Listen up.

Part 1: Impetus

I recently spent a week in West Virginia on the campus of Glenville State College, where I earned my certificate in Bluegrass Performance. It was the week of the Bluegrass Ensemble’s annual concert (for some reason it has always been held in the fall…) and I was asked to both take part in the concert and help the students prepare for the festivities.
The concert this year was a tribute to Flatt & Scruggs. I worked with a couple of the banjo players to get things straightened out, helped the ensemble with working around a single microphone, and rehearsed them for a little bit while the director, Megan Darby, was busy preparing for the concert.
I arrived on Tuesday evening, which happened to be the night of the Music Department’s Music Fest concert. Basically, every ensemble in the department plays one or two songs to showcase what they are working on that semester. Granted, the ensembles had only have two months to prepare for this event, but I was struck by two things: very few students were focusing on intonation and even fewer were getting good, if any, tone from their instruments. With the exception of the brass ensemble, this was a major problem all night, bluegrass ensemble included. I took note of this, but since I’m not a teacher there and none of the students really care what I think, I didn't say anything.
The next day, I and my former instructor, Buddy Griffin, had lunch with the adjunct brass professor, Harry Rich. This discussion eventually led to tone production and quickly moved to learning tone and phrasing through active listening.

Part 2: Finding Tone

When I was getting my Associate’s in Music, I was attending a college where banjo could not be my principal instrument. During these two years, I played upright bass in the school jazz band. It had always occurred to me that if you wanted to play an instrument, you should listen to the greats. The first record I picked up (and it was an actual vinyl record...jazz always sounds better on vinyl) was Ron Carter’s “Etudes.” His tone blew my mind. My first thought was, “How can I apply this to my bass playing.” My second thought was, “How can I apply this to my banjo playing?” Wait. Applying bass tone techniques to the banjo? Yeah, that’s what I thought.
During the aforementioned lunch, I told Mr. Rich that most banjo students think they can’t learn anything from trumpet players and most trumpet players think they can’t learn anything from banjo players so they don’t listen to each other. “Oh, no,” he said. “Tone, phrasing...you can learn a lot!” Indeed, most of what I learned about playing the banjo I learned just as much from Ahmad Jamal and Ron Carter and Pablo Casal as I did from Earl Scruggs and Sonny Osborne and J.D. Crowe.
After we left the restaurant, I started thinking about what we’d talked about and it occurred to me that maybe the problem I’d heard the night before at the concert wasn't so much that students had a lack of influence, it was that they didn't know how to properly listen to those influences.

Part 3: Active Listening
When I sat active listening, I don’t mean turning on music while you study for biology or while you’re cleaning house. I don’t mean listening to a little bit and then figuring out how to play it on your instrument (although that is important in a different context). I mean putting aside all distractions and actually listening to the music. When done properly, you can hear every breath, every corner of the recording space, and, in some cases, where the musicians are sitting in the recording space. You can hear the breath going in the mouthpiece, where the picks are hitting the strings, where a note is being fretted, and how a phrase is being made. But you have to listen properly:

Step 1: Turn off all distractions; cell phones, computers, television sets, radios. Ideally, you should be alone. It also helps to turn off the lights and close your eyes.

Step 2: Choose the album and find a good pair of headphones. Play it.

Step 3: Listen and pay attention. What’s on your right? Your left? What instrument is playing the melody? Who is playing backup or counterpoint?

Step 4: When the recording is over, play it again. Focus. Listen for things that catch your ear and try to know what’s going on.

Step 5: Try to use what you have learned.

It should be noted that active listening is a skill that requires practice. You won’t be great at it the first time, but you will get better the more you do it. Eventually you will do it without thinking and you won’t even have to focus very hard. You will find yourself paying attention to the little things in your playing like you never did before. You will hear every part of the ensemble and be able to focus in on certain sounds. You will be able to hear.

Part 4: The Aftermath

I always encourage banjo players to listen to Earl Scruggs. If they are my students, I require it. I want them to know EXACTLY what he did, where he did it, and why. They learn this by listening. When they figure this out, they can play almost any style of banjo. If they give this aural attention to other styles, musicians and ensembles, they can play anything on their instrument. The most important element of music is listening. More musicians should do it. Post Script: If you are interested in pursuing a bluegrass music degree, I highly suggest checking out the Glenville program. Information can be found at http://www.glenville.edu/academics/fa_bluegrass.php.

I'm a good person. Deal with it.

I am an atheist.
I'm okay with that.
But it seems that no one else is.

