A Random Tidbit
I'm not sure what this is, but I found it amongst my random scribblings... I thought it was entertaining enough to post.
“Yeah, once I was a boogie singer,” sang my buddy Bill, who, while a singer is pretty definitely not boogie. “Playin’ in a rock and roll band...” I quit listening at that point, satisfied that Bill was indeed singing the right song, and concentrated on my bass for a bit. It’s one of my favorite songs to play, but it always takes me a few seconds past the intro to synchronize with the drummer enough to put my fingers on auto-pilot. I ignore the flashing lights for a moment and stare at my fingers, watching them skitter across the fretboard. “Yep,” my mind said to me, “you’re in the right key.” I listen for the kick drum to make sure I’m in the right groove, which is surprisingly hard to do on a small stage – with no room for monitors the drums had to compete acoustically with two guitar amps and my monster bass rig. After a few beats, though, my mind sorted through the mush of noise on stage and found the rhythmic thud of the kick drum. “Yep,” my mind told me. “You’re playing it right. Now quit staring at your fingers and dance around or something.”
So I danced around a bit. I never argue with myself in public. It’s unsettling for others.
“Yeah, once I was a boogie singer,” sang my buddy Bill, who, while a singer is pretty definitely not boogie. “Playin’ in a rock and roll band...” I quit listening at that point, satisfied that Bill was indeed singing the right song, and concentrated on my bass for a bit. It’s one of my favorite songs to play, but it always takes me a few seconds past the intro to synchronize with the drummer enough to put my fingers on auto-pilot. I ignore the flashing lights for a moment and stare at my fingers, watching them skitter across the fretboard. “Yep,” my mind said to me, “you’re in the right key.” I listen for the kick drum to make sure I’m in the right groove, which is surprisingly hard to do on a small stage – with no room for monitors the drums had to compete acoustically with two guitar amps and my monster bass rig. After a few beats, though, my mind sorted through the mush of noise on stage and found the rhythmic thud of the kick drum. “Yep,” my mind told me. “You’re playing it right. Now quit staring at your fingers and dance around or something.”
So I danced around a bit. I never argue with myself in public. It’s unsettling for others.
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