Becoming a musician

The Healdsburg Guitar Festival was here last weekend. Guitar makers from around the country and a few from Japan. Probably about a thousand handmade guitars being exhibited. It is an overwhelming experience for a guitar player and lover. I played maybe a dozen instruments- all a joy to hold and play- all far somewhat superior to my instruments. Two years ago I played an archtop by a Japanese maker and it was my overall favorite. Again I played another by the same maker- the feel, the look, the touch, the sound, the vibrations... So many things make a guitar a work of art.

On entering I bought another music book, called something like "An organized approach to jazz improvization". By page three I am over my head- Dorian, Frigian, Aolian, Locrian and so on. But I will take a little bite at a time. I purchase a dozen "Django" style picks and a video by Taylor Martin playing some jazz standards, amazing stuff. I can play the chords or the melody. But he plays chords, melody and bass at the same time. I am starting with learning the bass part to "Rhythm Changes", alone it sounds very cool. Now I just have to get the other fingers working in coordination. About 2 hours a day for maybe another six months and I think I would have "Rhythm Changes" mastered. Yet I do not have that time or discipline.

My love, joy and faithful companion since I was 15 years old has been my guitar, not always the same guitar but a guitar. Sometimes just to accompany my singing, usually alone, sometimes at gigs, sometime to relax, sometimes to practice. I've traveled many directions in music since those early days- pop music, the sixties folk scene, Old Tyme, Bluegrass, Irish Traditional Music and now several kinds of jazz. All have been joyful musical journeys with my companion.

Yet I have not been a faithful suitor. I have been distracted by other lovely bodies- the mandolin, the fiddle, the octomandola and yes, even for a brief time, the banjo. But I always come back to the guitar.

(That is me, by the way, in the photo. I will not tell you what year. It is my television debut in Buffalo, New York. All true!)

Benvenuto Cellini

I am reading an autobiography written in 1558 by an artist, a rogue, an opportunist, a braggart, and most of all a human being like ourselves. Benvenuto Cellini. It is my escape for now but I am dedicating this blog to him. For he and the recent CUE (Computer Using Educators) Conference that I just attend brought me to this spot and the words that I write in my first blog. Like me, he was 58 years old when he started his autobiography. Like me, he fancied himself an artist. Perhaps that is where the similarity ends. But he brings me in touch with many things I love. I love art, most of all and especially the art of the Renaissance. Cellini was a musician, albeit a reluctant musician. Cellini rubbed elbows with Popes, Medici's, Princes, Priests, artists, soldiers, writers and the common man. I love Italy- the culture, the food, the language- especially since my culinary tour in the summer of 2004. I love Cellini's fallibility, especially the contrast of his thoughtful polite responses to confrontation to his hot-headed impulsive responses. In many ways he lived a careless life and escaped death on many occasions. That he lived long enough to write this autobiography, I consider close to miraculous. My life has been spared most of physical dangers Cellini faced, save a near drowing as a child and several dangerous situations that I found myself in as a youth. But this first entry is a start and my hope is that others may find it interesting. I will not give away the entire plot, except to say that the experiences of my youth to the age of 21 was far different than that of most people who read this blog. I welcome comments and questions as we take this journey.