More often than not when I tell people that I'm an atheist (usually after they know me for a long time), they will say something to the effect of, "I don't think you're really an atheist" or, "just wait until you get a little more life experience." Well, folks. Guess what? I'm really an atheist. I do not believe in gods, single or multiple. I don't worry about where my soul is going after I die, I don't wonder why I have a soul, I understand how evolution works (most people really don't....I mean REALLY don't), I don't need fear of hell or a god's wrath to make me be good person, and I don't need someone on a pulpit with a book telling me how to live my life.

And I'm a perfectly happy, prosperous, healthy and well-bearded person.

Now let's get a few things straight:

I don't give shit if you're religious. It doesn't bother me at all. Just don't expect me to bend over backwards to fit in line with your definition of what is right. You wouldn't do the same for me, I'm sure. And I don't expect you to. 

I don't want to make you an atheist. There are some atheists who do. Most of us don't. And for the record, I think Richard Dawkins is a giant windbag. Great biologist. Horrible spokesman for atheism. 

You can pray for me if you want. It will only make you feel better, not me.

I think children should be allowed to think for themselves rather than be forced to go to church. 

I don't want to have a debate about evolution vs. creation or theism vs. atheism. It's fucking pointless. Nothing I can say will make you question your doctrine nothing you can say will make me believe anything. Go have a coke and smile and leave me alone. 

Being a bluegrass musician, this is a hard pill to swallow for a lot of folks. It seems (more so now than ever) you are expected to be a Christian republican if you are anywhere near bluegrass. Being neither, I am usually expected to shut up and fall in line (which the Christian republicans would never do if the situation were reversed). I can't do that sometimes. And because of it, I'm afraid that I won't be able to get work. Honestly. This post should cause some fun times.

At the end of the day, I just want to be a good person. And I want you to be a good person. That means treating everyone with respect and love, regardless of their beliefs. You don't have to convert them or judge them or wonder if they are going to any version or heaven or hell. You just need to be nice.

Be nice.

I'm a bluegrass atheist.

And I'm okay with that.

Practice, work, and the talent myth.

For about four days now, I haven't been able to play an instrument. Without going into details, I acquired an injury to my thumb while cooking that prevents me from doing any finger picking. As a banjo player, you can you where that might cause some trouble. But during this "time off," I have been scouring Youtube looking for songs, masterclasses & workshops (professional musicians talking about their craft and answering questions), and inspiring performances. It is important to rehearse the mind as well as the fingers, or no Music can be made. While doing this it has occurred to me that I have my own thoughts on practicing as well as some complaints about the way people think about practicing and musical ability. I thought I would share them in case anyone wanted to read what I have to say.

Practice.
     When you practice, you should learn something. Yes, you should always start out by "warming up." Some people like scales, some etudes, some tunes...it doesn't really matter, in my opinion. Just get the fingers loose and the blood pumping and the brain working. But it should be something that you already know. REALLY know. As in you could play it in your sleep. Then the work can begin. Figure out what you want to learn (preferably before the practice session) and don't leave the practice room until you learn it. If it is a long piece, divide it into sections and work it out a piece at a time before moving on to the next section. But be prepared to spend more than an hour practicing. If you want to be a professional at any point, be prepared to spend between three and eight hours a day practicing. Sometimes more.
     When I was in college as a music major, I was ALWAYS in the practice room. Before class, between classes, after class. Basically between 7:30 and 2:00, if I wasn't in class, the bathroom or working for a teacher, I was practicing.  And all of the other music majors always made comments on my "commitment" or how they admired my ability to practice for long periods of time. Admittedly, I was well conditioned for long practices, but more on that later. I recently went back to that school and saw upon a new teachers door a flow chart printed on a piece of paper. The headline read "Should you be practicing?" with different lines leading to different situations as flow charts do. Not knowing this teacher (as she didn't know me), I knocked on the door, pointed to the sign and said, "It doesn't matter. The answer is always yes." In the restaurant business there is a saying: If you have time to lean, you have time to clean. Practice is much the same; if you have time to rest, you have time to practice.

Work.
     I was not born a musician. My family played music at an amateur level and a few members were active in the arts communities of their respective towns. But I wasn't singing harmony at age three, I couldn't tell you what instrument was playing what, and I didn't learn anything (physically, that is) from anyone I was surrounded by. I started playing violin in the school orchestra in the 6th grade. That was my introduction to music and not practicing. I tried to take up the mandolin and guitar that same year. But by the 8th grade, I have become interested in the banjo (a story unto itself). It consumed me. Every day after school, I would play until dinner time. Then I would play until bed time. Between the 8th grade and my senior year of high school, it wouldn't be a stretch to say that I regularly practiced seven hours a day. I chose not to go to school dances, sports events, or engage in a regular social calender. I still had friends, I just didn't see them outside of school. I learned a lot during this period of time, and it prepared me for the REAL learning that was ahead. You see, most of this "learning" was by myself. I had to figure things out on my own without a teacher. I was used to playing by myself most of the time. That caused some pains when I started playing with other folks.

