Musicians In Motion

At a stoplight yesterday I noticed that the guy in the truck next to me was playing drums, with glossy ebony drumsticks, on his steering wheel. Kind of funny because I was playing my harmonica. He sensed he was being scrutinized and glanced over at me. When he saw the harp he started laughing. As the light changed he gave me two sticks up as a form of acknowledgement and farewell. I gave him the harp salute and we went our separate ways. As the manner and methods of gesticulation between drivers in SoCal are generally less cordial I saw this as significant. We, he and I, were just a couple of guys with no overt connection. Different wants, needs, fears and psychological abnormalities. But there was something after all. We both liked to play musical instruments while operating potentially dangerous motorized equipment. And in that moment, careening through space on this Big Blue Marble, it was enough. Rat-a-tat-tat.

Got Little Walter, If You Need Him

I finally hit the classic Little Walter riff today. Just picked up the harp and tore right into it. It was flawless and nuanced, with fat tone, perfect spacing and soulful bends. Strange, because that's the antithisis of my style. It was performed with a level of insouciance that was mildly startling. I mean, I was startled. Nobody actually witnessed it but the ghost of Little Walter, God and me. (If you're an atheist, subtract God). The lack of a temporal audience may be an an issue to some, but not to me. I figure that essentially we're all just here to entertain ourselves anyway. And don't insult me by demanding proof. It happened. I was there and I'm a blogger. You can trust me.

The riff itself is not the most technically difficult to play if you just want to hit the notes. If you want to say something with it you have to dig a little deeper. Sharp articulation on the first two notes, a little softer on the third and sustain the 2d bent for and extra half count and finish it with a little fading vibrato. Any decent harp player can do it but I'm far from decent. In fact, I see this as something of a right of passage. And after yesterday's nihilism-fest I feel like I'm facing in the right direction again.

Little Walter Riff
2d 3d 2d 2d** 2d 3d** 2d
2d 3d 2d 2d** 2d 2d**
2d 3d 2d 2d**
2d 3d 2d 2d**
2d 3d 2d 2d** 2d 2d**

Horse Latitudes, Or Hitting The Harp Wall

Horse Latitudes - The subtropical latitudes between 30 and 35 degrees both north and south. Under a ridge of high pressure, the region is infamous for muggy heat, rolling waves and often, no wind. Many sailing vessels were stranded in these regions for weeks because of lack of propulsion. Named for ancient Persian navigator Sataspes who mapped the regions and whose name is translated as "horse". Or, much more lyrical, gruesome and to the point: The region where sailing crews were forced to dump horses and livestock in the ocean in order to reduce weight and increase speed. Also referred to as the "doldrums".

And that's where I find myself today. No motivation or momentum. A feeling of general malaise or ennui most often associated with those in western cultures who are generations removed from having to worry about ordinary subsistence and use 99% of their energy contemplating their entertainment options. Basically I'm feeling sorry for myself for some undefined reason. In situations such as this I've found it's imperative to either focus on something other than yourself in order to break free of the narcissistic cycle or to watch several John Wayne flicks in succession. Guess I'm off to Blockbuster.