…my first experiences of music were by way of the classical music records that my father played and the ’50s records that my brother played. Those, and the background of the BBC “Light Programme” as it was known back then, were the musical wallpaper of my childhood. There was also a little Puccini that my mother enjoyed and also some jabbering Gilbert and Sullivan. I have an retained an active distaste for the latter, although my heart now melts when I hear Puccini. My mother also had a penchant for listening to some of the more turgid and schmalzy records that oozed and dribbled through the “hit parade” (Mantovani, anyone?) so my brother’s Buddy Holly and Johnny Cash came as welcome relief. My father’s interest lay in the grand symphonies of Beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Sibelius, and it was this music that would ultimately have the deepest impact on me.

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Sometimes I look back wistfully and muse upon odd events that have defined the directions I would take in life. Apropos my music, one of the events that had a profound impact was a casual ten minutes with a friend back in 1971 when he showed me my first fingerpicking pattern. Here it is:

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…has never been a challenge for me. I think it’s because I’ve been doing it so long - since I was so uninhibited as a kid - that it’s a habit that’s simply been ingrained. I’ve never thought about how to go about the task. I did it before I thought about it. Like a very young child “learning” to swim.
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Oh, well. I’m reluctant to do it because it’s a great guitar. I’ve written about it here.

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Because my left arm doesn’t want to participate enthusiastically in the backswing. I think I have impingement of the shoulder, or some such. It’s not severe and doesn’t bother me overmuch but it does reduce my range of movement inhibit my golf swing.

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The two composers are sometimes cited as being at the opposite ends of a spectrum of sorts: one being prone to employing vast forces in order to perform gargantuan works; the other having a penchant for compression and modesty of utterance ultimately to the point of silence. I had a passion for the music of both before I ever read of this dichotomy. Nevertheless there is truth in it and it is well illustrated by the often quoted conversation they had with each other to the effect that Sibelius admired the symphony for the severity of form and the interconnectedness of the materials, whereas Mahler opined that the symphony should contain the whole world. Or some such.

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So opined a forumite’s family member recently after listening to How Well. It must be the nasally Scottish accent. No matter. No offence taken here. None at all.

Damn’ cheek!

        

I have heard and read short and long about the possible artistic and creative benefits of clinical depression (and other mental illnesses) may have for musicians. I have not heard or read of a musician celebrating his depression for those reasons, though!

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We’re in mid-April and there’s still not enough relative humidity in my studio where my guitars reside on their stands. So I keep filling the humidifier with water and it keeps belching out steam. It’s a labour of love.

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I had this affliction for a short spell. I actually only realised it’s existence, and that I was a sufferer, when I stumbled across the Unoffcial Martin Guitar Forum (UMGF) in 2003. This was shortly after I had “acquired” my Martin OOO-28 and became interested in its pedigree and in Martin guitars in general.

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