So I’m walking the long weary road to rocking out again.
After too many years of lugging gear, long layovers, fruitless tours and hassling promoters to get paid after a dismal show, I’m grabbing my guitar and beginning that lovely journey toward making music again.
It started simply with a call from drummer Dan Achin (of Hence the Name and The Empire State fame) asking if I’d like to thrash about in a small sweaty room with equally sweaty men of like-minded musical tastes. That sentence sounded so much more inappropriate than I intended.
Let me start out this dumb little diatribe by saying that I’m not a very good guitar player. Honestly, I’m barely even proficient. At best, I’m a crappy punk rock guitarist who’s lucked out and been privy to playing with amazing musicians over the years.
Then again, the term “guitarist” alludes to knowing the rudimentary functions of an electric guitar, of which I do possess a very limited knowledge.
The most hilarious part of this scenario was that I actually had to track my guitar down. What kind of musician loses his guitar? The poor thing was hiding in my spare bedroom, probably hoping I wasn’t going to take him out of retirement. And no, I don’t do drugs.
Goblin Studios is a quaint little coagulation of carpeted rooms in Vista that burned down a few years ago, only to re-emerge Phoenix-like with scorched guitars bolted to the wall to show off a little bit of street cred.
I had a quick thought about what to wear to the studio. Silly? Yes, absolutely … but I didn’t want to show up looking like a smooshbag and I also didn’t want it to look like I was trying too hard to be a “guy in band.” But since when did I ever care what I wore to the studio to practice? Years ago, I remember wearing combat boots and board shorts and didn’t think twice about it.
And escorting my guitar amplifier around didn’t get any easier. My back hurt, I dropped it on my toe at one point, and almost tipped the entire thing over in front of a group of people standing outside of the studio. This was not going well.
As we started playing, I suddenly remembered that I’d be standing stationary, without much of a break or anywhere to sit down, for a few hours at a time. Soon into the first hour my ankles, knees and back began to ache. I had to sadly remind myself that we were barely into the second hour and planned on playing for five.
I am embarrassed to admit that while everyone else was sipping beer and smoking cigarettes on our break, I actually went to my car and took four Ibruprofen. Pretty punk rock huh?
This was only my first attempt at destroying people’s eardrums again. Stay tuned, I’ll keep you updated about my MLPRE (mid-life punk rock experiment).
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries