When my sister-in-law showed me some of the cool strumming patterns her teacher had given her to practice, I realized I'd been missing something crucial. On my haphazard way to guitar mediocrity, I'd been focusing mainly on memorizing as many chord patterns as possible. As long as I could sing loudly enough, I reasoned, all I would need to do was hit the right chord every once in a while.
Not so, I'm afraid. A strumming pattern really can make or break a song. It is the difference between a quiet accompaniment and a sparkling interpretation. While I can muddle around a little until I find a strum that I like, it may not be the most consistent of beasts. So, I was very grateful when my sis-in-law generously shared her marked-up sheet music with me.
Among the pieces she gave me is "Brown-Eyed Girl," a song I can never hear without remembering a professor's horror stories about seeing a live Van Morrison performance. Apparently, during this concert, Mr. Morrison was a volatile, angry performer who would sort of lash out at the audience and throw tantrums and quit playing in the middle of songs. Hard to imagine that when you're swaying to a feel-good staple like his "Brown-Eyed Girl," isn't it?
Anyway, the prescribed strumming pattern—which omits the lovely little bridge that you're probably humming to yourself right now—is "down, down, up, rest, up, down." [For you beat counters out there, that's down (1 +), down (2), up (+), rest (3), up (+), down (4 +).] That double up with a rest in the middle is tricky for us beginners, so it took an hour or two to get that rhythm in my fingers. Then, suddenly, viola! I was playing "Brown-Eyed Girl," and I didn't even have to sing it to hear it.
The same strum was written out for the John Denver ballad "Leaving on a Jet Plane," which I pulled out next. Now that the strum was in my fingers, it was easy to try it out with a new set of chords. But something was off. Yes, the pattern was hitting the right notes, and yes, I could sing without a hitch over that rhythm, but the whole timbre of the song was wrong. "Leaving on a Jet Plane" isn't a jaunty pick-me-up like "Brown-Eyed Girl"—it's a quiet, melancholy poem. This is probably just an excuse to link to something "Glee"-related, but it should sound a little more like this version from "Glee"—with slow, melodic, open chords. My blocky little strumathon just wasn't working.
The lesson? One strum does not fit all. It's time to learn some others—and the words to "Brown-Eyed Girl," too!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
My Dog-Eared Audience
The Fourth of July is our dog's least favorite thing in life. It even aces out her other nemeses like the UPS guy and the Goodyear blimp because the Fourth of July comes with random pops, fizzles, and bangs that set her doggy heart beating away a zillion times per minute. She is personally affronted by each and every boom—and in a city that only gets one day per year to set off fireworks legally, she ends up running herself ragged telling off the world each time a neighbor lights a match.
It's an admirable effort, as this dog takes no shortcuts. If ten pops go off at once, she won't just roll them into a single two-minute tell-off. No, no, she goes into a full 20-minute soliloquy, and then follows up with two-minute barkaramas for any pops and bangs that dared to interrupt her. Let's just say that her fireworks experience usually ends way after the grand finale.
To keep her from getting so agitated, we have tried light medication—but that doesn't always work. This year, it made her slightly lethargic, but she powered through. She had plenty of stamina to keep a low, constant growl going between crazed barking leaps to the window.
It was a sorry sight, so at one point, I pulled out the guitar and started playing "Edelweiss" to her. Suddenly, she was quiet. I mean, the growling kept on, but she saved the barking for only the most offensive of light displays. Stunned, I ran through everything I knew and then just started thrashing around familiar chords so as not to break her semi-trance. Luckily, she eventually accepted a loud TV action dramedy ("Burn Notice") as a substitute sedative, or I'm sure the neighbors would have called the cops the next time I trashed "Brown-Eyed Girl."
Now, the dog is back to her happy, normal self. Is it sad to admit that it was sort of gratifying that my guitar playing finally served a purpose, even if my first real concert was for a semi-crazed canine who would probably have been equally happy with radio static? The truth, I fear, is self-evident.
It's an admirable effort, as this dog takes no shortcuts. If ten pops go off at once, she won't just roll them into a single two-minute tell-off. No, no, she goes into a full 20-minute soliloquy, and then follows up with two-minute barkaramas for any pops and bangs that dared to interrupt her. Let's just say that her fireworks experience usually ends way after the grand finale.
To keep her from getting so agitated, we have tried light medication—but that doesn't always work. This year, it made her slightly lethargic, but she powered through. She had plenty of stamina to keep a low, constant growl going between crazed barking leaps to the window.
