Like, spaghetti, ramen, egg, Kevin from The Offspring, our brains, you know, all the cool noodles.
Of course, since this is a music blog, I’m not talking about food noodles or people noodles. I’m talking about noodles related to playing. Nothing too purposeful, just moving your fingers around and finding new ways to put notes together. Improvising little melodies or things that are completely pattern-based to stretch your fingers.
The Art of Noodling.
There are plenty of musicians who get annoyed at people who noodle during soundcheck, and I completely understand that feeling. It can be very annoying when your bandmates do that when you’re supposed to be getting things set up or getting sounds or whatever.
Annoying as it can be, it is FUN, no matter when you do it. It’s part of the love affair with your instrument. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do it while people are setting up or waiting for you to play the soundcheck song, or at band practice when there’s a lull. Unfortunately, for most of us, the times are few and far between that we get to noodle at gig volume. Either we’re stuck in some apartment where we can’t be loud, or we have small children or people in our family with sensory issues – there are frequently obstacles to noodling.
I will say, it kind of makes me sad that there are no more Music Lab practice facilities in Austin (the last one just closed last month). I used to go to the one on St. Elmo during my lunch sometimes and crank my amp up to get sounds or just to be loud. It was great. Thankfully, even closer to home there’s Space Rehearsal, and it’s fantastic, but a little more pricey (and now a lot more busy).
Besides being loud, another aspect of noodling that is great fun is queueing up a song and finding the chords and key and noodling over top of it. It’s a great way to stretch out as a soloist and find your voice. It’s kind of how I learned to solo, actually. And to this day, I think I’m a fairly confident lead player because of it – I can almost always find something tuneful and interesting to play over whatever chord progression you throw at me, with a caveat: This is limited to pop, rock, country, and blues as of right now – some jazz stuff is still way over my head. But I still try. I still grab my guitar, throw together an inspiring sound or use one I already created, and noodle.
And you can do it, too, if you’ve never tried. You should, actually. The great part is that you can start super basic. Just find something with a basic chord progression or an easy 12-bar-blues sort of song – old Chuck Berry stuff is great – find the key, and find the notes that fit the chords. Let’s say you have a 12-bar blues in A – you can play pretty much anything with the notes A, C, D, E, G over it and make something approximating music while you learn to noodle. Add some other notes in there, like a D#, B, or F#, and you can add some really interesting texture and “flavor” to what you’re doing. If the chord structure underneath is basic – just A, D, and E – you can really go to town with those 8 notes and find interesting little melodies or harmonies.
The point is, stretch out. Don’t be afraid to sound like hot garbage. Messing around with scales and different notes is an excellent way to learn how different scales sound over different chord progressions. Learning what notes are in the chords you’re playing is also a good way of finding tasty source material for your noodling. Better yet, learn what notes seem “wrong” so you can color the main chords of what you’re playing and use those consonances and dissonances to make your noodles have some emotion and personality.
Or just say”fuck it” and wank whatever you want over it. There are plenty of “metal covers” of pop songs and stuff on YouTube and Instagram that basically feature the metal guy shredding metal licks over very non-metal songs that have been changed to have chunk-chunk metal rhythm guitars and typewriter bass drums. That’s kind of off topic, but that sort of wankery can be super fun, too.
So don’t worry about having a noodle plan, just NOODLE. It’s good for you.
Sadly, unlike most delicious food-type noodles – they’re just carbs, and we really don’t need a whole lot of carbs in our lives. I mean, we need enough, but we don’t need too many. Believe me, I know. I like all kinds of noodles WAY TOO MUCH. I am a chub chub as a result. But I can shred, kinda, so…
Have fun, take care, and peace be the journey! TMS
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 41): Sometimes There’s No Time
“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” – Robert Burns
Translated, that basically means the best-laid plans often go awry. And that sums up my week of March 1st.
I had plans to do a little live-stream concert, shoot my first video in what would be a series of me talking about my guitars, maybe shoot a Bathroom Schizo song or two, get all the tempo-mapped songs for Chandler and The Bings edited and distributed to the band, and I couldn’t even manage to write a Museday blog. Life did its very best to intervene in every imaginable way this week.
Seems like my toddler has decided to enter the “terrible twos” three weeks before he turns three. Meltdowns, irrational whining…you know – the good stuff. So that’s left me little energy to do anything. Plus as I’ve said before, I spend all day in front of my computer for my work. Since it’s likely most of the videos I’d shoot would be in the studio, my energy for spending another minute in there after working in there all day is basically zero. It’s a shame, too, because it’s a great space for it, with my guitars hanging on the wall as a good backdrop for everything. It’s super convenient, too, as I already have cameras set up that I use for work Teamsing and Zooming. But not this week. Two days working until 7:00 because of workload. I’d rather be anywhere else. So that knocks out most of those issues except the blogging.
And unfortunately, I’m just going to have to punt on having any sort of interesting topic to muse on, except to say that life really doesn’t give a shit if you have ideas about how you’re going to be living it sometimes. Sometimes it just lives you. (In Mother Russia…life lives you!)
In big-picture news, I’m optimistic about the numbers in the pandemic, and looking forward to this all being over soon. No matter what my dipshit governor says, we all still need to wear our masks and stay safe. Get vaccinated as soon as you can, and we can all get back to life on the planet and give each other hugs.
