I suppose I am officially off the Blog Bandwagon. I haven’t kept a weekly post schedule since October, and I am averaging less than one a month at this point. Strangely, during this time of bloglessness, I haven’t been without a creative outlet.
When asked what instruments I play, I typically respond, “The French horn is my main instrument, but I have done quite a bit of choral singing as well.” When I get the “Ok. That sounds lame,” expression, I sometimes throw in, “And I suck at the guitar.” Although this always gets a laugh, it is, regrettably, true. Whereas I understand how the horn works, and how to manipulate it to get the desired sound, I haven’t a clue where to begin on the guitar. I can play chord progressions, but generally these are some form of G – C – D - G, in a slightly higher or lower key. I can’t really play anything that doesn’t involve strumming. Individual notes are right out.
Given my incompetence, I was surprised when I started writing songs a couple of months ago. I hadn’t played in ages (this being a serious problem with guitar, as you need calluses on your fingers to avoid serious pain), and knew I couldn’t just start playing. My solution was to drink away the pain; I had enough alcohol to, at once, numb my fingers and inspire several songs.
That night I ended up recording what would be three songs onto my Powerbook. Two of them are too eclectic, and one sounds like me trying to be someone else. So, I didn’t try it again the next night. Besides, alcohol is expensive.
It wasn’t until late July that I would write again. This time I didn’t need the alcohol, I had a night-long fiasco to inspire me. Strangely, as I was trying to write a song about my Fucking Curse, I managed to create two other songs. Then, as if my creativity were saying, “You’ll do what I say, punk.” I wrote a song about the curse.
