so, playing music with other people is funny when you yourself do not have musical training. i have always had an intense desire to be a musician. but, unfortunately, not a lot of desire to learn a lot of theory or practice. classic. i'm sure this comes from being forced to play piano for four years, age 8 to 12, and hating everything living breathing moment of it. long discussions with the parents (my sister and me both) about how they were wasting their money and how "i don't care, i won't practice anyway" and how i was not going to clean my dirty finger nails. hated hated hated it. perhaps if i was not such a wild child and prone to fits of silliness, not forced quite so often my bourgeoisie art fag parents to sit still through boring "culture," perhaps if my instructor was not such a quiet dull old lady who must have eaten the mothballs that fumigated the house....perhaps i could have found something of my own in piano. but no. it wasn't mine. it was parents living vicariously and hoping it was the right thing. it was a middle class understanding of what a child should know. it was maintaining with the joneses. it was awful, and it made me hate playing music.
why they didn't compensate with voice lessons, i have no idea. i was always singing, loudly, all the time. memorizing a lot of lyrics. trying to imitate the adult voices i was hearing on the radio. get that voice lower! i have no idea if i was any good then, as a kid. probably not. perhaps that's why the parents didn't push me in that direction. but i did eventually develop a voice i could get praise for. hey, you sing good. though i hated the culture of it, i was in chorus in high school. the little dark goth spot in the pastel theater faggotry of it all. well, i kind of liked that situation. i was hip. and with a low voice, occasionally going over to the boy's side to help out the out-numbered tenors. i liked that i could take this academic musical training - complete with lame, lame music - and make it my own.
and i got good. something it took me a while to admit to, because, by high school, i had developed a fear of music. i loved it so, and i didn't want to fail at it. all my friends were musicians, all in bands. lots of basement punk rock shows. lots of cramped car rides to little non-alcoholic venues. and, for me, lots of bobbing my head and clapping from the front row. some of these friends were extremely talented. some were very not, but i never thought ill of their music making abilities. even if it was awful, i couldn't help but be envious of their guts. their time outside of other responsibilities to get a couple friends together and bash something out. i was envious of their audacity to write songs and want other people to listen. mind you, i wanted to hear it all, i just couldn't see myself inflicting my potentially offensive sounds on anyone else. what if i sucked? i couldn’t' give myself the same appreciation i extended to everyone else.
i made a few small attempts. playing bass for one month in my friend's pre-established metal band - Agony. a hoot. never played out. then making some retarded musical atrocities with a pack of friends, some mad libs, and a fancy computer - that was a good time. we even made what must be the world's most offensive christmas album. but only ever really late at night on a living room floor, cracked out on youth and new hampshire boredom. this was me "putting myself out there." without ever really putting anything out there. no audience. no harsh, critical eye. no innocent bystander there to cast a stone. no praise, no glory either. and it was easily dismissed as silly. music just felt like this club that i was not a card-carrying member of. i was lacking.
and not to say that i didn't get support all around me to try. i got ass-loads of support. i got pushed, prodded, yelled at - just do it! you got nothing to lose! i moved to maine. again, so many musician friends. lived in a house with five guys - all musicians. lots of support/pressure. i keep hoping i'll get over it. take the plunge. instead, it gets worse. i'm paralyzed. can't pick up a guitar to practice...even if i'm sure i'm home alone. i plug in headphones, fearing they can hear the unamplified strings. only sing in the car, until the car dies, and i have no safe place.
oh, except karaoke. who knew? this is also just another layer to how stupid my insecurity is. i throw down karaoke like a motherfucker. crowd-goes-wild type of shit. no kidding. and i don't get nervous, really. no idea why. the local karaoke place gets to know me by name. i get special privileges. the dj comes over to me one night,
"why did you sing that song tonight?" a quite sunday night, no one really there but a couple of my friends.
"uh, what do you mean?"
"that's a wednesday night song." their signature 'Sketchy Wednesdays' night.
i stop going.
i try out for my friend's all-girl rock band. i'm doing some vocals, rhythm guitar. it's not working. it's not fun. something is terribly wrong. i'm not needed there. i leave.
i do back-up vocals for another friend's r&b band. we practice once. i don't really know what i'm doing. we have a gig. i'm up on stage, up front, between two black kids, trying to pull off marvin gaye. it's like in the movies, when the lights are in your eyes and you can't see. i'm noticeably nervous and freaked. i freeze, choke, drink whiskey, and leave immediately afterwards and never go back. failure failure failure.
i give up. do not touch guitars. do not do karaoke. a couple times i use my key to go to the coffeeshop i work at after hours, late at night, and sing in the dark. i know i'm losing anything i might have had. don't use it, you lose it. i'm convincing myself it's a lost cause.
my friend takes up the bass. she wants someone to play with on guitar. ok. we play a couple times, just fucking around. we're both nervous, don't know what to do. we're both just learning. ru-di-ment-tary. it's whatever.
my friend calls me up and says she's got us a drummer. uh, that makes it less whatever and more something. we meet up and walk around town. i'm tired. she tells me i'm not and that we're going to go practice with our drummer. the dread is in my heart and it becomes the last thing i want to do. much prefer to crawl in a hole. but she's persistent, and we go.
ten minutes into it, my friend goes to buy a bottle of whiskey. she's as nervous as i am. our drummer is learning, too, but is much more confident and that reflects in her playing. we take four notes and loop. and loop. we fuck around with it a little. we build a bit. we get lost, take a smoke break, and return. we switch around instruments. we talk.
it is the most comfortable music experience i have ever had.
i don't know what i'm doing and i guess i don't care. i'm ok with it. they are both ok with it. we construct and collapse, however simply and chaotically.
we are making music.
i am having a good time.
