Six Strings of Regret

At the end of March I went to see the band Television perform at Irving Plaza in NYC. Having all but given up on live music, this was a rare occasion for me. A friend had an extra ticket and was looking for someone who liked Television enough to pay thirty-six bucks to see them. I was game.

I’m glad that I went. Television played a solid set, showcasing half of their groundbreaking album “Marquee Moon”, including my favorite song off of that record, “Venus.” As expected there was lots of inspired guitar work from Richard Lloyd and the band’s leader/mastermind Tom Verlaine. The interplay between the two of them is astounding, and they both clearly have a command of the instrument.

I was definitely entertained that night. I also came away learning a bit about myself, and let me tell you I’ve been a bit depressed ever since. I’ll admit that it hasn’t been the type of depression that keeps you in bed for days, or causes your co-workers to ask if you’re ok, but it has been difficult.

I started playing guitar when I was fifteen. I remember my fascination with the instrument and the sleepless nights leading up to the day I finally got my first guitar: an Ephiphone Stratocaster knock off. Of course when I got home I had no clue what to do with the thing.

So I posed.

I stood in front of the mirror, blasted the latest AC/DC record and pretended I was in the band. I tried my best to emulate Angus Young’s frantic stage moves, my fingers landing in arbitrary positions on the fret board. It was lots of fun, and I’m almost sad that that part of my guitar playing life ended so quickly.

I started taking lessons and soon found myself immersed in the instrument. Instead of blasting loud rock music and pretending to play, I was learning chords, scales and theory. I was becoming a “real” guitar player. I also found myself more interested in how a rock star played a certain lick than how they looked playing that lick.

Looking back now, I fear that this led to my social downfall as a player. I focused too much on technique and not enough on personal style and expression. I even practiced sitting down! What was I thinking?

At jam sessions with other musicians I had no songs in my repertoire. Sure, I could play a C Dorian scale in all five positions but what did that mean to a bunch of people that wanted to jam out to “War Pigs?”

While I was at home figuring out new voicings of the Major 7th chord, most of my guitar playing colleagues were focusing on their look and learning the latest Poison song to impress the ladies. What I failed to realize at the time was that I had an instrument at my disposal that is, historically, more effective at getting laid than a new puppy and I was wasting it.

And that is really the cause of my slight depression after the Television show. Watching the crowd watch Verlaine and Lloyd, I realized that a majority of the people didn’t care what the two of them were playing (well I’m sure they cared that it at least sounded good), but that they were fun to watch as they played it. Both delivered solos while making it look like in order to do so one needed to move their whole body, and by the looks on their faces, experience incredible pain and/or euphoria.

Now don’t take the previous paragraphs to mean that I am unhappy with the kind of guitar player I have become (one who figures out new voicings of the Major 7th chord and practices the C Dorian scale in all five positions). I enjoy the exploration and continual discovery that the instrument offers; If anything I’m regretful at missed opportunities. To put it bluntly, the most distressing thing I’ve realized is that something that normally makes most more hip or socially desirable somehow didn’t do the same for me.

But what am I wasting time writing this for? There may still be hope for me yet. I’m hitting the mall to pick up some fashionable clothes and a Beatles song book.

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