Walk with kindness, and may peace be the journey! TMS
Ah, the good ol’ days. Selective memories of a better, vanished time.
Nostalgia. I’ve engaged in quite a bit of it here on this blog. And to be honest, I find it as comforting as it is crippling. If you’re a long-time reader of the blog I’m sure you’ve read something about my “nostalgia spirals” on here – they’ve grown far less frequent as those memories and feelings become more distant and I actively try to focus on being present in my life as it is happening, but in a lot of ways I kind of miss them.
I used to be very good at imagining myself in my past. When you couple that with my just-barely-asleep “dreams” (thank you, long-time sleep disorders) and my ability to influence the things that are happening, almost to the point of lucid dreaming, my brain can almost feel like a time machine. Of course, the bad side of it is when I get into nostalgia spirals and they cause insomnia because I just can’t STOP thinking about how it felt to walk from my dorm to the dining hall at my college on a Sunday afternoon (when it always seemed to be windy for some reason…) Or I can’t stop thinking about jogging down the carpeted hall in my dorm my freshman year and basically jumping down the two flights of stairs to the first floor. Or how it felt to crunch my bare feet into the Berber carpeting in the first house my daughter came home to when she was a baby.
All these sense memories are powerful for me, and they’re like a sensory rolodex that I can flip around and find something to make me feel safe and happy, strolling around in my past.
The beautiful part of this is as the situational memories sort of mush up and fade a bit, the sensory ones seem to be pretty solid so long as I remember the triggers.
Tying this back into nostalgia, the reason nostalgia has always had such a grip on me might be how I grew up. Trying to make sense of a life between the ages of 5 and 18 where we moved every two years (on average), it was hewn into the fabric of my very existence to cling to the familiar, because so much of life was unfamiliar on a regular basis.
I think I rolled with it well, and I had my little brothers and my parents as “fellow travelers” on the journey, but I don’t know that I ever shook nostalgia-as-coping-mechanism. My spirals grow strongest during my darkest depressions, desperately searching through my history for a time when I didn’t feel so detached and sad.
I usually find some memory and then I’ll try and ignore all the questionable parts of how I actually was at that time and focus on the things I did. Ironically, many of the ones I latch onto actually come from times in my life when I was powerfully depressed. There were many times when I wasn’t mentally all that fit when life was actually being rather kind to me – I just couldn’t shake my caustic brain and the terrible way it treated me. So I wander into those periods I think both because there are cool things happening but also because I know I’m in a similar mental state.
Which brings me to that which 2020 hath wrought. I’ve had a couple of pretty solid dips in the past year – sadly I’m going through one right now even though things seem to be looking up – and the times I was depressed I managed to use old fond memories and being present in my life at the same time to mitigate the pain. It’s actually nice having a little one around – the world is so new. If you imagine how they must see the world – all the possibilities and things to learn – it can really be a welcome distraction from that asshole in your head telling you you’re a piece of shit and a horrible husband and father and brother and son and friend, and terrible at your job, a shitty musician, etc. etc.
And so the toddler definitely helps, as does clinging to pleasurable memories, but my biggest issue is that if I linger too long thinking about the past, it gets infected with the bad talk of the present. I beat myself up in three ways, longing for a past that can’t be lived again, sad that it wasn’t appreciated when it was my life, and then guilty for wanting life to be something other than the blessed thing it is now.
And that’s the thing: I am truly thankful for the life I have. It’s pretty great. I don’t know that I’d want to relive other parts of my life knowing what I knew then. It’d be fun to tackle them knowing what I know now…that might be rather exhilarating. Dammit. I need an “Environmental Simulator” like on The Orville – or something like that, where I can revisit those situations completely. Or maybe not. Maybe that’d just be another spiral. Much like this. Or this. Damn if I don’t repeat myself sometimes. Anyway…
Back to the topic. Nostalgia. I love it, it’s helpful. But it’s also a prison. So I have to be careful. I’m interested in reading your takes on nostalgia and how it affects you – hit me with a comment if you like. I’d love to get some more perspectives.
Thanks for reading! TMS
P.S. I get my first dose of the vaccine on Saturday. (yay obesity!) Next week’s post might be about that experience.
P.P.S. All the usual stuff – Black Lives Matter, wear a mask, physically distance, socialize digitally, wash your hands, care about facts…and a few new things: put country over party, call out bigots of every type, don’t mourn garbage that cancer takes out for us (not all of the dead deserve our respect, especially when they were horrid, cruel bullies who always talked ill of the dead and essentially ruined our discourse, radicalizing a large segment of our country and tearing it apart for their own financial gain), and believe in the common good and take care of people instead of being a selfish pile of shit.
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 39): Competition and Comparison
Even in the earliest days of playing music, I loved the idea of just finding ways to make sounds and play melodies so much that I don’t think I ever even really thought about where I stood in relation to other musicians.
I do remember being very proud to have been named to district band my first year playing an instrument (clarinet) in 4th grade. Coincidentally the same year I was put in the gifted and talented program. (Things were apparently good for Kid Schizo in the 1982-1983 school year.) But I don’t know that I thought of it as me fighting to be better than my peers in the band at school. I think I was just trying really hard to figure out how to read music and apply it to the fingerings I hadn’t quite mastered on the Bb clarinet.
