joy of learning new stuff is a delight to be a part of.

So I continue. Last year I created a beginning uke course for adults that can be downloaded and learned at the individuals leisure. I also gave equal inclusion on my Patreon page so that those who play can have additional tunes to learn. I will also use this as a platform to reintroduce old folk songs and children’s tunes because much of this is being lost due to neglect. Perhaps I’m tilting at windmills, but I’m having a lot of fun doing it. In addition, it gives me purpose…..a reason to get up in the morning and keep going. Besides, I’ve always been a little tilted.

Purposeful Failure

I’ve been recording music for decades. I’ve recorded five CDs (most folks are tired of hearing about it), six tutorial CDs for my students, a handful of local commercials, and a few scores for independent films. I’ve also produced a few sessions for others (a long time ago). But in all of those instances I worked in professional studios with talented engineers. These guys knew how to make my ideas and efforts a reality. And do it with a quality that I just took for granted. Paul McCartney was recently asked what made Abbey Road Studios such a great place to record and one of the reasons he cited was they’ve always had amazing engineers.

For the last few years I’ve been doing all of my own recording at home. That seems to be the way of the world anymore. I know of many award-winning guitarists who do all of their own recording and then send the files to their distributor. I don’t have all of the best-of-the-best equipment, but what I have is very good. Honestly, I would have loved to have had it forty years ago.

But having the whistles and bells is one thing. Knowing how to use them properly is quite another. I am now my own engineer and it’s a struggle for me. I still enjoy the process but I’m generally not too happy with the results. And there’s the ever present thought, “If I just buy this one piece of gear all of my issues will be solved.” I’m always looking for a checkbook solution to replace real learning. The silly thing is I have more time than I do money. The true and cheapest solution is to spend the time and learn how to do it properly.

The real problem is, of course, my own attitude. A truism of life is that if you want to do something well you first have to do it poorly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.” We’ve all said it…..we’ve all heard it. “It just takes time”, we say. That’s easy advice to give but much harder to receive.

But it seems that the only way to gain the necessary experience to be an expert is to first be a dismal failure. (I need to speak with my friend the heart surgeon about this. I’m hoping there’s a middle ground.)

Lately I’ve been doing some high quality editing. I wasn’t able to do that a year ago. So I know I’m making progress. Recently I’ve started singing again for some of my offerings on my Patreon page (you’re probably tired of hearing about that too). That’s a lot different technique than just playing solo guitar or ukulele. I’ve been around studios long enough to know how it’s done but actually doing it is another level or two up. Think changing a tire or baking a cake.

The thing is I want to make a high quality product for people. If my singing or playing is bad I know how to practice to make it better. I understand the process. But when trying to make a decent (by my standards) recording I feel like a blind squirrel looking for a nut. And don’t get me started on doing videos. That’s a whole other level of frustration.

I’m better today than I was a few years ago. And I’m truly grateful for that. But I want to create quality stuff now. I’m impatient. But I’ll keep trying to improve. (I tried to write perceiver but spellcheck kicked in and my computer started to smoke) So I follow the sage advice of that great philosopher Curly of the Three Stooges, “If at first you don’t succeed keep on sucking until you do succeed.”  (Probably doesn’t work that well in sky-diving either, now that I think about it.)

Bless the amateurs

I was speaking with an adult student one day and she made an interesting comment. “I know I’ll never be a touring pro”, she said, “but I’d like to be able to play that well.” I’ve pondered that comment for many years and I’ve paired it with the memory of many students, young and old, who had little or no desire to perform - even for family or friends.

Today with YouTube and social media the ones who do want to play for others have an opportunity to strut their stuff. I watch a lot of these videos and I’m impressed with how good many of them are. I don’t think that many of them wish to perform professionally but they truly enjoy playing.

But whether they do or don’t seek attention they have the same thing in common. They would “like to be able to play that well.” Of course most won’t. Not because of a lack of talent but, rather, a lack of the time they would need to devote daily over weeks, months, and years. But still, many play very well indeed.

Amateur musicians have been an important component in the music world for centuries. Most church choirs are comprised of amateur singers. The same with praise and worship bands. Oh you might find a few professionals sprinkled around, but the majority of musicians have day jobs and regular lives. There are community bands that are made up, largely, of former high school band “geeks” who still enjoy the band experience.

There are, of course, many adults who learned piano as children and have continued to play. You can be friends with them for years before you find out. They don’t talk about it. It’s kind of personal. Many of my guitar students are the same way. The primary difference is that it’s hard to hide a piano, so if you visit their home you will probably find out. On the other hand, the guitar can be stashed away in a closet or under a bed. So if they don’t want you to know, you won’t. I know that sounds a bit extreme but (trust me) I can name names.

The importance of these people can’t be overestimated. The fine arts need support. They always have. Popular music (and arts in general) succeeds or fails based solely on the marketplace, but the appeal of fine arts have a much narrower fan base and cannot rely on the appeal of the masses. And yet, the arts tend to improve our communities in quiet, measured ways. The amateurs seed that fan base with their knowledge, experience, and enthusiasm.

I’ve been fortunate to watch a handful of my students go on to successful professional careers. Some as performers and others as educators. I am very proud of them, as you can imagine, and will spotlight them as the situation allows. But I am equally proud of those students who have studied and practiced and achieved an impressive degree of competency but remain anonymous. I don’t ever mention them because I wish to respect their privacy. But they are the ones who attend events, purchase merchandise, and donate time and money to keep the arts afloat. It is the amateur that has afforded me my career and I shall be eternally grateful.