Playlist of the Week 6.23.12

1) Walking the Dog - Rufus Thomas

2) Got It Together - the Chuck Rainey Coalition

3) Them Changes - King Curtis

4) Funkify Your Life - the Meters

5) The Chicken - Jaco Pastorius

6) You Can't Hold No Groove - Victor Wooten

7)  Shotgun - Jr. Walker and the Allstars

8) Mercy, Mercy, Mercy - Victor Wooten and Steve Bailey

9) A Moment to Myself - Macy Gray

10) Voices Inside (Everything is Everything) -Donny Hathaway

Walking the Dog -Rufus Thomas and the Blues Brothers Band 

Got It Together -The Chuck Rainey Coalition

Them Changes - King Curtis

Funkify Your Life - the Funky Meters

The Chicken - Jaco Pastorius

You Can't Hold No Groove - Victor Wooten with J.D. Blair
with Victor's son Adam also on drums!

Shotgun- Jr. Walker and the Allstars
(James Jamerson on bass in the original studio recording)

Mercy, Mercy, Mercy - Victor Wooten and Steve Bailey (fretless bass)

A Moment to Myself - Macy Gray

Voices Inside (Everything is Everything) - Derek Trucks Band version

or the original by Donny Hathaway

A Moment to Myself: the Art of Listening, Pt. II

I've always been a visual learner, and visual arts have come much more easily to me than hobbies involving physical coordination, or....(shudder) math.
(Hello, music  and music theory!)

My day job as a landscape architect is - of necessity and definition - all about the visual.
I read spaces, I read the amounts of daylight and shadow a space gets, and after many years of doing the job, I have a knack for understanding how people will use a space and how they will physically move through it.

 And in day to day life, I like to think that I'm pretty good at reading other people too: assessing their visual cues and body language, and then combining that with what I hear them say.

So, to go through several exercises at Wooten Woods that involved taking away my sight, making me rely on other ways to navigate through space, making me rely on and trust what I heard, internally and externally....Well, that was something else entirely.

I don't want to give too much away about the specific exercises, but there were several that involved navigating through outdoor spaces while blindfolded, sometimes under time constraints, sometimes not. I got something different out of each of the three blindfold experiences, and the last ended up being one of the most interesting ones.

 After a couple of blindfold quests, you learn how to tune in to your other senses.  You listen a lot more closely to everything around you, from the sound of birds, to the rustle of a breeze in tree leaves, to the shuffling sounds of the other campers around you.  If you choose to go barefoot - a great option! - you learn how to feel the ground for clues, and you learn to navigate a bit better from the feel of sunlight or shadow on your skin.  You pick up external cues.

The bigger challenge was listening to my own instincts, and believing them!
During our last blindfold quest, we formed teams, and each team had to make their way, as individuals, across camp, and direct themselves toward the sound of  a specific instrument.  There were 5 or 6  instructors in the common space, each one playing a different instrument - all at the same time.


Everyone on my team had to make their way to the fretted bass.


Ok, sounds reasonably straightforward.
Unless you're still a novice bass player.
And there was another instructor playing a fretless bass at the same time.
In more or less the same area.

Oh, and we were being timed while doing the exercise.
And the campers who finish early get to watch everyone else do the exercise - so you know you have an audience if you're slow.

Now any bass aficionado will most likely scoff at my uncertainty, but there was an element of doubt.
And, to put it in context, I'd just spent several days listening to  world class musicians like Steve Bailey  play fretless basses.

But that's just it.
What if you'd never quite had to listen that way before?
What if you had to trust what you hear when so much of your daily life is based on what you see in front of you?

What if you had to listen, evaluate what you heard, and then trust your own impressions and instincts  to navigate to the 'right' goal?

I wrote earlier about listening, or not listening, to those critical inner voices.
Well, those inner voices that criticize can also guide and direct.
Sometimes it takes a real conversation with yourself to figure out which one is which.

Meanwhile the closer you get to your end point, your camp buddies decide to act like a bunch of crazed little brothers, and stampede in a big, noisy circle around you, just to see if it'll throw you off!  For a moment it was a little bit like being in the middle of a 90's mosh pit.
(It still cracks me up to remember it.  I absolutely adore all those bratty boy-punks.)

In the end, I went straight to the fretted bass.
(Big thanks to Matt Koons for making the fretted bass sound like a fretted bass!)

I was slower than my teammates, and I had to stop and listen a few times.

I did some internal coaching, and I had to actively decide to trust my instincts.

The pandemonium of the stampede rattled me for a moment, then I found the humor in it.
(It felt like smart assed, good-natured teasing, which was wonderful actually.)

 When I was uncertain, stopping and listening helped me correct my course, and I never did crash into anything on that particular adventure.


All in all, I'd say that's a damn good metaphor for navigating through life, wouldn't you?