It was a sorry sight, so at one point, I pulled out the guitar and started playing "Edelweiss" to her. Suddenly, she was quiet. I mean, the growling kept on, but she saved the barking for only the most offensive of light displays. Stunned, I ran through everything I knew and then just started thrashing around familiar chords so as not to break her semi-trance. Luckily, she eventually accepted a loud TV action dramedy ("Burn Notice") as a substitute sedative, or I'm sure the neighbors would have called the cops the next time I trashed "Brown-Eyed Girl."
Now, the dog is back to her happy, normal self. Is it sad to admit that it was sort of gratifying that my guitar playing finally served a purpose, even if my first real concert was for a semi-crazed canine who would probably have been equally happy with radio static? The truth, I fear, is self-evident.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tunes for Tots
Songs I am butchering this week:
The other day I heard singing coming from our two-year-old son's room. I peeked in the door, and there he was holding the storybook version of "The Farmer in the Dell" and belting out "the cheese stands awone!" with happy abandon.
So, of course, I ran to the computer to find the chords for the guitar accompaniment. Usually, my first stop for chords is Ultimate-Guitar.com, but I recently ran across StorytimeSongs.com, which has a lovely index of almost every children's song you can remember.
The arrangements—chords and lyrics only, no tabs—are simple, which is great for this novice. Sometimes an arrangement doesn't sound quite right—like maybe one chord is off—but the Web site is still a great free resource when you have a song emergency.
Within minutes, I was banging out "The Farmer in the Dell" like it was an old habit, and our son was singing merrily along. This was a big moment, as not so long ago, he would run away screaming when I pulled out the guitar. Hopefully, this doesn't mean I've ruined his musical ear forever!
- "The Farmer in the Dell"
- "Old MacDonald Had a Farm"
- "The Wheels on the Bus"
The other day I heard singing coming from our two-year-old son's room. I peeked in the door, and there he was holding the storybook version of "The Farmer in the Dell" and belting out "the cheese stands awone!" with happy abandon.
So, of course, I ran to the computer to find the chords for the guitar accompaniment. Usually, my first stop for chords is Ultimate-Guitar.com, but I recently ran across StorytimeSongs.com, which has a lovely index of almost every children's song you can remember.
The arrangements—chords and lyrics only, no tabs—are simple, which is great for this novice. Sometimes an arrangement doesn't sound quite right—like maybe one chord is off—but the Web site is still a great free resource when you have a song emergency.
Within minutes, I was banging out "The Farmer in the Dell" like it was an old habit, and our son was singing merrily along. This was a big moment, as not so long ago, he would run away screaming when I pulled out the guitar. Hopefully, this doesn't mean I've ruined his musical ear forever!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Getting Some Pluck
Songs I am butchering this week:
I have already waxed nostalgic here about my mom playing "Edelweiss" on her guitar for me when I was a youngster. So, you won't be surprised that "Edelweiss" is one of the first tabs I hunted down.
I found this lovely chord arrangement almost immediately, but obviously playing block chords wasn't cutting it. I tried arpeggios—that's playing the notes of each chord one string at a time—but my rhythm was pretty odd. So, my mom taught me a lovely pattern where you arpeggiate (how's that for a back formation?) up and down the chord in a soothing, lullaby rhythm. It's pretty and very easy with practice.
Anyway, I've been having fun with that, but lately, our son's favorite lullaby is "Good Night, My Someone" from The Music Man (more on this family favorite and others here). He sings along with the chorus, and it's just adorable. Also, when his Buzz Lightyear toy needs a nap, he tells him "sweet dreams," which he must have learned from this song.
Obviously, I needed to learn the accompaniment for this song, too. Unlike with "Edelweiss," however, my Google search for free chords or tabs came up empty. I did, however, find a whole page devoted to MIDI forms of songs from The Music Man. I'm allergic to MIDI music, so I didn't listen to any, but I think I'm going to have nightmares about the Mario Brothers playing little e-trombones for a long time anyway.
After the search came up empty, I did the unthinkable. I took my guitar by the neck and decided to pluck it out for myself. Using chords that I know—namely, G, D, C, an F, and a few D7s—and mom's magic arpeggio rhythm, I banged out a pretty decent approximation. Sure, this song is made for the piano, and my rendition can sound a little too heavy on the rhythm when it needs to feel quiet, but I'm going to call it a preliminary success anyway. I'm also a few hours of practice away from making the bridge of the song sound natural, but the basic chords are there.
I know that this is still Guitar 101— I mean, most of the people I know who play guitar can noodle around until they find any tune you request—but for me, this feels like Guitar 102. I'm not saying I can play requests—unless you ask for one of the seven songs I know—but at least if someone exiled me to a desert island with my guitar, I wouldn't be tempted to turn it into a six-stringed bow to hunt wildlife. Instead, I could spend my eternity plucking out all of the songs that I know and whittling the tabs onto coconut leaves. Woo-hoo!
