The Cone Issue #8 Winter 2016 | Page 12

At times during this twenty year lapse I would ponder on the empty shell of this former obsession, but would quickly shove it aside and move on to life’s more pressing concerns. A self-awakening was sparked one weekend morning about three years ago. It wasn’t like a Buddhist enlightening, rather it was the chance viewing of an ad for jazz guitar lessons at the music school where my daughter has ballet lessons. I’d never thought about jazz. After all, jazz was nothing more than the ambiance music in coffee shops. This was the music that bored me to tears in the back seat of my dad’s car as a teenager. This was music that, when played live in the right kind of bar, set the backdrop for higher causes like cocktails and cigars. But the thought of exploring a new world was gripping so I enrolled in the lessons, not really knowing what to expect. It took little time to realize the treasure trove that jazz music represents. It was a revolution that forced me to examine the way I had originally learned to play guitar in the first place. A lot of us rock and rollers learned the guitar in a desire to be like the guitar gods of the 1970s and 1980s that we admired (and still do). The key was always tricks and technique. If you wanted to be cool, which generally meant in the eyes of other guitarists and members of the opposite sex, then you had to have a bag full of tricks that included hyper active tapping with the right hand, screeching harmonics, horse whinnies and rapid fire run lines all the way down the fretboard like a Gatling gun. Perhaps it’s due to age, perhaps it is due to a sudden deep dive into jazz, but I realized that the way I used to play guitar was not making music, rather it was acrobats. It was memorizing patterns and chord shapes without ever giving a thought to why I played it the way I did, no matter how well I nailed it or how good I made it sound. It was waiting around for the point in the song where I could do a high wire trapeze act and then step back into the boring old chord progressions. In a way, my playing was like a guy who only waits to talk, and doesn’t listen to what anyone else has to say in the conversation. 12 THE CONE - ISSUE #8 - WINTER 2016