Careful With That Axe, Eugene

Yesterday was the first time since I moved into the new house (and that was 3 weeks ago) that I picked up my guitar again and played. It felt good, but quickly turned sour when I realised how much I’d forgotten. It’s a feeling I’m used to by now because I’ve done this so often. I keep telling myself to practise everyday, but I fail to follow through.

It’s not easy learning an instrument. Sure, it’s a lot of fun and its relaxing after a while, but like most things in life, it involves hard work, time and discipline. Many times, people have heard me play (usually at some house party where everyone’s pissed as a pirate’s parrot) and then they say, “I’ve always wanted to learn the guitar. You play really well. Can you teach me?” Praise, that’s all I need. I know I’m far from being a great guitarist, but I know enough to teach people a few chords, and send them off on their path of guitar education. So I always say, “Sure, I’ll be glad to teach you.” In most cases, these people give up a few days later. Like I said, it’s hard. More so at the start. Monotonous finger exercises, the pain in your fingertips, and buckets of frustration. I don’t blame them for giving up. I almost gave up.

But then there are a few who persist. And that’s when the fun part begins. And one of these guys is the reason for this post. He's acknowledged me in his blog. Reading that post got me thinking about how I started out, and it brought back a lot of memories.

Memories of school. 11th grade, when I first started playing. My first guitar, an old beat-up acoustic rescued from someone’s loft. I thought I’d keep it forever. Me, Faiz and Kartik, strumming away in my terrace. Faiz being the electric whiz-kid and converting the acoustics to electrics. Buying amps at Richie Street. Using my grandmother’s transistor radio as a pre-amp. Distortion. Loud, stinking, beautiful distortion. Memories of my grandmother being less than amused when her transistor radio stopped working. All those trips to Pro Music. The ‘Only the Brave’ bass. School culturals. Stairway to Heaven. Nataraja and the Nylon Knickers. Vasanth and I playing for the inter-house culturals. Michael Learns to Bloody Rock. Who the fuck picked that song anyway? (Bad memory. Arrrghh!!). The (world-famous) Rubber Band. God, how we sucked. But it was so much fun.

Memories of college. Me - naïve, bespectacled, with hair on my head, the innocent little college student. Music Nites. Learning to sing in key. Wish You Were Here. Freefalling. Buying my second guitar for 200 rupees. Music Club. Acoustic Night. GooGoo and I playing Beatles songs. Raag Bhairavi.

Various jam sessions along the way. And what a trip it has been!

‘Hotel California’ was the first song I learnt. As far as first songs go, it's not that easy. I’ve never bothered trying to improve my playing that song. I still know only the chords, and have no idea how to play the lead or any fills. I still play it the way I used to play it all those years ago.

The thing about learning an instrument is this – you never stop learning. As far as my learning is concerned, I’m stuck in this plateau. Can’t see anything for miles and miles and miles. Hopefully this will change. I don’t know how long it’ll take, and frankly that’s something I should not worry about. With practice, the plateau will pass, and the next level will be in sight.

I keep telling myself I should practise more often. To paraphrase Frank Zappa, I should just ‘shut up and play my guitar’!

Before I shut up, I’d like to acknowledge a few people responsible for sending me off on my 6-string voyage, and for making it highly enjoyable. Faiz, Kartik, Vasanth M, Rohit KC, Rozy, Adrish, GooGoo, Siddharth Rajan, Ramu, Bass Arjun and Rohit Fernandes. Thanks heaps, wherever you are!

Play on...