‘If it were easy, everyone would be doing it.’
‘Hey look, everyone is doing it.’
Authors note: Before I trudge forward, I must say that I encourage music in every form and fashion, and I encourage people to learn and create and hone their craft.
I read somewhere that 1 in 5 people in the US own a guitar. By my maths, that’s AT LEAST 100 people. With that many guitars out there, no campfire should be without (yeah, I was that guy at Spring Break once) songs then potential firewood. (Cue Circle of Life). I have no research into the arts and who does what by comparison, but I have a few thoughts, and some bold reality statements to make about what makes us want to create, then possibly quit.
When we play music, there is something inside of us that is stirred. It happens when we first start playing; we master a lick or chord, and once those notes ring true, they start to build on each other until your soul is touched by the actions from your fingers or voice. This goes for anything we love, really, like the proper mixture in cooking or the hum of a tuned up engine. It hits differently for everyone, and it’s much different to the untrained.
That vibe feels so good. When you hit a groove, or find a new way around your instrument, or finding the tone that’s in your head and being able to produce it in the real world, that is something that is uniquely yours. Unless you are into guitars, you wouldn’t understand. I don’t get such vibes over the latest Starbucks offerings every season, but some do, so it could be similar.
So enter the millions of guitar owners in this country. I am here to dissect why, oh why, does it feel like music is the ‘art of choice’? First, music has been around longer than pants, so it’s obviously enjoyed more than pants. Also, it is scientifically proven that people who play music as a youngster unlock different parts of the brain that assist in learning. Sure. We got that, too. But why, oh why do I not hear the same of other arts?
I could be out of the loop. I live in a sheltered musical little bubble, so if there is a sculpting revolution afoot, please let me know.
So why music? Is it the instant gratification? Music is truly its own reward. If I am troubled, I turn to guitar or bass or piano and start playing. No direction, no structure, I just start. It helps unlock a lot that needs to come out, and occasionally, there is something special that happens.
I found an Instagram account of a guy who makes amazing portraits using only a vintage typewriter. Each of these portraits must take days and weeks to plan and bring to fruition. A direct comparison for me would be recording a full song. Here’s where I am lost, or maybe impatient. A single keystroke wouldn’t ignite my fire. A single note can. 5 keystrokes, still nothing. 5 notes and I have a riff. The immediate payoff is the win for me.
Painting has to be the same way. Each stroke means something, but there is payoff way down the line rather than in each dot or line. Patience is key. Finding your way to become who you are as a painter goes into a long, long journey. Playing a G chord on a guitar is, well, playing a G chord.
So maybe we are an impatient lot. I know I can be. I love walking through museums to see the artistry in a work seldom seen today. I’m amazed at seeing wood and stone carvings that took years to finish. Who has that time? In a world before sports and the internet, apparently all the time in the world. What’s left? Something that will be enjoyed for a millennia.
Sadly, most of the painters and sculptors aren’t recognized in their lives, leaving a troubled trail of works behind, created in poverty and downright depression. Don’t feel sad for them, we have it much worse today with the 24/7 accessibility as to what everyone else is doing, which then makes us feel inferior to everyone else. But you know what we have? 70 million guitars littering the landscape (my wife would say half are in our garage…), and we are quick to try and make it into the annuals of musical history.
I don’t want to kill the dream. I want to encourage the dream, because the dream is real. I am 137 years old and I still dream. We’ve been screaming this for years, but there is no ‘fast track’. There are shortcuts, but then you are just selling yourself short. There is no practice like practice. Yes, we use technology to fix a lot, and I get it. I’m guilty. I punch with the best and the rest. At some point, however, you have to play.
Or do you? 3 chords and the truth will set you free, correct? Learn three chords, and then you start writing songs. It’s a blessing and a curse. There are some happy accidents that happen in this process, but I sort of equate that to Pre-K finger painting. Yes, you made something that is cool and could pass for modern art, but you truly have no idea what you just did.
The funniest notion to me is when people say “that sounds like a great song’. Fred LeBlanc from Cowboy Mouth told me that when people come to him with song ideas he says ‘Great – go write it!’ He’s not being mean, he’s just saying if you want to call yourself a songwriter, then go write. Don’t just have one line and pawn the rest off on someone and call it a co-write. (Don’t get me started on that, either, Nashville…) Dua Lipa wrote 99 songs for her latest record. 99. They trashed most of them, and with good reason. You can get lucky once, but beyond that you have to truly perform.
Writing songs is hard. Being a relevant band for over 3 years is hard as well. Want to revive your career? Go to Nashville and cut a country record! It’s too easy. Yes, I’d love to play on your record, but do I think this is ‘you’? In Darius Rucker’s case, yes. He’s a reformed redneck (and a long-time friend, so don’t get all bunched up), and his work with his other band ‘project’ of 30 years has country written all over it.
Even if the song only has three chords, there is still art to it all, still magic. You can write for the masses, or write for magic, or if you are lucky, you hit both. That is the golden road. Hopefully the latter makes you money in your lifetime and you can be proud of your catalog. Helpful hint: write pop songs under a pseudonym and you’ll feel better about it all. ‘It’s not me – it’s HIM!’ Look up Luke the Drifter. He knew who he wanted to be, but also how to feed his family.
‘So practice, young and old, and make your fingers nimble
For the money you make in music will fit inside a thimble
Accolades and ‘likes’ will not help you fall asleep
Nor be there when you are old, blankets on your feet
Play the notes for you, and maybe they take notice
And if they don’t, who cares? We’ll all lie about it in all our IG photos…’
See you on the road! (or maybe it’s a green screen…)
