A couple of years ago, when I started running my mouth about how desperately I wanted to learn how to play the guitar, I was given a pimped-out acoustic one as a gift. It’s become a decoration in my home, part of my interior design, propped up against a wall in my living room. I usually forget it’s there until someone comes into my apartment for the first time, points to it, and asks: “you play?” And all I can say is: “huh?”
Today, I had my first one-on-one lesson. I wiped some of the dust off my latest musical instrument before walking it (without any kind of carrying case) across the park. “Good luck - hope you turn the place out,” a bursting-with-pride panhandler sang out as I passed.
The place almost turned me out. Since the caseless guitar and my coat were so heavy, I didn’t feel like adding a purse or my bulging wallet to the mix. The only small items I stuffed into my pockets were a wad of cash, my phone, and my keys. The music-lesson building’s front-desk security guard scolded me for not carrying any forms of ID. “What if you were in a serious accident? We wouldn’t have any idea who you were and would have to call you Jane Doe.” This was one of the only times in my adult life that I didn’t argue or talk back when provoked. I’d been looking forward to my session for a damn long time and needed this police-academy prodigy to let me through.
When I finally met my teacher, I told him I wanted to play an Ani DiFranco song. He was all: “Uh, I don’t think so,” because she uses an atypical tuning style that’s not fit for beginners. That’s about when I lost most of my interest in this mission. The whole reason I ever signed up for guitar lessons was so I could learn an Ani song – immediately. (And the instructor later pronounced Ani’s name as “Annie.”)
I regained my composure and was shown the standard way of tuning the strings. By the time we finished this drill, I was ready to pack up my ID-free belongings and call it a wrap. But we had 50 minutes left to go.
I'm not supposed to have this much trouble mastering the basics. I had repeatedly been told that it’s usually pretty easy for people with formal musical backgrounds to pick up the guitar. I do have a formal musical background. It may have been 15-20 years ago – but it’s there.
When I got back home, I started practicing within 3 minutes of walking through the door so I wouldn’t forget any of my new skills. After successfully tuning the top few strings, I tried working on one of the lower ones, twisting and turning its tuning knob. There was a mini-explosion and a sharp sting against my hand. The string had dramatically popped off from one of its ends and is now lopsidedly dangling by a thread. So’s my future in the music-making business. Again.
For a full hour after my only “serious accident” of the day, I was taunted by the sound of my upstairs neighbor expertly strumming his own unbroken, exquisitely-tuned acoustic guitar. I sat on my couch, listening, resting my head on one of my hands. The other hand was busy tapping my old tambourine as back-up. I’m better at percussion.
Life is Great when You're not Dead
2 days ago
Didn't you have an acoustic guitar decorating your basement as a child? Thought that may have given you some practice..
ReplyDeleteI have figured out how to do comments. Just want to say, hang in there with the guitar, if it gives you pleasure.
ReplyDeleteFondly, Jain