Guitars, Newcastle Upon Tyne and my Dad.
Sunday, 19 October 2003 23:41![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apollaA few things in my life.... *WARNING: Likely to be long and rambly. My head is hurting a little.*
My dad flew up from London to see me yesterday. He brought with him my favourite pint glass from which to sup Diet Coke, a book about the 100 Most Important/Greatest Irish or something like that, some post and....
Led Zeppelin Remasters box set. :D Featuring the unreleased tracks 'Travelling Riverside Blues', 'Hey Hey What Can I Do', 'White Summer/Black Mountain Side' and the 'previously unreleased in this form 'Moby Dick/Bonzo's Montreux'. He found it cheap in HMV or something. *does little dance* and has said he's going to look out for the Complete Studio Recordings which retails at like 90 quid and he swears he's seen cheap in Luton. *does mad dance*
Anyway, we went into Sunderland and got me some food shopping before then going into Newcastle. No offence to any Geordies, but I think I actually prefer Sunderland in a way. I mean, maybe it's that I don't know where anything is in Newcastle, but it was just... I dunno. Anyway, we ate at Frankie & Benny's and then trolled around for awhile until it was time for him to head back to the airport and me back to university.
Oh, and in Waterstone's he got me Michael Moore's book Stupid White Men which is actually a required text in a couple of my modules (how cool is that?) and... the Neal Preston book of Led Zeppelin photographs. WOO HOO! *does mad, insane dance, trips over guitar and collapses in heap*
Anyway, have done a glorious amount of nothing today, and thanks to having a fridge and en-suite bathroom, have not even had to leave my room at all. This is the kind of ultimate doing-nothing that I feel I have elevated into an art form.
I have though, been trying in vain to get my hands to find chord positions on my guitar with ease. I'm making a certain amount of progress with my left hand (am a classical guitarist, so I'm in uncharted territory for me) but my right hand is still shit. Any guitarists out there have any advice for what to do? I'm barely managing straightforward 4/4 basic strumming here and it sounds fucking awful. I've also found that a lot of music I want to play is best done on an electric guitar with 22 frets as opposed to my 12 (there's actually 17/18, but past twelve and you have to play on the body of the guitar and it's a bit tricky). So.... have decided to screw having any money and finally get meself a guitar. I would love a Jimmy Page-alike Les Paul or a Rickenbacker, or an EC Strat... but I have no money. Have been pointed towards a gold Squier Affinity strat by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gryffinseye which is in my price range. Will head hopefully to some music stores in Sunderland that I found online to see if they have the same one to hear the sound and if so, buy the gold version online perhaps. Me with a gold guitar just seems so much like destiny. :D
And when I'm a rich and famous rock and roll star, I might finally be able to afford a Les Paul. But I wouldn't count on it.
Things more or less mastered today:
Paint It, Black's intro and such.
20 Flight Rock by Eddie Cochran
A bunch of chords that I've probably now forgotten.
Several things have occured to me today:
I never stick with one song long enough to actually get good at it. I skip from this to that like a bloody willo' the wisp so probably never improve much.
I seem determined to pick the hardest bloody songs. I couldn't start out with something simple like American Pie (it's long but has simple chords). Noooo I had to pick stuff like Roisin Dubh (which is actually impossible on one guitar for large tracts of it) and of course Stairway to Heaven, which isn't that difficult but requires a certain amount of concentration that I don't have.
I can't read tablature very well. By this I mean that I read the tab, translate it into sheet music in my head, which I then translate into what I have to do on the guitar. This may be part of the problem. And I've not done real lessons since I was in 6th form, so my music theory is a little rusty. I forgot what a fucking coda sign looked like at one point. I mean, it's only been drilled into me since I was like, eight and starting violin lessons.
I have titchy fucking hands. I have long fingers but only relatively speaking. On me they look long and almost graceful... but they're still little hands and so don't stretch as far as they need to sometimes. BASTARDS.
All this leads me to one conclusion: I am my own worst enemy. I am trying to resolve this particular thorn in my side, but it's really a lot harder to sort a problem out when you are the problem in hand. Which is really just typical for me. Gah.
However, I have realised that I am nothing without music, and so it's really quite important that I do become an actual rock star.
Had a weird dream the other day. Ringo Starr and George Harrison were in it, but I can't quite recall exactly what was going on. I know why though- just before falling asleep I saw coverage from the Concert For George premiere in LA. Ringo was there (as was Paul McCartney, but the less of him at the moment, the better, I feel) and the first bit I saw was Ringo with his arm around Dhani Harrison, who really is the spit of his dad at the same age. Maybe that's why- although I'm sure in the dream George was his long-haired in-his-fifties self. I don't know!
Then last night I had yet another weird dream in which I was going to play football for England. Let's ignore the fact that I haven't played football since I was 16 for a second. Girls can't play for England! Girls can't play in the regular leagues! We have our own shitty league that nobody watches- why would they when there's the good stuff to watch? Only in America is chick football remotely popular. Now- I haven't played footie since I was 16 and we finally got to play in PE at school. I wasn't bad, you know. But that's because I was playing against other girls. I look like David Beckham when I play against girls who don't play football and don't even know the rules. I remember playing my brother and his mates and regularly being creamed. I'm not being at all anti-feminist here- some girls are as good as the boys. I'm not. So why was I in a dream where I was going to play for England? Has the football sitch here got so bad that they can't find anyone else? And while I'm on it- why was I with the England football team at church of all places? Why were Gerry Adams and David Trimble also there? Hell- when are we likely to see Gerry Adams and David Trimble in the same church together?
God I love this new set my dad got me. It's like Jimmy Page sat down in 1990 and thought 'what will Clare Worley like in thirteen years time?' I mean, I'm only halfway through the first disc and I'm on the floor here. There was me thinking 'ah, me Zep obsession is calming down' and it's NOT anymore! And on Disc Three there's Kashmir and Trampled Underfoot consecutively *dies* and then When The Levee Breaks, Achilles Last Stand and The Song Remains the same all in one go. *dies again* There's only one issue I have, and that's that Immigrant Song isn't the first thing on Disc Two- there's nothing like that song to open an album- listen to Zep III for the proof! Still, I'm sure Jimmy had his reasons as to the tracklisting and who am I to question The Wizard?
Mind you, any plans I had to tone down any Zep stuff has been thwarted- aside from aforementioned box set and the Neal Preston photo book, I got this month's Vanity Fair (Music Issue, woo hoo) and found... a long article about Led Zeppelin by Lisa Robinson. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say I was thrown right back to where I was before- listening to nothing but Zep, although I had a break for the Coasters and the Dubliners earlier.
Have also decided that, if I can work out how to do all the fancy layout stuff, I will buy myself a paid account. Watch this space, kiddies.
My dad flew up from London to see me yesterday. He brought with him my favourite pint glass from which to sup Diet Coke, a book about the 100 Most Important/Greatest Irish or something like that, some post and....
Led Zeppelin Remasters box set. :D Featuring the unreleased tracks 'Travelling Riverside Blues', 'Hey Hey What Can I Do', 'White Summer/Black Mountain Side' and the 'previously unreleased in this form 'Moby Dick/Bonzo's Montreux'. He found it cheap in HMV or something. *does little dance* and has said he's going to look out for the Complete Studio Recordings which retails at like 90 quid and he swears he's seen cheap in Luton. *does mad dance*
Anyway, we went into Sunderland and got me some food shopping before then going into Newcastle. No offence to any Geordies, but I think I actually prefer Sunderland in a way. I mean, maybe it's that I don't know where anything is in Newcastle, but it was just... I dunno. Anyway, we ate at Frankie & Benny's and then trolled around for awhile until it was time for him to head back to the airport and me back to university.
Oh, and in Waterstone's he got me Michael Moore's book Stupid White Men which is actually a required text in a couple of my modules (how cool is that?) and... the Neal Preston book of Led Zeppelin photographs. WOO HOO! *does mad, insane dance, trips over guitar and collapses in heap*
Anyway, have done a glorious amount of nothing today, and thanks to having a fridge and en-suite bathroom, have not even had to leave my room at all. This is the kind of ultimate doing-nothing that I feel I have elevated into an art form.
I have though, been trying in vain to get my hands to find chord positions on my guitar with ease. I'm making a certain amount of progress with my left hand (am a classical guitarist, so I'm in uncharted territory for me) but my right hand is still shit. Any guitarists out there have any advice for what to do? I'm barely managing straightforward 4/4 basic strumming here and it sounds fucking awful. I've also found that a lot of music I want to play is best done on an electric guitar with 22 frets as opposed to my 12 (there's actually 17/18, but past twelve and you have to play on the body of the guitar and it's a bit tricky). So.... have decided to screw having any money and finally get meself a guitar. I would love a Jimmy Page-alike Les Paul or a Rickenbacker, or an EC Strat... but I have no money. Have been pointed towards a gold Squier Affinity strat by
gryffinseye which is in my price range. Will head hopefully to some music stores in Sunderland that I found online to see if they have the same one to hear the sound and if so, buy the gold version online perhaps. Me with a gold guitar just seems so much like destiny. :DAnd when I'm a rich and famous rock and roll star, I might finally be able to afford a Les Paul. But I wouldn't count on it.
