Tonight I’m going to see They Might Be Giants. And here the nostalgia unravels…
My first concert, They Might Be Giants, a junior in high school, my friend, Jim Stamps, had an extra ticket and invited me to go. There’s nothing cooler to a high schooler than going to a concert. The loud music, the bright lights, people weaving to the music—it changed me.
Music was always part of my life. I played trumpet in middle and high school, but after going to this concert, I was obsessed with live music. Afterwards, I spent nearly every weekend going to concerts in Pittsburgh.
Later, Jim Stamps taught me guitar. I played trumpet and piano, but neither gave me the pleasure that guitar did. The songs on the radio were guitar based, and being able to learn my favorite songs brought me closer to my idols.
In college, I was a few classes away from minoring in music. I took voice lessons and sang tenor in the San Diego State choir. I learned theory. I learned what it took to be a musician. I listened to professors talk on and on, stories about playing with artists like Count Basie, Mile Davis, and John McLaughlin.
I played guitar every day, often for hours. I learned lead guitar by practicing diatonic and pentatonic scales over and over. I’d turn on random songs, learn the key, and pretend I was lead guitar for their band. I jammed with classmates and coworkers between classes, in downgraded bedrooms, equipped with only drum kits and microphones. We’d cover Rage Against the Machine or Black Sabbath. Sometimes we’d just jam. Someone would play rhythm, I would play lead, and we would just go back and forth for hours.
It took me forever to learn how to play and sing at the same time. I don’t have great rhythm. I had to play songs super slow until I was able to sing with them. I chose simple songs like Bush’s Glycerine or the Beatles “Yesterday.” Once I learned how to cover these, I started writing my own.
After college, I got married. I studied creative writing in grad school. Instead of playing guitar, I wrote stories and drafted a novel. I was reading—EVERYTHING—and learning all I could about the craft.
And then, when I got divorced, I went through a bad depression. Devastated, I wasn’t creative during this time.
But slowly, as time passed, I started jamming on guitar. And eventually, I was jamming every day. And once the guitar laid the roots, I was able to get out of my funk.
I started a band, we fell apart, but we had some memories…
Most importantly, I learned something about myself. Whenever I’m going through a tough time, it’s music that gets me back. It’s music that makes me happy. It’s music that starts my creative process.
I play guitar every day. I’m always thinking about songs and writing down lyrics.
Honestly, I’m not the best guitar player, but I’m always learning. The frets on a guitar neck are an enigma filled with endless possibilities. I don’t think anyone completely learns guitar. Once you think you have it down, along comes a jazz musician or a flamenco guitarist who blows your mind. There’s too much to learn.
You don’t master a guitar—it masters you.
And for me this whole guitar journey began my junior year with my friend Jim Stamps saying, “Hey, man. I have an extra ticket to They Might be Giants. You want to go?”