Tag Archives: Danelectro Guitars

Song Fodder/Broken Little Bird

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When I was teaching writing, I worked at cultivating the habit of writing in my students. I’d say to them, “writers write—so start writing.” Not necessarily profound, but really: you want to write, so in order to start the flow of words, you need to prime the pump.

Countless people who have dreamed of playing guitar often never start with something as basic at what I wrote above. Rather than writing, you need to begin playing—every single day! How do I know this? Because I’ve taken that advice and parlayed it into guitar skills that while they aren’t steeped in virtuosity—they serve their purpose and allow me to write songs and then, play them. How much more do you need?

I’m a fan of The Hold Steady and the songwriting of Craig Finn. For my money, he’s as good as anyone writing in the rock medium. His songs flesh out stories about characters like hoodrats (“Your Little Hoodrat Friend”) and women with migraines that bet successfully on horses (“Chips Ahoy”).

Finn is a proponent of the daily writing habit. That’s what he lives by as a songwriter. If it’s good enough for Finn, it’s good enough for me and anyone else who wants to write songs.

While I’m no Craig Finn, I have written more than 20 songs over the past 16 months, or so. I just wrote another one last night.

Songwriters such as Finn, mine the experiences from his life for fodder that become the lyrics of his songs. I used an incident that happened last week to craft the lyrics and then the progression that became “Broken Little Bird.”

Tuesday morning, prior to jumping on the phones—my source of shekels and keeping ahead of the bills—listening to Finn and his band. I had ideas of where I wanted to go with “Broken Bird,” but knew I was still short of it. Lunch was spent fiddling with lyrics and moving verses around, wolfing down some Annie Chung KungPao. By the end of the day, I had the song framework I wanted.  Thanks, Craig!

After writing it on my acoustic, I thought I’d fiddle around playing it on my Danelectro last night in the basement. Danny is my “Fender” and his tone is what I was aiming for.  I located a drum track that was perfect and I started the sound recorder on my phone. My rough mix prior to breakfast, and here you have it. Song-making in 48 hours from JimBaumerMe.

Oh, and that person who after 15 years walked away with two sentences in an email: you’re simply song fodder.

Predictions for a New Year

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Last year at Christmas, I could barely play 5 songs. By “play,” I mean sitting with my guitar and being able to make it through a song, knowing the words and chords without relying on sheet music. I had a couple of songs I was close to “nailing,” but the others I cloyed my way through.

A year later, I can now play an hour’s worth of music (or more) and my setlist is now in the double digits. I’ll still miss a chord change now-and-then, but I’m confident in my ability to play music. This from someone who believed the messaging that he’d never be good enough to perform with a guitar.

What’s the difference a year later?

A good portion of my growth can be attributed to practice. Most of the previous 365 days of 2020 (in the midst of a global pandemic), I spent hours alone in my basement: just me, three guitars (two electrics, one acoustic), a combo amp, a laptop, and a small Bose speaker. I acquired a two-channel PA midway through 2020 and a couple of microphones. These tools allowed me to approximate the live performance space, or a reasonable facsimile.

I have no crystal ball and hence, no sense of the next time I’ll be in front of an audience of flesh and blood humans. Once our “esteemed” leader, Governor “Crackhead,” shut everything down this fall, she deprived me of my weekly opportunity to get out and hit open mics. This was an essential part of my growth as a performer. No matter how much you practice, standing on a stage in front of a bunch of total strangers is an entirely different animal than sitting alone in the basement. Songs you’ve nailed time and time again become clunky messes played live in front of an audience. But, falling on my face made me better. Continue reading →

The Worst

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Falsely (this is born out to me, daily), I’ve held onto some delusional notion that for a few days and perhaps—even weeks—humans in America can dig deeper and find their better natures. And after all their efforts at excavation—actually extend their humanity beyond the end of their noses. It’s probably a case of too many times viewing “It’s a Wonderful Life,” or Hallmark’s endless parade of holiday happy-ever-after schlock.

I know I’m living on another planet. Just days before Thanksgiving—that most American of holidays in terms of myth and nostalgia—I was reminded yet again in a very in-your-face sort of way of how shitty nearly every human I manage to rub elbows with, or come close enough to, and having their noxious aura leak into my own personal space. Did I tell you that I hate most humans (or many of the ones I am forced to endure, daily)?

At work, there is a tree. Someone thought we could all write what we’re thankful for on a blank leaf. Then, hang it on the tree. I don’t hold it against them. They meant well.

For more than a week now, I’ve been trying to think of something I could write that wouldn’t sound snarky, or be considered mean, or end up simply being sad. It occurred to me today that I won’t be adding a leaf to the tree.

Before Mark was killed, I had a dream. In the dream, I was asked to front a band and play guitar. This from the guy who was years out from beginning his year-long journey into simply surviving, picking up a guitar and playing it nearly every day. In the dream, somehow, I faked my way through songs and they sounded really good. I woke from the dream and thought, “I wish I could play like that.” Continue reading →

Barre Chords are Hard

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It’s a rare day when I don’t spend at least 30 minutes with one of my guitars: whether it’s strapping on my electric or cradling my acoustic. Often, I’ll spend time with both. This has yielded improvement I never expected. Still, I have a way to go to play as well as I’d like to.

The internet is chock full of videos on all aspects of guitaring. But like all things interwebs, this plethora of information doesn’t always guarantee that you’ll learn things in a systematic manner. Also, you can spend more time searching for or simply watching videos rather time in the “wood shed” actually practicing your chops.

There’s a local musician I’ve been following. He’s had some measure of success and a few Saturdays ago, he was playing at a local watering hole. I decided to drive down to the beach and catch a set of his. I also had an ulterior motive—I was going to ask if he’d be game for giving me lessons.

We talked and he said to reach out to him via Facebook. I waited a week and sent him a note.

I’m an impatient person. When I didn’t hear back, I began looking for another teacher.

The problem once again with the internet is that it’s great for revealing information—it really sucks in terms of accessing what that information means.

On Monday I put Danny in the back seat in the midst of a snow squall and drove to South Portland. I pulled up outside a nondescript real estate office. I had no idea what door I was supposed to enter for my lesson. I texted the teacher: he came downstairs. We had our lesson. Continue reading →