School band wasn’t meant to be for me, though, because the following year I moved to northern California and I never stuck with it because the band director/teacher at my new school was an asshole who made me hate it.
I never stopped trying to make music, though. I had a toy ukulele that my parents got me that I’d always noodle on, and eventually I got a little Casio keyboard so I could create on my own terms. Just me and music. Even when I had a friend who was more advanced than me, I didn’t see it as trying to get better than him, I saw it as a way to learn.
Once I got to high school, and guitar entered the picture, I started to associate more with people my age who were learning how to play, and I became more aware that this sort of competitive attitude was a “thing”. That people in music were essentially doing the same thing we did in sports, “I’m better than you…” That’s not really how I’ve ever thought of music or approached it, but it was there.
The differences in ability level of the musicians I’d meet became something I noticed all the time. I was constantly comparing where I was to where they were. I don’t remember doing it in a competitive way, I think I was just a judgy twat. A Dunning-Kruger-effect-addled judgy twat.
You see, you don’t know what you don’t know. This is VERY powerful when it comes from moving from beginner to intermediate as a musician. When you make that jump, you really think you have a leg up on the beginners and are starting to be something special. But you have no damn idea how lame you actually are, because you can’t know that. You haven’t learned how to perceive it. That ignorance-fueled hubris was definitely a solid part of my development between the ages of 19 and 23. But then I grew…
And almost all of the “I’m better than that guy” shit started to melt away completely. Because I started to be around guys I was most certainly not better than, and I realized that I had a LOT to learn. And that was humbling and awesome and would set me on my path for the rest of my musical life.
Finding a way to make those competitive urges work in a positive way – as fuel and inspiration – is the only thing that makes them valid for music.
I don’t know I’m the best person to make such a generalized statement like that about these urges, because I have an inherent bias against them. Competitive urges are BAD for me. You see, I’m never more of a dick than when I’m playing a game of some kind. I can’t stand losing. In team sports, individual sports, board games, video games, whatever – I want – no, NEED to win. If I had ever applied this to music, I probably would have quit a long time ago, because I hate that aspect of my personality. I like to be a kind and good person, and that’s incompatible with me fueled by competitiveness.
Perhaps that’s just me and you can handle it. Well, good for you.
Either way, using those competitive feelings to yield positive results is the best thing. In my old Jacksonville band Slaphappy, we had our “friend bands”, the most prominent of which was Big Al and The Kaholics. They also were the most similar to us, so it was very easy for us to think about them as a rival as well (even though each band always recommended the other when they couldn’t do a gig). We made each other better by trying and failing various things, and supporting each other so we could both learn what worked and didn’t work with our similar audiences. It was a competition, but a very friendly one. And mutually beneficial.
If you get in a situation where someone blows your doors off, either by being a superior player or a more engaging performer, use it as an example of a path you can take, instead of being envious and trying to drag them down because they’re your competition.
(Speaking of the envy/dragging people thing – that’s a blog for another day. I’m not sure why musicians are so keen on this sort of behavior, but it would be super nice if they’d just fucking stop it.)
I find myself to be competitive in the sense that I always want to beat my last performance and continue to be awesome. It’s now been 355 days since my last show in front of a real, live audience. The bar has never been set lower. I just want to play.
Hopefully the band will figure out a time to practice next week so we can keep some forward momentum, and hopefully these immunity numbers for COVID-19 keep getting more promising as the vaccines get out there so we can get our asses back on stage with our people. I miss live performance more than I ever have missed anything relating to my music.
Y’all take care – Texans keep staying strong because we fucking have to – none of the dipshits in government seem to give a crap about fixing anything long-term. My love and warmth goes to everyone suffering because of the avaricious swine that run our energy grid and energy companies. And a big FUCK YOU to the governor, senators, and representatives who aren’t doing JACK FUCKING SHIT for Texans who are hurting.
Mask up, distance yourself, talk to your loved ones on video chat, give your immunized mom a hug if it’s been more than two weeks since her second dose of the vaccine. Black lives matter.
Peace be the journey! TMS
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 38): Communication and Honesty
Ah, communication. It’s something we all need to be better at.
(he said, as he dangled a participle)
Grammar aside, finding ways to make sure we effectively communicate concerns and keep the people with whom we’re working or interacting up to speed on everything is really paramount.
It’s true in relationships, as the best and most long-lasting relationships tend to be the ones that have a foundation of strong communication, so small things are dealt with quickly and never become the big things that tear it all apart.
It’s true at work, as expectations can be properly set and people can be secure in where they stand on the team and know what they need to do.
And since this is a music blog, obviously I’m going to relate it to bands. In my experience, the worst band experiences have been the ones where communication isn’t solid or it’s especially hard. Not everyone likes facing uncomfortable truths. Through my staggering lack of self-worth and my endless self-analysis about my every flaw, I’ve become quite the expert at finding trouble spots. As I’ve covered before on this blog, (probably over 10 years ago), I kind of end up being “The Asshole” in bands because I (lovingly) call people on their shit – whether it be their level of knowledge of the material or their level of interest in getting it right. I’m much nicer about it now than I once was, because I’ve grown up enough to know that some people just don’t want to hear it, they’re too fragile to take it, or it’s too demotivating for them to be criticized in any way. I am always happiest in a situation where people can freely call each other out and not get all butthurt about it. It’s best when they know that it always comes from a place of love and not some expression of dominion or power or some sort of passive-aggressive insult designed to hurt. That’s never my motivation.