Things more or less mastered today:
Paint It, Black's intro and such.
20 Flight Rock by Eddie Cochran
A bunch of chords that I've probably now forgotten.
Several things have occured to me today:
I never stick with one song long enough to actually get good at it. I skip from this to that like a bloody willo' the wisp so probably never improve much.
I seem determined to pick the hardest bloody songs. I couldn't start out with something simple like American Pie (it's long but has simple chords). Noooo I had to pick stuff like Roisin Dubh (which is actually impossible on one guitar for large tracts of it) and of course Stairway to Heaven, which isn't that difficult but requires a certain amount of concentration that I don't have.
I can't read tablature very well. By this I mean that I read the tab, translate it into sheet music in my head, which I then translate into what I have to do on the guitar. This may be part of the problem. And I've not done real lessons since I was in 6th form, so my music theory is a little rusty. I forgot what a fucking coda sign looked like at one point. I mean, it's only been drilled into me since I was like, eight and starting violin lessons.
I have titchy fucking hands. I have long fingers but only relatively speaking. On me they look long and almost graceful... but they're still little hands and so don't stretch as far as they need to sometimes. BASTARDS.
All this leads me to one conclusion: I am my own worst enemy. I am trying to resolve this particular thorn in my side, but it's really a lot harder to sort a problem out when you are the problem in hand. Which is really just typical for me. Gah.
However, I have realised that I am nothing without music, and so it's really quite important that I do become an actual rock star.
Had a weird dream the other day. Ringo Starr and George Harrison were in it, but I can't quite recall exactly what was going on. I know why though- just before falling asleep I saw coverage from the Concert For George premiere in LA. Ringo was there (as was Paul McCartney, but the less of him at the moment, the better, I feel) and the first bit I saw was Ringo with his arm around Dhani Harrison, who really is the spit of his dad at the same age. Maybe that's why- although I'm sure in the dream George was his long-haired in-his-fifties self. I don't know!
Then last night I had yet another weird dream in which I was going to play football for England. Let's ignore the fact that I haven't played football since I was 16 for a second. Girls can't play for England! Girls can't play in the regular leagues! We have our own shitty league that nobody watches- why would they when there's the good stuff to watch? Only in America is chick football remotely popular. Now- I haven't played footie since I was 16 and we finally got to play in PE at school. I wasn't bad, you know. But that's because I was playing against other girls. I look like David Beckham when I play against girls who don't play football and don't even know the rules. I remember playing my brother and his mates and regularly being creamed. I'm not being at all anti-feminist here- some girls are as good as the boys. I'm not. So why was I in a dream where I was going to play for England? Has the football sitch here got so bad that they can't find anyone else? And while I'm on it- why was I with the England football team at church of all places? Why were Gerry Adams and David Trimble also there? Hell- when are we likely to see Gerry Adams and David Trimble in the same church together?
God I love this new set my dad got me. It's like Jimmy Page sat down in 1990 and thought 'what will Clare Worley like in thirteen years time?' I mean, I'm only halfway through the first disc and I'm on the floor here. There was me thinking 'ah, me Zep obsession is calming down' and it's NOT anymore! And on Disc Three there's Kashmir and Trampled Underfoot consecutively *dies* and then When The Levee Breaks, Achilles Last Stand and The Song Remains the same all in one go. *dies again* There's only one issue I have, and that's that Immigrant Song isn't the first thing on Disc Two- there's nothing like that song to open an album- listen to Zep III for the proof! Still, I'm sure Jimmy had his reasons as to the tracklisting and who am I to question The Wizard?
Mind you, any plans I had to tone down any Zep stuff has been thwarted- aside from aforementioned box set and the Neal Preston photo book, I got this month's Vanity Fair (Music Issue, woo hoo) and found... a long article about Led Zeppelin by Lisa Robinson. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say I was thrown right back to where I was before- listening to nothing but Zep, although I had a break for the Coasters and the Dubliners earlier.
Have also decided that, if I can work out how to do all the fancy layout stuff, I will buy myself a paid account. Watch this space, kiddies.
