I Hate To Watch

Given the date, one might expect this blog to be about New Years Resolutions.

I will give that subject the slightest nod: I resolve to finish my album by April and start performing my own material in February.

Nuf said.

I watched my new “Joe Bonamassa At Royal Albert Hall” DVD this week. It was awesome! If you ever get the chance to hear JB play recorded or live, do yourself a favor:

jbonamassa.com

Bonamassa was a child prodigy blues guitarist from New Hartford, New York, a place where I used to attend field band competitions in high school. Joe would have been around five or six at then time. I remember hearing about Joe in the ‘90s; playing in Rochester and around the region. When I was on tour a couple years back one of the guys on the bus turned me on to this amazing guitarist/singer who I found out later was that same kid from New Hartford that I remember hearing about (I'm so bad with names). I also saw him briefly show up in the documentary “Tom Dowd and the Language of Music. The ledgendary Tom Dowd had produced one of Joe's albums and the cameras caught Bonamassa in action enough to show that he was something extraordinary.

A clip from "Joe Bonamassa At Royal Albert Hall"

The Albert Hall DVD was great and I really enjoyed it.

Then why, after paying twenty or-so bucks for it, did I have to force myself to watch it?

It’s always been hard for me to watch music performances. I have a difficult time simply enjoying then.

When I’m in the audience, whether live or on a screen, I do two things.

I analyze: What’s the equipment? What effects are being used? What chord is that? How did he/she do that?

I postulate as to why the heck am I not on stage myself: I can’t help it, when I am in the audience all I can do is imagine myself on stage playing and asking one more question that drowns out all the others: Why is that not me there on stage? I could do that. I could do better maybe.

Even when I’m watching something non-musical I imagine my own music to it.

Whether this is healthy ambition or some tragic character flaw I’m not sure. It’s not that I don’t appreciate and honor the talent, skill and creativity of other musicians. I would just much rather be doing it than watching it. Maybe it's sad that my ability to simply enjoy experiencing the thing I love is diluted by my desires. Considering the joy I get from making music, I wouldn't trade it frankly.

As I mentioned once in the old blog, in seventh grade I took string bass lessons and was so bad at reading music that I wasn't allowed to play in the orchestra. The Jr. High orchestra was pretty bad, so I must have really wreaked!

I remember sitting in the audience for a school concert. I watched every vocal group, every band plus the orchestra perform while sitting amongst my fellow non-music classmates. I kept asking myself that same question: Why not me?

The jazz band didn’t even have a bass player for cryin’ out loud! I kept imagining what notes I would play and how much better it would sound with a bass.

The next year I was in all but one of the seven music ensembles the school offered. The exception was the seventh grade band (I was in eighth grade).

By-the-way, a new goal: to open for Joe Bonamassa.

Life is more complicated than it was in Jr. High. I want to be on stage doing my own thing but I can’t just say “I wanna be up on that stage” and expect things to happen. It’s just not that simple.

Or is it?

Even if it is simple, it ain’t easy. If it were, every four-string bass jockey would be quitting their day gig at Guitar Center, trading the Saturn for a fifteen passenger van and hitting the road.

Yes it’s going to be tough; sweat must be expelled and sacrifices must be made, but that’s a good thing. Think of it as a natural selection process, a weeding-out that prevents crappy ill-deserving, narcissistic self-severing, musicians and performers from ever reaching the World stage.

OK, so it’s more of a crackpot theory.

………………..

As promised—or at least as implied—I am going to end my blog with something my friend Jim wrote a couple years ago:

Basses and Dogs: A Comparison
By Jim Schreck

One is referred to as Man's best friend

The other pees on the carpet

Both were made for walking

One can be slapped, popped, and distorted to produce hours of creative fun

The other gets plugged into an amp

Both have sufficient volume to wake the neighborhood at 3AM

One produces a lot of sh** in the bottom end

The other produces a lo of sh** with its bottom end

Both can bark and bite

One can be modified with several electrical devices causing it to emit many scary, loud, often painful sounds

The other just gets plugged into an amp

Both looked and sounded a lot better in the store

One is linked to running jumping and catching frisbees in the mouth

The other sheds on the furniture

Both are responsible for massive amounts of drool

One is linked to such behavior as staying out all night, rolling around in garbage and copulating in the street

The other leaves its chewy toys under the couch