I’m starting to drift from the point, though – sometimes communication is easy, and people get where you’re coming from right away, without reassurances or any need to qualify what you say. That’s certainly ideal. More often, figuring out how people can receive a message is one of the best things you can do to effectively communicate in a band setting. Getting to know your bandmates and how they will positively and negatively respond to different methods of delivering opinions will ensure that communication will be effective and engender progress, rather than drama.
I hate drama.
There’s nothing that makes me want to run away from a band situation more than someone who has drama or likes to create it. Any time that’s even seemed to be an issue, I’ve expressed that I think it’s bullshit, or, if it isn’t worth the discussion, I just quit the band. No sense wasting my time trying to talk to people who don’t want to listen.
And that’s okay – sometimes when communications break down, it’s just time to accept that and cut your losses and bail. If it’s worth it, though, you will find a way to make it work and improve those lines of communication.
And that’s the same with relationships – sometimes you will never be back on the same page, and in those situations, you end it. If you are both turning toward each other, even when things are broken, communicating your needs and feelings about things will eventually help you work them out and you won’t have to end the relationship.
I’m a “radical honesty” kind of person, and I never make people pay for just being honest. I might not be pleased by what they have to say, and I’ll communicate that, but there are no consequences for just expressing their perspective. I find it useful to be this way. Relationships are more real. Bonds are more tight. People know where they stand. It’s occasionally painful but worth it. Maybe you could try it, too? Make sure that you pick the right person for it – some people can’t stand that sort of blunt, real communication.
The bottom line: You have to want to find the best way to deliver your message to its intended recipient. That takes an understanding of how they process information, how their personality/ego affects what they hear, and the level of honesty they can bear. Work on all that, and you should become excellent at communicating your thoughts and feelings and improving your life, work, and band situations.
Thanks for reading my incoherent ramblings, though the bar for coherence is set pretty low this week thanks to Bruce Castor.
Stay safe. Wear a mask. Stay away from people (either 6 feet or just at home). Video chat with family and friends (i.e. CAWL YA MUTHA!!). Black Lives Matter. The case is clear – he is guilty and Trump needs to be convicted and barred from ever holding federal office again.
Peace be the journey!
TMS
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 37): PRODUCTION and Performance
Right now Chandler and The Bings has been working on improvements to our live show, even though we haven’t played a live show in almost a year.
That may seem sort of silly, but after the lukewarm receptions to basically all our efforts last year once the pandemic started, was clear to us investing in the show, which is the foundation of why the band even exists, is the best use of the limited time we have.
It has been TOUGH for all of us to have time at the same time. We’ve managed three rehearsals – only one of them “formal” (at a rehearsal studio). And though they have all been productive, it’s been an interesting adjustment because we’re kind of fundamentally changing the WAY we play all our songs to enable us to better integrate “big show” elements into the production. Not backing tracks or anything, but PRODUCTION. Which makes certain members of the band very happy. Me, I could go either way. I’m perfectly happy being the way we’ve been, but also excited to try to take it to the next level. Going with the flow and being a good teammate.
The good thing is, there’s a lot of cool shit possible in the future, once we deal with this pandemic shit. I’m just hoping all our “homes” are still around once capacity returns to bars.
I did decide that I’m going to do a livestream concert soon. Definitely within the next two weeks. I’m going to just pop on the mixer/cameras and have at it. It’ll be fun. Once I’ve determined when, I’ll have events out.
Not much else to report in MusicalSchizo-land. No new music. Maybe I’ll finally record some bathroom stuff. Hmmm….Let’s see how the live show goes. Maybe I’ll go crazy and livestream FROM THE BATHROOM. That’d be insane. Or would it?
Stay safe, wash your hands, stay home, physically distance, call your family, hold criminals accountable, put country over party, and don’t forget: Black Lives Matter.
I have been using fakery to get my sounds for over 20 years.
It’s true. Rather than relying on actual analog circuitry to create the sounds I use on stage, no matter whether I’m playing bass or guitar, generally-speaking and for the vast majority of the past 20 years, I’ve been using a technology called “modeling”.
If you happen to be unfamiliar with the technology, modeling defines a variety of techniques used to digitally emulate analog circuitry. They basically take a real amplifier or effects module and do a TON of measurements on it to see how it behaves and then they convert that information into computer algorithms that create a precise replica of how those analog circuits change the signals that pass through them.
I was first introduced to this technology through Line 6’s very first product, the AxSys 212 guitar amplifier. It frankly blew me away with all the different sounds you could get out of it. There really wasn’t anything on the market like it at the time. There were a few amps that sort of did the same thing, but none that did it as well or in quite the same way. It had this incredible footswitch that connected by just ONE Cat-5 cable that basically turned the amp into a multi-effects rack that was completely foot-controllable – no pedal board needed.
