I’m beginning to get the impression that somebody ‘Up There’ doesn’t want me writing music this evening.
I sat down about an hour ago to practice a li’l, and work on some new material ready for the planned recordings (which will be done as and when my producer finally swallows his stupid pride, and gives me his computer to fix!). So there I am, songbooks and scraps of paper spread before me, my big ol’ guitar on my knee, ready to get all creative, prepared for some creative juices to commence flowing.
I start strumming, playing a few songs I know as a warm up. Bowie’s Five Years is ok, as is MCR’s Helena. I then decide to play some tracks I haven’t played in a long time. I look up the chords to What a Waster, Can’t Stand Me Now, and Don’t Look Back In To The Sun by The Libertines. The latter sounded good as ever, and I discovered that I actually remembered how to play it. But the other two sounded dreadful! I couldn’t believe that the atrocious music being made was played by me! I sounded like some two-month novice trying to play his favourite songs. It was embarrassing, and I’m alone in my room! So I looked to my own music for comfort, thinking that ok, I’m just a bit rusty on those…
After having some real trouble with my capo, I discover that the grip on the back of it has practically slipped off (I really miss my uber-great Kaiser capo tonight – come home baby, all is forgiven!), and that either the strings currently on my favoured guitar are either too heavy gauge, or there’s a warping issue with the neck, because after half an hour, my finger feel like they should be bleeding, because the action is so high (non musos: the strings were too far away from the neck, meaning it was a herculean effort
to depress them).
Still, pushing on through the pain, I still manage to work out verse and pre-chords chord structure for a new song that has lain dormant since January. After achieving this little triumph, I decide I’ll switch over to my Epiphone Supernova , since it’s much more comfortable to play. So I plug in my baby Marshall practice amp, tune up, and away I go. Well, after spending ten minutes looking for my plectrum tin, which I didn’t find. Got a sneaking suspicion I left it at the gig the other week. I get half way through the second run of the song, and PING my fecking top E string snaps!
I look over at my much abused Les Paul, which has been the donor for strings recently, and it looks back at me forlornly with only three strings remaining – none of which will do as a top E replacement. And so I decide tonight is not a night for me to make music, and retreat to the solace of complaining about it on the internet. Grrr. And I’m really hyped for making music at the moment, since a friend of mine has sent me a huuuuge list of venues from all over the country who are really keen to book upcoming artists, so I want to get writing new songs to play at these venues, and put on a demo to get gigs there… Damn damn DAMN!
Every bloody time something good/useful like that list turns up, it seems that something happens to counteract it. Feth it, I’m gonna continue writing tonight, even if it fething well kills me!
TTFN