Fun fact! Did you know that if you speed up "Good Night, My Someone," you get "76 Trombones"? Tell your friends!
- "Edelweiss" by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein
- "Goodnight, My Someone" by Meredith Wilson
I have already waxed nostalgic here about my mom playing "Edelweiss" on her guitar for me when I was a youngster. So, you won't be surprised that "Edelweiss" is one of the first tabs I hunted down.
I found this lovely chord arrangement almost immediately, but obviously playing block chords wasn't cutting it. I tried arpeggios—that's playing the notes of each chord one string at a time—but my rhythm was pretty odd. So, my mom taught me a lovely pattern where you arpeggiate (how's that for a back formation?) up and down the chord in a soothing, lullaby rhythm. It's pretty and very easy with practice.
Anyway, I've been having fun with that, but lately, our son's favorite lullaby is "Good Night, My Someone" from The Music Man (more on this family favorite and others here). He sings along with the chorus, and it's just adorable. Also, when his Buzz Lightyear toy needs a nap, he tells him "sweet dreams," which he must have learned from this song.
Obviously, I needed to learn the accompaniment for this song, too. Unlike with "Edelweiss," however, my Google search for free chords or tabs came up empty. I did, however, find a whole page devoted to MIDI forms of songs from The Music Man. I'm allergic to MIDI music, so I didn't listen to any, but I think I'm going to have nightmares about the Mario Brothers playing little e-trombones for a long time anyway.
After the search came up empty, I did the unthinkable. I took my guitar by the neck and decided to pluck it out for myself. Using chords that I know—namely, G, D, C, an F, and a few D7s—and mom's magic arpeggio rhythm, I banged out a pretty decent approximation. Sure, this song is made for the piano, and my rendition can sound a little too heavy on the rhythm when it needs to feel quiet, but I'm going to call it a preliminary success anyway. I'm also a few hours of practice away from making the bridge of the song sound natural, but the basic chords are there.
I know that this is still Guitar 101— I mean, most of the people I know who play guitar can noodle around until they find any tune you request—but for me, this feels like Guitar 102. I'm not saying I can play requests—unless you ask for one of the seven songs I know—but at least if someone exiled me to a desert island with my guitar, I wouldn't be tempted to turn it into a six-stringed bow to hunt wildlife. Instead, I could spend my eternity plucking out all of the songs that I know and whittling the tabs onto coconut leaves. Woo-hoo!
Fun fact! Did you know that if you speed up "Good Night, My Someone," you get "76 Trombones"? Tell your friends!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Changing My Tune
Oh, joy of joys! My sister-in-law and fellow guitar novice introduced me to the greatest invention ever over the weekend: The Intellitouch PT2 guitar tuner.
This delightful device hooks onto the guitar neck and literally checks your sound for good vibrations. If the string is tuned properly, you get six pointy arrows of jubilation on an electronic display. If not, you lose arrow points, which indicates which way and how much you should turn your peg.
The upshot? Fewer tears and faster tuning times. And because you're essentially tuning by sight, you can guarantee that your A string sings a sweet 440 Hz in the noisiest of rooms.
Of course, I share my mother's healthy skepticism of electronic tuning, and I feel like a slacker for not sticking to the tuning-by-ear method, no matter how miserable it's been lately. But the e-tuning demo my sister-in-law gave was very convincing. Her guitar sounded beautiful—as did her excellent rendition of Green Day's "Time of Your Life." I'm counting the days until my own magic tuning machine arrives. "The Wheels on the Bus" will never have sounded better!
This delightful device hooks onto the guitar neck and literally checks your sound for good vibrations. If the string is tuned properly, you get six pointy arrows of jubilation on an electronic display. If not, you lose arrow points, which indicates which way and how much you should turn your peg.
The upshot? Fewer tears and faster tuning times. And because you're essentially tuning by sight, you can guarantee that your A string sings a sweet 440 Hz in the noisiest of rooms.
Of course, I share my mother's healthy skepticism of electronic tuning, and I feel like a slacker for not sticking to the tuning-by-ear method, no matter how miserable it's been lately. But the e-tuning demo my sister-in-law gave was very convincing. Her guitar sounded beautiful—as did her excellent rendition of Green Day's "Time of Your Life." I'm counting the days until my own magic tuning machine arrives. "The Wheels on the Bus" will never have sounded better!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Taking Five ... Days, That Is
After dinner at the hotel lodge in Jasper, Alberta, as our family meandered back to our rooms along the lake last week, my father-in-law turned to me and asked, "Did you bring your guitar?"