Line 6’s AxSys 212 with Floor Board foot controller
Line 6’s physical modeling “Tube Tone” technology was the first that really kind of breathed like a “real” amp to me. I didn’t have anywhere near enough money to afford it, nor did I want something that looked as weird as it did, but it definitely put the company on my radar.
A year or two later, I had gainful employment and was looking to get a new amplifier because I wanted to have something reliable and loud enough to gig. The leading candidate at the time was a Peavey Special 212, because I really liked the idea of not having to worry about tubes or my amp being particularly delicate. And I really liked the Peavey TransTube analog circuit – it was just mushy enough to make me not miss having tubes. So every time I’d go to my local music emporiums, I would plug into a Special 212 and play a little, and frequently I’d pop over to the Line 6 stuff to see if there was anything new, and that’s when I saw their “Flextone” line of amps. I thought, “Wow – this sounds just as good as that big boy. And you can use that big foot controller, too!” The price was still too steep for me at the time, but I did gather up a promo CD that previewed the sounds available in Flextone, and kept my eyes open while borrowing my brother’s Fender Ultimate Chorus when I needed enough volume to play over a drummer.
Line 6 Flextone XL
Here’s the audio from that promotional Flextone CD, in case you were curious:
I was thinking, “If only they’d create something that would allow me to afford this revolutionary technology…” Then they introduced POD.
The Original “Kidney Bean”.
I HAD to have it.
It was a lot cheaper than their amps, AND it worked with that big Floor Board thing from the AxSys!
In early 1999, I did a payment plan with American Musical Supply and got the Line 6 POD, the Floor Board (which now didn’t have that green stripe on it – it was just black and white), and a nice little bag to hold the POD and power supply. Considering I’d just gotten myself a nice computer and my first “real” audio interface, this POD was the perfect next step to be able to really record my music. I didn’t figure I’d be playing gigs any time soon, as I’d just started playing bass with a cover band and I figured that’d occupy my time.
I realized from the start that I could also get a great sound plugging the POD into my PA system…the POD wasn’t designed just as an effects box to put into a guitar amp, and honestly, it didn’t sound particularly good when run like that, even with the “amp” setting on the outputs. So that became my guitar rig – POD into PA. Little did I know that kind of setup would basically be my guitar and bass rig for the rest of my career as a musician.
In June 2000, Line 6’s next excellent product (for me) hit stores: Bass POD.
I got George’s Music in Jax Beach to hold this for me the FIRST DAY it was available!
I bought one the first day it was out. I called George’s Music (at the time, probably the best music store in Jacksonville, way out at the beach, about an hour’s drive from my house in Orange Park) and they put one behind the counter for me. This changed my whole approach live.
Before, I’d just run into my combo amp and send the XLR direct out to the PA. And unfortunately, it had a buzz and didn’t translate my amp tone particularly well. Now, I’d run the amp model output to the PA we were using, however large or small, and I’d have a big-ass bass tone rumbling through the PA system. I’d run the DI out to my amp on stage for a little more localized thumping. I’d use the Floor Board with it to switch effects or boost my signal, or to run a wah-wah sound and cut my volume between sets or for bass changes. It was great. I loved the sound. I loved the weird looks on sound guys faces when they heard how awesome my bass sounded through their PA. I was fully hooked. Eventually, I’d ditch the amp and just get my bass sound from my on-stage monitors. Lugging the bass amp just wasn’t worth it.
Over the years, I’ve become quite a Line 6 fanboy, participating in various user forums (as Tripper), owning a ridiculous amount of different Line 6 products, and even making friends with people who work there (or worked there) online. Once I even was in a development group where I had to sign an NDA helping Line 6 with ideas for their next products. I was even kind of a part of Line 6’s marketing, since pictures of me were used to create line drawings in the marketing materials for one of the products. I never really wore the rose-colored glasses that most fanboys have – I’ve always acknowledged the superiority of analog circuits – but the gap between the analog originals and modeling technology has grown narrower with every new generation of modeling, from Line 6, Fractal Audio Systems, Kemper, or whoever.
As new POD units came out, I’d upgrade, as they always seemed to find more detail and get closer to a more “real” sound. I’ve owned at least one of every generation of POD. Lots of amps, too. I had one of the original Spider amps for a little while. It kind of sucked, to be honest. I sent it back and used the cash to get a Flextone II Plus that I purchased from an internet buddy who had created a head enclosure for the amp guts that I would later use with a Carvin stereo 4×12″ cabinet for a cool half-stack setup. I got lucky and picked up their flagship Vetta amplifier (with an even BIGGER floor board) for an amazing deal, and I lugged that heavy beast to all my 2003-2006 guitar-playing shows when there was room. When there wasn’t room, I’d just use a PODxt.
I was an early-ish adopter of their Variax guitars – the original black one I got (which at a little over $900 is still the most I’ve ever spent on a guitar) – is still my #1 choice for playing acoustic shows (since it has a great acoustic guitar emulation built in). The Variax system modeled different guitars, and using the specialized VDI connector with a piece of Line 6 gear that had the capability, you could save your guitar settings in the amp or floor unit with your amp settings and switch them immediately – going from a clean acoustic sound to a Les Paul into a crunchy Marshall amp with one stomp of your foot.
