Rock and Roll

I used to play guitar in a rock band.  I still do, but I used to too (with apologies to Mitch Hedberg).  I should qualify that statement by stating that we get onstage every 5 - 7 years now, unlike the early 90's when it was a quite a bit more often than that.  We also miss a few more notes and breaks than we used to - probably by an order of magnitude.

A few months ago, word spread that our singer was about to turn 40, which was a great surprise to us because we weren't aware that we'd even had a singer.  Seriously, hitting 40 is an epic milestone in life, particularly if you've spent most of that life partying like a rock star.  As such, it seemed appropriate that we gather for the occasion and attempt once again to wreak musical mayhem.  I can assure you that such mayhem was certainly wrought.

Since it had been close to six months since I'd even touched one of my guitars, it seemed like a good idea to pick it up and knock a little rust off the old digits.  Several days later, there was enough rust knocked off to render a WD-40 salesman apoplectic.  My wrists hurt, my fingertips were raw, and it was very clear that I was in for a bit more work if I didn't want to completely embarrass myself.  Mild embarrassment, of course, is perfectly acceptable - particularly when guzzling bucketloads of beer at a 40th birthday party.

Still, I methodically worked my way through the setlist and a number of physical drills.  The endless scales and picking exercises that I could do for 8 hours a day in my teens had returned to get everything in proper working order again.  I don't have the patience or enthusiasm for them anymore, particularly once everything was getting back in sync.  But in the end, I got comfortable enough that I could execute the songs competently, and at least enjoy myself faking my way through the rest of it.

Even my fingertips eventually came around, with the help of Eric Clapton's purported rubbing alcohol trick.  Surprisingly, you soak your fingertips in it, rather than guzzling it.  And between my old favorite axe and my new favorite toy, the equipment was cause for far more joy than worry.

We finally played this last weekend, and it went every bit as good, if not a little better, than I expected.  When you only play once every half-decade, you have to expect some hiccups (and by "hiccups", I mean "making 4 attempts at starting a song until you get it right").  We all enjoyed ourselves, and that's ultimately what makes it worthwhile.  For my part, I don't know if I'll start playing a little more regularly or not.  If not, I hope rubbing alcohol doesn't get too expensive.