I thought about the thousands of tiny toys and socks we had stuffed into every crevice of every bag and laughed out loud. "No," I admitted. "It's about the only thing we didn't bring." My father-in-law laughed but had the good grace not to look relieved.
When packing up for last week's family vacation in the beautiful Canadian Rockies, I never once thought about hauling the guitar to the airport. What with the car seat, stroller, various backpacks, roller bags, stuffed animals, and one growing toddler, we just didn't have enough hands. It was either the guitar or my changes of clothes, if you see what I'm saying.
Not only that, but I really don't have the case for airplane flying. Sure, my guitar sarcophagus makes me feel plenty secure around the little one and the not-so-little dog, but I've seen Toy Story 2 enough times to know that what goes on behind the scenes along the luggage conveyor belt just ain't pretty. For international jaunts, I need something more durable—like Iron Man's suit, perhaps.
Days later, while checking our "oversized" stroller bag at the Calgary airport, we waited patiently in line behind three hunters who were working to clear their igloos full of bear meat, hides, and skulls—not to mention their cases of bows and arrows. Just when we thought the entertainment couldn't be better, a youngish guy rolled up behind us with what looked like a Picasso sculpture of a gleaming refrigerator. A double-take revealed it to be the gigantic roller case for a bass fiddle. The thing was taller than any man in line. Between such exotic cargo, I felt pretty boring clutching a basic black bag containing a run-o'-the-mill umbrella stroller.
Even less cool was the middle-aged woman with the smart haircut who couldn't wait to fire the following salvo at the bass player: "Makes you wish you picked up the piccolo, doesn't it?"
As she proudly rounded the corner at speed-walker pace, the bass player sighed, "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
My dreadnought is perfectly puny next to the massive bass viol, but I still won't be hauling it through airports anytime soon. Of course, the week's hiatus didn't do much for my playing, although I'm happy to say that my hard-won callouses are still functional.
What with weather changes and neglect, my strings are sadly out of tune indeed, and I am out of practice. You are technically supposed to detune your guitar when you take a long break like that so that the tightened strings don't put too much tension on the neck and wreck everything, but I failed to do this what with diapers to count and tiny jeans to fold. It happens. I hope there are no dire consequences. But no matter how bad my guitar playing gets, dear lady with the smart haircut, I'm still not picking up the piccolo. So there!
I thought about the thousands of tiny toys and socks we had stuffed into every crevice of every bag and laughed out loud. "No," I admitted. "It's about the only thing we didn't bring." My father-in-law laughed but had the good grace not to look relieved.
When packing up for last week's family vacation in the beautiful Canadian Rockies, I never once thought about hauling the guitar to the airport. What with the car seat, stroller, various backpacks, roller bags, stuffed animals, and one growing toddler, we just didn't have enough hands. It was either the guitar or my changes of clothes, if you see what I'm saying.
Not only that, but I really don't have the case for airplane flying. Sure, my guitar sarcophagus makes me feel plenty secure around the little one and the not-so-little dog, but I've seen Toy Story 2 enough times to know that what goes on behind the scenes along the luggage conveyor belt just ain't pretty. For international jaunts, I need something more durable—like Iron Man's suit, perhaps.
Days later, while checking our "oversized" stroller bag at the Calgary airport, we waited patiently in line behind three hunters who were working to clear their igloos full of bear meat, hides, and skulls—not to mention their cases of bows and arrows. Just when we thought the entertainment couldn't be better, a youngish guy rolled up behind us with what looked like a Picasso sculpture of a gleaming refrigerator. A double-take revealed it to be the gigantic roller case for a bass fiddle. The thing was taller than any man in line. Between such exotic cargo, I felt pretty boring clutching a basic black bag containing a run-o'-the-mill umbrella stroller.
Even less cool was the middle-aged woman with the smart haircut who couldn't wait to fire the following salvo at the bass player: "Makes you wish you picked up the piccolo, doesn't it?"
As she proudly rounded the corner at speed-walker pace, the bass player sighed, "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
My dreadnought is perfectly puny next to the massive bass viol, but I still won't be hauling it through airports anytime soon. Of course, the week's hiatus didn't do much for my playing, although I'm happy to say that my hard-won callouses are still functional.
What with weather changes and neglect, my strings are sadly out of tune indeed, and I am out of practice. You are technically supposed to detune your guitar when you take a long break like that so that the tightened strings don't put too much tension on the neck and wreck everything, but I failed to do this what with diapers to count and tiny jeans to fold. It happens. I hope there are no dire consequences. But no matter how bad my guitar playing gets, dear lady with the smart haircut, I'm still not picking up the piccolo. So there!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
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