TMS in November 2005 with Vetta and Variax connected via VDI
Around 2007 or so I eventually got a POD X3 Live, and it is one of my favorite pieces of gear I’ve ever owned. It has a VDI connector and the dual-amp feature of the Vetta, but in a compact and light floor board format with one pedal (I used for volume and wah) that fit perfectly on basically every stage but gave you full control over your settings.
Longest-serving #1 rig – beat to death and still works great!
The X3 Live was my main rig for bass and guitar for years, and then I got the POD HD500, which had very little capability for bass. So the X3 remained my bass rig and I tried to make the HD500 work for guitar. I also acquired a James Tyler Variax JTV-69 that became my #1 for electric guitar shows. When I played guitar with the band Nudge in 2014 I used the JTV-69 with the HD500, and again for my brief tenure with Flext in 2016.
Me in 2014 with my James Tyler Variax JTV-69 (HD500 on the floor, not pictured) Photo by Cecily Johnson
Eventually they sold add-ons to expand the capabilities of the HD500, but I wasn’t that impressed overall and it fell into disuse once I took the leap of faith and bought the very-expensive-but-utterly-brilliant Helix in 2017 (like my original POD, on a payment plan from AMS).
Best. Gear. Ever.
After getting Helix, I didn’t really want anything else. Then they announced HX Stomp, which is basically a tiny Helix and the perfect little rig for me to use for my bass gigs. I had to have that, so I managed to trick Guitar Center into giving me a massive discount shortly after they appeared in stores, and it’s been my #1 bass rig ever since.
Tiny box, MASSIVE SOUND!
I owe so much of my creativity and fun with music over the past 22 years to Line 6, their wonderful community of users and their creative and useful products. Some musicians like to crap on them, and that’s fine. Not everyone is going to “get it”.
Line 6 started out small, grew massive with the success of the POD amp modeling/effects units and their Spider amps, lost their way for a while in the late 2000s/early 2010s and made some truly uninspired gear and questionable marketing choices, but have returned to form, most recently under new ownership as part of Yamaha Guitar Group. They have an inspired team of designers and developers constantly improving all the Helix/HX series and their other products, the community of users is better than ever, and their customer service (at least for North American customers) is second to none in their industry.
I’ve always been able to make their gear work for me and sound great in the process. One of my favorite things as a Line 6 user is having people come up to me at shows, especially snobby musicians, and compliment me on my sound, only to have them be utterly shocked when they see what I’m running.
Thanks, Line 6. I’ve given you lots of my money over the years, but it’s been worth every penny and more. I’m proud to be a Line 6 fanboy.
Peace be the journey!
TMS
APPENDIX: A list of the Line 6 things I’ve owned over the years (I still own all but the starred ones – I don’t think I forgot anything):
POD (the original – version 1.4 – never updated to 2.0) POD bag (fits POD and power supply) Floor Board Floor Board bag (fits a POD and the Floor Board) POD amp bracket (allows POD to be mounted to mic stand or on top of an amp on its handle) Bass POD Spider 112* (original red Spider) – took back to buy… Flextone II Plus with… Flextone Cab (turned Flextone II Plus into 100w stereo amp) Flextone amp cover PODxt (new generation modeling technology – added all extra amps and effects through “model packs” – lives with my brother now) Vetta Combo* (2×12″ LOUD guitar amp that did two models at a time with…) FBV Longboard* (an even BIGGER floor board with more switching ability) FBV Longboard bag Bass PODxt* (sold in 2019 – it had been used maybe twice in a decade) Variax guitar (later renamed “500”) Variax 300 guitar Variax Bass 5-string Pocket POD POD X3 Live Variax Bass 4-string* (sold because I don’t really play 4-string bass much) Relay G30 Wireless (perfect for over 10 years – input jack just broke in 2020) TonePort GX USB recording interface GearBox VST (computer recording plugin) TonePort DI USB recording interface POD Farm VST (computer recording program/plugin) James Tyler Variax JTV-69 guitar (my #1 gigging guitar other than acoustic) POD HD500* (sold in 2020 because I wasn’t using it anymore) Helix Floor (best bit of modeling gear I’ve ever owned) Helix Backpack (got for free on a special when I bought Helix) Helix Native (computer plugin version of the Helix) TonePort UX8 8-channel USB interface (bought at a pawn shop cheap) POD X3 (the bean-shaped one-got cheap to use at work and as a backup rig) HX Stomp (like a teeny baby version of the Helix – my main bass rig) POD Go (like a more simplified version of the Helix) Powercab 112 Plus (just got Tuesday – a clever amplification solution)
Museday Mumblings (Vol. 35): When Will We Figure This Shit Out?
The past week or two have just drained me. Disgraceful, violent hateful behavior and death caused by people who believe in a complete fantasy and their anger stoked by Trump and his minions. Disgusting. They killed a fucking cop. The “blue lives matter” crowd. Ugh.
Thankfully, Trump and his ilk are out.
Best of luck to President Biden and Vice-President Harris.
And may people start to care about having a factual basis for their beliefs and doing some goddamn research instead of believing unsourced conspiracy nonsense and the propagandists and sensationalists in the media.
And may we also actually look at policies instead of political parties.
