Confessions of a Stupid Guitarist Part 2
I wrote the original "Confessions of a Stupid Guitarist" in the summer of 1996 while I was doing a gig in Guam over a summer with a top 40 band. I had a lot of time to practice and I also had a lot of time to think; I decided I wanted to take a lesson with Mick Goodrick and to ask him all of the questions that had been floating around in my head for a long time concerning my frustrations with finding my own musical voice, getting over stage fright, and other issues. So I just wrote everything down as it occured to me, and when I'd finished I realized the process of writing out all that stuff had been pretty cathartic. Later, when I finally did get to meet with Mick, I simply read him the essay rather than trying to remember all the things I'd wanted to talk to him about. As I mentioned earlier, he suggested I publish the essay, and in the years since I've had it up on my website I've gotten numerous emails from guitarists and other musicans who have expressed gratitude to me for putting the essay up, and many people have said that reading the essay has helped them.
For some time I've thought it's probably time to put up a "Confessions Part 2" that discusses my more recent thoughts on the subject. As of this writing (spring of 2005), I feel like I'm a long way from that guy in my distant memory who sat on the beach in Guam writing about his seemingly insurmountable frustrations with music and a music career, newly entering his third decade and beginning to wonder if "the parade had passed him by" already, before he'd yet had a chance to join it. In one sense, I was a different person then, and yet, I'm still the same guy I was at 30, the same frightened, wonder filled kid I was at 18, the same depressed, angst ridden adolescent I was at 13, and the same smart aleck kid who thought he knew everything at 5. I read recently that Albert Einstein once said "this separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion, if a stubborn one." One of the things I seem to realize as I get older (and more illusory time passes by) is that everything is interrelated; people, music, the arts, the universe, and yes, time. I am a part of the universe, and that universe includes all the people I have been at earlier ages, and all the people I will ever be. Somewhere, somehow, my intuition tells me that it all exists together. The point I'm trying to make is that I am still the guy who had all those hang ups, questions and frustrations in the "Confessions" essay. But this version of that guy seems to have figured a few things out; I'm a little farther down the same road. Here are some of the things I've discovered along the way since then.
Technique / Meditation / Ground Zero Revelation
Sound / Dealing with Getting Nervous / Introduction