The Talent Myth.
     During my senior year of high school I started playing with some informal jam groups as well as some local bands. In both situations, I regularly heard the phrases "you're so talented" or "you've been blessed with such talent" or "God has given you such talent." All three of which pissed me off like you would not believe. Still do, actually. I worked my butt off to learn what I knew up to that point (and would work my butt off later and am STILL working my butt off to stay on top of things). It is not because I have been blessed with some supernatural ability that I am a competent musician. It is that I have applied myself in a useful manner for my particular instrument and worked many many hours to achieve what I want. I think a lot of students get caught up in a trap of hearing parents and family members dote on how good they and how talented that they are that when they get to college (when the REAL learning begins) and they have to perform at the top of their game and be ready to be crushed by people who can play ten times better than they are, they assume they can just float by on their "talent." Well, they can't. Talent must be achieved, it is not given.

If I have been unclear about anything, let me know. I will try to clarify with future posts.

Happy Picking.

My White Whale.

For a long time now, I have wanted to be creative. My friends and family usually say something like, "But you play musical instruments! And sing! And you've written a song!" And I hate it when they say that. Yes, in some sense, I am creative. But only an incredible small portion of my creativity is being used. Mostly when I'm playing an instrument (or even, to a certain extent, singing) and am interpreting someone else's idea or regurgitating it note-for-note. I'm pretty okay with this, though.

It's all the downtime.

When I have the time to write.

And don't.

CAN'T.

About a year ago, I purchased the book Writing Better Lyrics. The author, Pat Pattison, gives a lot of exercises and ideas and examples. I haven't been able to actually do any of the exercises (nor finish the book for that matter...it's kind of a "work-through-this-section-and-then move-on" kind of thing).

Back in May, I took some time to visit my friend and songwriter-extraordinaire Jon Weisberger (http://www.facebook.com/jonweisberger) and we set out on a three hour journey to write a song. In the end, we succeeded. We found a melody. Then outlined a basic idea of what we wanted to happen. Then we haggled over words (syllables are important, folks).

I learned from this experience two things:

1). Songwriting is much harder than people make it out to be. I think most people that give you that line, "It just came out of nowhere!" are either incredibly modest, intensely secretive, or the best bullshitter you've met that day. Song most certainly do not "come out of nowhere."

2). I also learned that it is MUCH easier to write when you have someone to write with. For a majority of the session (that's what the people in the biz call it when people get together to write...I just made that up) I threw out ideas and Jon was able to distill them into lines. THEN we would haggle over words.

Since that time in May, I haven't been able to be quite as focused when I attempt to sit down with the guitar and figure out a song. I feel that since I've experienced the process, I should be able to duplicate it. But alas, I am still without a song.

Thus, I am Captain Ahab and creative writing is my Moby Dick (a metaphor, and probably not executed properly).

But I will strive on.

I've got plenty of downtime coming this winter.

Get inspiration, then go...

Well, folks. I'm in a band. It's called Jerry Butler & The Blu-J's ( www.jerrybutlerandtheblujs.com ). We have spent the majority of the last three days in a studio in the mountains of East Tennessee laying down tracks for a new all-gospel project that we hope to have released before the end of September. It was my first time in the studio with this bunch and things went surprisingly well. The rhythm guitar, bass, and banjo tracks are DONE. We will continue to work on that in the coming weeks. Stay tuned.

In other news, I received a rather zen piece of advice today that I thought I would share with you all. I sent a text message to a friend who operates a blog asking for any advice they might have for blogging and got this reply: "Don't go to your blog and search for inspiration; get inspiration, then go to your blog."

Now. Did I have any inspiration  when I started this post? Nope. I'm going to try the old "keep-writing-and-something-will-come-out" routine. Hopefully something will come out. I'm sure I will have more deep and thought provoking posts before too much longer. Having thought about this recording project so much this week, my thoughts haven't been all that inspiring. But I've got about a week and a half of down time at home starting Tuesday. Plenty of time to think.

And watch my tomatoes grow.

The First Post (cue dramatic music).

Well, here it is: the obligatory first statement of my first blog post that states that this is my first blog post. Glad I finally got that out of the way.

I guess I should tell you what I hope to achieve. This blog is completely going to be for my own sanity: I want to get things out. Music reviews, musings, banjo-centric stuff, cooking stuff, and hopefully some insights into the English language. Basically, anything I feel like putting on here is going to get put on here. So take that Society!

And a small disclaimer: I am a professional musician that works in a touring band. The opinions expressed in this blog are my own and not necessarily those of the band I'm working with.

Now. I've been in the studio all day (more about that later) and I'm going bed.