And may we learn the actual fucking definition of SOCIALISM instead of using it as a blanket term for everything Democrat or progressive.
I’m tired of the adult babies in this country that prefer a convenient story to just accepting reality with all its flaws. That goes for basically all parts of people’s lives.
And for fuck’s sake, start loving one another – start from kindness and empathy instead of “wait – why does HE get that? I should get that…”, AKA, the new entitled-person “American dream”.
We’ll get back to happy music stuff again next week.
But for now, remember, entitled white people: Black Lives Matter, please stay the fuck home if you can help it, wear a mask, physically distance yourself, and wash your damn hands. Connect with the people you care about over the phone or video chat.
Sometimes people are famous for one particular thing, but in reality, there’s so much more they have to offer the world than just that one particular thing.
Steve Martin was one of the most popular live comedians of the 1970s, and well-known from his many TV appearances. Then he was one of the biggest comedic movie stars of the 1980s. But it turns out he had more to offer, because he was also a successful novelist, and a truly amazing musician. Just full of surprises, that wild and crazy guy.
People like to typecast people, though – think of them for the one thing that they know them from. And as humans, that can be hard to shake, because once we associate someone with something, we kind of get stuck.
I feel like Neil Peart is another one of those people. He’s almost universally known as one of the best rock drummers ever. Top 5, for sure, on almost anyone’s list. Surely for most musicians. Neil influenced countless drummers. He pushed people to excel in ways they would have never considered before hearing him attack a drum kit. He played with the deep knowledge of a true craftsman, composing drum symphonies that showed his ability to float around the kit with the finesse of a dancer and pound them into oblivion with the bludgeoning brutality of a street fighter.
“The Professor” (as he became known) played intricate, fully-composed pieces that formed the foundation of some of the best progressive hard rock ever created. Not as self-absorbed as Yes, not as esoteric and weird as Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, not as inaccessible as Mahavishnu Orchestra or King Crimson, but not as pedestrian as so many other 70s rock bands. His band Rush managed to always do what was true to them, no matter whether it was a basic rocker with some clever musicianship, or 20-minute space operas. And they managed to evolve all the way through their career, honing their songcraft and tackling big picture ideas through their lyrics. Neil’s drumming was a standout feature of Rush – it was the hook that made people get used to Geddy Lee’s interesting vocal approach, and overshadowed Geddy and guitarist Alex Lifeson’s amazing individual performances.
Drumming is where Neil Peart became a superstar. He won “best drummer” over and over as he constantly challenged himself to perfect his style and evolve as the muse carried him to different places. Starting with a Bill Bruford-meets-Keith Moon attack on Rush’s early records, capturing the precision and complexity of Bruford’s approach, mating it with the manic intensity of Moon. As his playing evolved, he expanded on the progressive aspects, exploring crazy time signatures and polyrhythms and an ever-growing palette of sounds leading to an ever-growing drum kit, featuring orchestral bells, wind chimes, and all sorts of other percussion. This excess appealed to the aspirational musician kids of the 70s in much the same way the flash and showmanship of KISS launched thousands of hard rock garage bands.
But this wasn’t all of what Neil offered. You see, all of those big themes Rush was exploring in their music, all those fantasy and science-fiction narratives and Randian philosophy, which then evolved into many songs about fame and society and culture, then to socially-conscious takes on life in the 80s and personal songs about how we connect and relate to one another – all of those ideas were Neil’s. The big thoughts, big dreams, tapestries of lovely words and stories that went over Rush’s complex and aggressive but often equally-beautiful music were from his mind. Most people would never expect the drummer to write all the words to all the songs, but Neil did. Because Neil was as much a student of drums as he was of the human condition.
Suspicious of strangers, always, but empathetic and always curious, Neil was a self-taught intellectual. In his words and philosophy, he evolved from his younger dalliances with the selfish materialism of Rand into understanding the value of being connected and looking out for one another in the face of the oppression that is modern life. He evolved into a “bleeding-heart libertarian” as he aged, understanding the value of our shared responsibility, while maintaining his fierce independence and privacy.
His life ended up being one of massive success that crumbled into heartbreaking tragedy when he lost his partner and his daughter within less than a year of one another – his entire family, his two most important people – gone. This spun him out into a few years of just riding his motorcycle all over North America, chronicled in the wonderful (and kind of painful) book, “Ghost Rider”. This was Neil’s second book, but the first one I’d been able to get my hands on, and though I was already 100% in on Neil as a drummer and lyricist, as Rush was my favorite band, it was surprising to me how much I enjoyed him as an author, too. He’s a big fan of description and prose, which I sometimes find distracting, but I never felt like it took you away from the story – reading his books with all their detail and lyrical flourish was just like listening to someone with a particular accent. He wrote many other books, most chronicles of his favorite music or stories from the road, the last few being books containing as many beautiful pictures as words.
But getting to the whole point of this – most musicians really only knew Neil as the masterful drummer that he was. Most never knew how wonderful a lyricist, writer, and storyteller he was.
Rush only got the true respect they deserved by the mainstream press until their later years as a band, but they always maintained their rabid fanbase, most accompanying them through musical and stylistic changes because as a live band, they were absolutely amazing every time.
