Working on the Meet the Pup animation brought music back into my mind. Assembling the animation meant working with “Lava Tube" to create a snippet which goes with the theme. And, like a proud parent, I really love that song!
Plus, each day the equipment and guitar case stacked behind the couch at the Doghouse seemed to say, “We need you. Why are you neglecting us? Did we do something wrong?”
The school project was done. Three weeks had passed since the Sunday Surf Party and CD Release. Wallowing works for only so long.
And the inner voice joined the chorus of the equipment and guitar case with a strident message, “Get off your fat butt and get back to rock ‘n roll!” I obeyed and scheduled a "jam session" with Don and Glenn.
During our early evening drive to Cool, Glenn observed that we needed to enjoy the green in the foothills now. Soon they would be brown and, given the lack of rain, tender dry.
After the unseasonably warm day, Don had the overhead door open to cool the garage down. Is that ironic to have to cool a place in a place called Cool? I pulled the Ocean Turquoise Jazzmaster out of its case for the first time since the Capitol Bowl. It was still in tune but the neck was a sticky with sweat from that Sunday. A wipe down with a piece of old t-shirt took care of that.
Somebody said, “Let’s see what we can play as a trio.” I started into “Mr. Moto.” Not playing for a few weeks showed. Each of us forgot parts, and we were far from tight. In an effort to right the ship, Don said, “Let’s go to our standby.” We played “Penetration” like we had not skipped any time. Don worked in some bass fills. “We can make that work.”
We were working together and testing songs as a trio. The unspoken theme was that Paul would be in Ferndale soon, on to new adventures, and building a following there -- five hours away.
We were having such fun that I suggested we try to add “California Sun.” I outlined a concept which had been floating around in my brain for some time -- the Rivieras meet Handsome Dick Manitoba and the Dictators. We worked on the outline. Both Don and Glenn had ideas. In the end, we came up with arrangement which we stumbled through. At times it was cooking. Other times . . . the newness and evolving nature of the concept showed.
I was paying the price for the few weeks hiatus. Callouses coming off. They were catching on the strings and the frets. My fingers were beginning to hurt, but I realized this was a good -- and much needed -- pain.
“Got to stop. My fingers can’t take it any longer.”
After unplugging and putting equipment away, we sat and gabbed. Don and Glenn each had a beer while I finished off my third cup of coffee. We talked of Sierra Surf Music Camp.
“Paul will be by next Friday. I’ll talk to him about possibly doing something at Camp.” Don then brought reality -- the reality that had guided our work as a trio -- to bear, “Will that be your last lesson?” Being the eternal optimist, I replied, “Maybe we can do something by Skype.”
Irrespective of the now-spoken reality, the consensus was, “This is just what we needed.” Fun. Camaraderie. Working as a group. I felt rejuvenated, enthused, and ready to play again. The passion is back!
Plus, each day the equipment and guitar case stacked behind the couch at the Doghouse seemed to say, “We need you. Why are you neglecting us? Did we do something wrong?”The school project was done. Three weeks had passed since the Sunday Surf Party and CD Release. Wallowing works for only so long.
And the inner voice joined the chorus of the equipment and guitar case with a strident message, “Get off your fat butt and get back to rock ‘n roll!” I obeyed and scheduled a "jam session" with Don and Glenn.
During our early evening drive to Cool, Glenn observed that we needed to enjoy the green in the foothills now. Soon they would be brown and, given the lack of rain, tender dry.
After the unseasonably warm day, Don had the overhead door open to cool the garage down. Is that ironic to have to cool a place in a place called Cool? I pulled the Ocean Turquoise Jazzmaster out of its case for the first time since the Capitol Bowl. It was still in tune but the neck was a sticky with sweat from that Sunday. A wipe down with a piece of old t-shirt took care of that.
Somebody said, “Let’s see what we can play as a trio.” I started into “Mr. Moto.” Not playing for a few weeks showed. Each of us forgot parts, and we were far from tight. In an effort to right the ship, Don said, “Let’s go to our standby.” We played “Penetration” like we had not skipped any time. Don worked in some bass fills. “We can make that work.”
We were working together and testing songs as a trio. The unspoken theme was that Paul would be in Ferndale soon, on to new adventures, and building a following there -- five hours away.
We were having such fun that I suggested we try to add “California Sun.” I outlined a concept which had been floating around in my brain for some time -- the Rivieras meet Handsome Dick Manitoba and the Dictators. We worked on the outline. Both Don and Glenn had ideas. In the end, we came up with arrangement which we stumbled through. At times it was cooking. Other times . . . the newness and evolving nature of the concept showed.
I was paying the price for the few weeks hiatus. Callouses coming off. They were catching on the strings and the frets. My fingers were beginning to hurt, but I realized this was a good -- and much needed -- pain.
“Got to stop. My fingers can’t take it any longer.”
After unplugging and putting equipment away, we sat and gabbed. Don and Glenn each had a beer while I finished off my third cup of coffee. We talked of Sierra Surf Music Camp.
“Paul will be by next Friday. I’ll talk to him about possibly doing something at Camp.” Don then brought reality -- the reality that had guided our work as a trio -- to bear, “Will that be your last lesson?” Being the eternal optimist, I replied, “Maybe we can do something by Skype.”
Irrespective of the now-spoken reality, the consensus was, “This is just what we needed.” Fun. Camaraderie. Working as a group. I felt rejuvenated, enthused, and ready to play again. The passion is back!