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Another Old Friend
Jan. 30th, 2007 12:36 pmThat's my guitar. I haven't played much since I've been in university, and made a bunch of friends, but playing with funkyturtle has made me miss it terribly.
I remember when I first learned, I wanted to learn to play like lyona boyd. My mom got me a teacher, mrs. mead, who was self taught, and she taught me chords first. But I told her I wasnted to learn to read music, so she gave me the "easy guitar" books to work out of. Which was, like, elvis and beatles songs dumbed down so they sucked, and I was like, this wasn't what I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn pretty songs, classical music. Things I could play and people would like to listen to, not dumbed down versions of songs that could never sound as good as the originals. She eventually gave me the RCM grade one book, but either she didn't want to teach me notes for some reason, or didn't think I could learn them, or didn't know them well enough herself to teach them.
My neighbor happened to be an amazing classical guitarist. I asked him if he would be my teacher, but he said he doesn't teach, but he told me to get "solo guitar" by fredrick m. noad, and if I had that, I wouldn't need a teacher.
So I got that, and that book really was all I needed. It showed me proper right hand technique that my teacher had never taught me, and after my teacher praised my right hand technique, and I knew she'd never taught it to me, I realized I didn't need her. So about about six months later, I got tired of the teacher, because she was way behind where I was, and essentially a waste of money at that point.
My mom figured I'd stop playing, but no, I didn't. I continued to improve, and performed at my uncle's wedding. Ave Maria. Which was interesting, because it was a piece I'd never heard before, and learning it, without knowing what it should sound like, was a little harder. But I had both the tab and the notation, so I was ok... except for the typos in the tab, which, I checked the notation and fixed. I'd play for my neighbor, and he'd give me any pointers I needed. One spot in a song I couldn't for the life of me figure out, but he pointed out that the lower note was to be played on the higher string, left open, and the higher note on the lower string, since the other notes were played so high up on the neck, you couldn't reach and ran out of fingers otherwise. That one broke my brain, for the life of me I couldn't figure it out.
I stopped playing in australia. Mainly because of the lack of privacy, and john criticizing me every time I picked up the guitar. And he kept saying he used to play the guitar, and he'd been better at it than me. Which I don't believe at all, because I know damn well it would take a lot of work to get as good as I was at the time. And I couldn't see anyone who'd worked that hard ever giving it up completely. I never did; not completely. I kept my guitar and all my books. And kept my guitar oiled and strings repaired, and ready to pick up at any time. That's why I don't believe him.
Anyway, I need to repair another string again. They're getting old. So I'm off to work, and will pick up a D string on the way.
I remember when I first learned, I wanted to learn to play like lyona boyd. My mom got me a teacher, mrs. mead, who was self taught, and she taught me chords first. But I told her I wasnted to learn to read music, so she gave me the "easy guitar" books to work out of. Which was, like, elvis and beatles songs dumbed down so they sucked, and I was like, this wasn't what I wanted to learn. I wanted to learn pretty songs, classical music. Things I could play and people would like to listen to, not dumbed down versions of songs that could never sound as good as the originals. She eventually gave me the RCM grade one book, but either she didn't want to teach me notes for some reason, or didn't think I could learn them, or didn't know them well enough herself to teach them.
My neighbor happened to be an amazing classical guitarist. I asked him if he would be my teacher, but he said he doesn't teach, but he told me to get "solo guitar" by fredrick m. noad, and if I had that, I wouldn't need a teacher.
So I got that, and that book really was all I needed. It showed me proper right hand technique that my teacher had never taught me, and after my teacher praised my right hand technique, and I knew she'd never taught it to me, I realized I didn't need her. So about about six months later, I got tired of the teacher, because she was way behind where I was, and essentially a waste of money at that point.
My mom figured I'd stop playing, but no, I didn't. I continued to improve, and performed at my uncle's wedding. Ave Maria. Which was interesting, because it was a piece I'd never heard before, and learning it, without knowing what it should sound like, was a little harder. But I had both the tab and the notation, so I was ok... except for the typos in the tab, which, I checked the notation and fixed. I'd play for my neighbor, and he'd give me any pointers I needed. One spot in a song I couldn't for the life of me figure out, but he pointed out that the lower note was to be played on the higher string, left open, and the higher note on the lower string, since the other notes were played so high up on the neck, you couldn't reach and ran out of fingers otherwise. That one broke my brain, for the life of me I couldn't figure it out.
I stopped playing in australia. Mainly because of the lack of privacy, and john criticizing me every time I picked up the guitar. And he kept saying he used to play the guitar, and he'd been better at it than me. Which I don't believe at all, because I know damn well it would take a lot of work to get as good as I was at the time. And I couldn't see anyone who'd worked that hard ever giving it up completely. I never did; not completely. I kept my guitar and all my books. And kept my guitar oiled and strings repaired, and ready to pick up at any time. That's why I don't believe him.
Anyway, I need to repair another string again. They're getting old. So I'm off to work, and will pick up a D string on the way.