With the huge bump in Rush’s popularity following the excellent documentary “Beyond The Lighted Stage”, people started to learn about Neil for more than his drumming. They started to learn he was the wordsmith and storyteller behind all of Rush’s classic songs. They learned about his writing, his idiosyncratic personality, his privacy. And they finally learned about his true brilliance, which went far beyond pummeling a GIANT drum kit in varying bars of 5/8, 6/8, and 4/4.
After his horrible tragedy he did end up meeting a wonderful lady in California and having another child late in life, who apparently has “the gift” and is learning to drum. The last five years of Neil’s life, after he retired from playing in 2015, were spent with his little girl and his wife Carrie, a photographer (the art kind, not the media or wedding kind). That is, of course, when he wasn’t fighting the monster that eventually took his life – glioblastoma.
I’ve said many times FUCK CANCER but this one really hurts. We lost Neil a little over a year ago, on January 7, 2020 (though most in the public didn’t find out until a few days later – a testament to everyone close to him that fiercely protected his privacy because of their love for him). In these weird pandemic times it somehow seems like it was simultaneously yesterday and a decade ago.
Neil taught me so many things about music.
I learned to count my first odd time signature because of him (and his song “Subdivisions”). I learned that you can be intellectual and poetic and write and sing flowery prose while you are rocking someone’s face off. I learned that there is always something more to learn, through his mid-90s complete deconstruction of his playing where he tried to swing more and learn to be more improvisational. I learned that being in a band with your best friends is fantastic. That level of trust makes everything musical that much easier. I learned how to listen for all the individual parts of an arrangement. And I learned that you should always follow your muse with all your heart.
I already missed him, since he retired in 2015 with Rush’s final show and had mostly been staying out of view, save for some writing on his blog. Unfortunately I missed out on seeing Rush’s final tour when it came through Austin, largely because I was quite poor at the time. I did see them multiple times over the years, though, and every show was awesome. I’m proud to say that my daughter’s first rock concert was a Rush show. (And she loved it!)
So, this may be long but it’s way too short to truly express how much of an impact Neil Peart made on my life. All I can say is thanks.
Shaking off that rust is tricky when you’re by yourself, especially when you’re trying to be ready to play shows – not that I imagine shows are happening any time soon, but I don’t want the rust to get so thick that it takes too long to shake it all off. The people who come to see the show deserve my best every time.
But, you see, rust never sleeps.
Every day that you don’t play, you get behind, and it grows.
Gotta stretch those fingers out.
Gotta clear that throat, fill those lungs.
Gotta keep that time.
We have some serious rust to knock off with the band. But with COVID cases spiking, it’s not the best time for in-person practice, so to keep everything moving, I made the multi-tracks for Pat and Alon that remove their guitars and vocals. So they can work on their rust individually.
One thing that’s also interesting is the communication rust that we’ve been through with the band. Since we haven’t been playing shows, we haven’t spent a ton of time physically together. At most shows, the majority of the time spent is hanging with each other. Setting up, eating, tearing down…the 2-3 hours we spend on stage are just a small part of the whole picture. The connections, our priorities, all got kind of disjointed and hazy. And we weren’t being particularly effective in sharing what we wanted. Thankfully, we’ve been more active and engaged, with TONS of new ideas for things, so that rust is mostly gone. Now just getting back to the music part and sounding like “us”.
We have had a couple of in-person rehearsals in the past couple of months, and they’ve definitely improved the communication and vocal rust. But damn, the rhythm rust is there. It can only be shed by actual time together playing, unfortunately.
Thankfully I have the best not-rehearsing-but-able-to-play-with-the-band resource: MULTITRACKS!
Yes, at our last full show on Leap Day 2020, I recorded the band. Separate tracks for every microphone and input, so each guitar, voice, and drum had its own mic, and I can make mixes for the other band members that are missing their parts so they can play and sing their parts along with the band. For me, I just mute the channels in the session in REAPER, my Digital Audio Workstation (DAW) where I record and mix all my audio.
Now that technology is where it is, many digital mixers have multi-channel computer interfaces. Chandler and The Bings runs a Behringer XR-18 mixer that features a USB output that I plug into my laptop which enables me to separate out all the parts. It’s actually the mixer that runs our in-ear monitor systems. We have a bunch of splitters that enable us to send a separate set of cables to the PA system at the venues we play so we have complete control over our monitor mixes. But I’m getting off track.
The point is, I’ve been playing my bass every night, and playing guitar, and really trying to get everything back moving and keep that persistent rust at bay. We shall see if I’m successful through this next spike. But I am very excited for the future when we can get together and play shows and have drunk people sing their respiratory droplets in our direction safely.
Until then…STAY THE FUCK HOME. WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS. QUARANTINE IF YOU’RE EXPOSED. And stay safe out there. Apparently the cult of 45 is now resorting to violence to prop up their cult leader and wannabe dictator. What a tiny, pathetic loser he is. I sincerely hope, dear reader, that you are not so stupid as to think for a minute that the little piggy deserves your respect or consideration. Let him go away and let’s focus on moving to having a decent society based on facts, evidence, love, and kindness instead of avarice, ego, tribalism, and anti-intellectualism.
Peace be the NON-journey. Go listen to your favorite album for me. And tell me what it is in the comments if you so desire. Maybe I’ll love it, too.
