Diary of A Bad Guitar Player: Alternate Universes


I must confess, I am scared of alternate tunings. I am not sure when in my near-30 years of being bad at playing guitar that the fear set in, but it is there now and it is quite real. I think it took root early on. After learning the basic chords and beginning to strum some songs, play some riffs and get my #guitarface on, it probably occurred to me that by changing the tuning of the guitar I would cast myself out in to a world of unknown patterns, of misplaced notes and general bewilderment. Once I took the time to get most of my scale patterns down, I was all the way out on alternate tunings. I was not about to let a few twists on a half-dozen pegs turn me into Donnie from the Big Lebowski- out of my element, like a child who walks into the middle of a movie…

So, no alternate tunings for me. Not for the many, many fingerstyle blues songs that I might learn in open G or open D. Not to add one of my favorite Dylan tunes- Buckets of Rain (played in open E)- to the setlist. Not to get the rhythm guitar sound that drives so many amazing Joni Mitchell tunes.

I would guess this not uncommon. It is intimidating to look at the six strings and twenty or more frets that make up a guitar. You naturally wonder how the hell anyone knows which note is which in that perplexing arrangement of steel and wood. Once you get a little bit of handle on it, you sure as hell don’t want to go back to that place where you are entirely unsure what the note on the next string is.

I realize now though, that this a mistake and it is exactly the kind of mistake that I tend to make. In fact, this the kind of mistake that is at the heart of my struggle to play music.

I am not comfortable not knowing things. I like to have some kind of understanding of a subject, a basic working knowledge I can build on. This is helpful in many areas of life, of course. It creates an impulse to research things, to commit things to memory, to read and learn and engage with a wide range of topics and ideas. Even in studying music, this is generally a good thing. I know far more about music theory than I need to as a result and that knowledge is often useful. The problem is that music- playing music specifically- is largely about experience and not information. That is why is requires practice and not study. By avoiding the difficult and uncertain terrain posed by alternate tunings, I avoided a way of playing that would depend on my ear and not my hands. It chose the security of knowledge over lessons only experience can teach.

My recent playing, most of which has been following Lee Anderson’s Play Guitar Academy, has pushed me to use my ear more. Playing leads of backing tracks, I am trying to find my way more by ear now than ever before. And I am happy to say it is working. I recognize when I hit chord tones, even if I don’t know exactly where I am in the progression. I also get lost in the progression much less often because I hear the changes better.

 It is encouraging, but it has also shown me my limitations. I still can’t reliably transcribe anything. I still feel lost trying to play over chords if I don’t know the key or the changes. And I am still baffled by alternate tunings. Now, however, I see that limitation as just another excuse. I don’t have a great ear- that is true. I have tried to hide behind knowing songs and theory and other tricks to dodge the discomfort of getting into a place where I don’t know what I should play. I can see now I need that discomfort. I need to try to play in different tunings. I need to get lost and not know the chords and find my way by ear alone. I am excited to try.

Poem of the Day 6/18/20- Forever Searching for John Hurt


A ’28 pressing from Okeh records,

Sent them on their way,

Looking for Old John Hurt,

Forgotten in his day.

Nothing to much to tell them

Where the bluesman might be

But the song Avalon Blues.

Maybe Georgia, or Mississippi?

Chasing down fingers

Fast as lightning,

A worn-out angel’s voice

With which to sing.

Driving Southern highways,

New York to the Gulf Coast,

To Honky Tonks and Cotton Fields

Searchin’ for a ghost.

A gentle voice on record,

Recorded years ago,

Pressed and sold and forgotten

Gone home and growing old.

Do any highways yet remain,

Dusty, worn and weathered,

Battered and blood-stained,

That lead to the hills that overlook

The birthplace of the blues,

To a hometown (always on my mind)

To the voice of an old and weary angel,

And the pretty girls who want his time?

One day, I’ll get in my car and drive

Down every forgotten back road I can find

And forever search for Old John Hurt

It’s Nobody’s Dirty Business but mine.

Poem of the Day 4/30/30


I wake up to the sound

Of the wind howling

And the drumming of the rain

And I think of Elmore James playing

“The Sky is Crying”

A warm cup of coffee in my hand,

I find the song and sit,

Listening to the guitar and the rain and the wind.

These are the slow blues days,

These are the Murakami days,

These are the warm coffee, cold-wind days.

Play me the crying skies, play me the wind beginning to howl,

Play me a sad song for the dreadful wind and rain

And I will listen.