Just like Salieri and Nacho

     Sometimes I know just how they feel.
     Antonio Salieri as portrayed by F. Murray Abraham in Amadeus, one of my favorite movies of all time: Salieri, the villainous and vain court composer whose jealousy of the brilliant Mozart leads him to plot downfall and ruin.
     And Nacho, the priest turned luchador (masked wrestler) of Jack Black's farcical Nacho Libre, who is lured by the fame and glory of wrestling into moonlighting as a particularly bumbling fighter to earn money to purchase better food for the orphanage.
     Because they are each drawn to a heart's desire, and then cursed by inadequacy and mediocrity. In a bitter monologue, Salieri scorns God for his fate: " All I wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing... and then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If He didn't want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire? Like a lust in my body! And then deny me the talent?" His jealousy of Mozart's ecstatic talent and disdain for Mozart's immaturity and vulgarity lead to ruin and death, and result in Salieri's guilt and sorrow at being forgotten by the world.
     As for Nacho, at one point the wrestling friar, frustrated at yet another epic drubbing, cries out " Precious Father, why have you given me this desire to wrestle and then made me such a stinky warrior?"
    Dramatic tragedy or sarcastic comedy, each of these strikes a resonant chord in me. I know just how each one of these fictional characters feel.
     Let me tell you about me and my guitar.

     I have played guitar about thirty years now. Terribly.
     But enthusiastically.
     I can make a few chords-actually, quite a few of them. Anything with a # or sus4 or such always intimidated me, so I steered clear of those. If the song is primarily C's and G's and D's and E's and A's, I probably have made a stab at it.
    F chords-not so much. Those hurt, and it's hard to get a good tone out of them.

     Until last spring, I would play a little every couple of years or so, dust off my guitar, replace the strings  and tune it up,open my old Mel Bay or Guitar for Dummies books for a couple of weeks, do the exercises, maybe learn to play the melody or chords to some old song about telling Aunt Rhody that her goose is dead. Never could figure out why someone would write a song like that... After a couple of weeks of making no real headway on playing a real song from start to finish rather than five notes from Jingle Bells, I would give up until a new President was sworn in.
     Last spring, I decided to put my money where my mouth is and actually take lessons. I enrolled in weekly lessons at the local guitar shop. My teacher is a mid-20s metalhead with brilliant technique and feel and who possesses a talent for teaching. Since I've been adding glitches and bad habits into my playing since before he was born, he works on my rhythm and timing, my technique, my ear. He picks out songs and solos to practice based upon containing elements necessary to master playing. For instance, right now I am working on the solo to Frijid Pink's 1970's version of House of the Rising Sun because it is slow enough for a beginner and because it features vibrato, bends, slides, hammer-ons, and pull-offs.
     I've been reinforced in the fact that I am NOT a natural musician. I am a terrible musician, I can play the same 4 or 5 notes twenty times and still not get them right. Or I can play it right 10 times in a row then forget how I've been playing it on the 11th time. My timing is always suspect, even with a metronome going, and tapping a foot, playing, and breathing at the same time gives me fits.
 
     So I ask, why do I have this desire to play guitar when I demonstrably have so little facility? Why have this burning desire then be such a stinky guitar player?

      According to my teacher, the answer is practice and lots of it. If 20 times on a riff doesn't cut it, try 100 and see what happens.
      Which all comes down to how bad do I want it? How much time am I willing to invest to be good, or at least better than crappy? I am encouraged by Bookends.
      When I was about 16 or so, I learned to play Bookends by Simon and Garfunkel. I learned to play it by sitting for hours practicing. Still to this day I can pick up a guitar and play it on the first try, without even thinking about it and without looking at the strings or my fingers. So it obviously can be done.

     I think my teacher is right. It's all about practice and about not giving up, about doing it 100 times as best you can so that on the 101st all of a sudden it comes together. Every now and then I close my eyes and just listen to the music in my head while I play and suddenly what I hear and what is actually coming out of the guitar are the same. That is when the pieces of the puzzle come together and I realize with a rush WHY I am still trying.
    Maybe a lot of things in life are about practicing, both the simple and the sublime. Making bread. Marriage. Fatherhood. Folding fitted sheets. Christianity. Driving. Blogging.
     But for today, I'm just thinking about spending another 1/2 hour running through some scales on the guitar. Teaching my fingers to move without having to think about it. So instead I can pay attention to this music I hear in my head.