Macy Gray's A Moment to Myself
I saw a rainbow earlier today

Lately those rainbow be comin' round like everyday
Deep in the struggle I have found the beauty of me
God is watchin and the devil finally let me be
Here in this moment to myself
I'm gonna vibe with no one else
There is a conversation I need to have with me
It's just a moment to myself


They're all looking at you, you're got everything to lose
Get up and dance girl, sing your tu-rah-loo-rah-loo
And quit bitchin bout how don't nobody really love you
Spread your rubber lovin and it bounces back to you
Here in this moment to myself
I'm gonna vibe with no one else
There is a conversation I need to have with me
It's just a moment to myself


Flowers are bloomin under gray skies and moons
Seems like I'm winnin every time I lose
And the answer I been looking for been here all this time
Spread your rubber lovin and it bounces back to you
Here in this moment to myself
I'm gonna vibe with no one else
There is a conversation I need to have with me
It's just a moment to myself

Voices Inside (Everything is Everything)

Have you ever noticed that when it comes to life lessons, sometimes once isn't enough?

Sometimes you have to revisit a couple variations on a theme before you can move ahead.

That may have some bearing on why I've been contemplating the art of listening lately.

Whether the source is internal - voices inside - or external, it can be tricky to determine who to listen to, and when to listen to them.  Often the challenge is to determine whether the inner voice is your intuition, or your inner critic - the guy/gal who often cuts you down, or fills you with fear and doubt.

Voices Inside (Everything is Everything): 

Props to the Donny Hathaway original, but I especially like this Derek Trucks Band version

Around the time I was in second or third grade, I took violin lessons for all of about 15 minutes. I have vague memories of learning that perennial favorite: Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  I dimly remember narrow little  masking tape stripes across the neck of the instrument to help guide me in finger positions.  I do know I really enjoyed the smell of the rosin, as well as the act of putting it on the bow.

And I remember with acute squeamishness, the horrific sounds I made (or so it seemed) as I went through the earliest stages of learning an instrument.  There really is nothing quite like a beautiful instrument like a violin being played very very badly by tiny little hands.

I know that I found it difficult at the time, and that I never got to the point of quite 'getting it'.  Since  I never quite felt comfortable with the violin, I think I internalized that and decided that if violin was hard, then music was hard, therefore I couldn't do it.  There were probably a couple botched and panicky violin recitals mixed in, too, just to solidify the idea.

The end result: for all of my adult life, I've always said - aloud and in the privacy of my own head - that I can't play music, I'm not musical, I don't have that kind of talent.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

One of the benefits and the joys of aging, whether gracefully or rebelliously, is that you can teach yourself to override that inner critic, the one who says that you can't, or that you won't be good enough.  Sometimes it takes big life events to shake things up, sometimes not.

In my case, a relative lost his battle with cancer right around the time that I was hitting my early forties and was flirting with my own midlife crisis. Suddenly time really did seem short and capricious, and the idea of taking chances was much more important than concepts like being 'good' or 'bad' at something. 

It doesn't have to take something so dramatic though; all you really need is to find the desire to try something new, whether it's music or something entirely different.

Change your way of thinking about yourself relative to your creative pursuit.

Become a student.

Find a teacher, or a couple of teachers.

And  remind yourself that as a student, you're not supposed to know it all, and do it all perfectly yet.

Allow yourself the luxury of making big, gorgeous mistakes along the way, because you'll learn as much from them as you will from getting it 'right'.

And then take the time to congratulate yourself for trying.

And tell that bitch of an inner critic to shut up!

 Once I blocked out the critical voice, I opened myself up to taking chances.

I'm working on learning how to learn - I'm finding ways to practice  that set me up for more success and more ways of feeling good about my practice sessions. 

Some days, it's nearly impossible to tap out the tempo with my foot and play at the same time.  It's taking a long time to learn scales, and to learn the notes on the fretboard.

But I'm making some slow and steady progress.

I like the good feeling I get when I learn to play a riff in tempo, or I learn a cool new technique like popping the strings.  And I'm learning to find the humor in the learning process too. The first time I was able to tap out the rhythm and come in on an upbeat, all I could think of was Steve Martin in "The Jerk".

I suspect that learning to play music is going to take me a little longer than some people, but that's ok.  I'm prepared to enjoy the journey as go.   

There are some wonderful guidelines to tapping in to creative thinking, here .

Rockin' the Open A

What if you had a moving, powerful experience....

And then had it mirrored back at you, from a little bit different perspective, just a few weeks later?

About a year and a half ago, I participated in the Atlanta branch of Ladies Rock Camp, which benefits Girls Rock Camp.  The idea is that a group of girls (or ladies in this case) form a band, learn the rudiments of playing an instrument, write an original song, and then perform it in a showcase that's open to family and friends.  The concept is the same for both camps, although the time frame for the ladies is condensed down to about 48 hours, instead of the 5 days that the girls have. 

That's right, roughly 48 hours to form a band from a group of strangers, learn at least a couple basic chords or drum beats,  be a creative enough and cohesive enough group to put together a your own song, practice your ass off, and then do it - with trepidation and with pride - on a stage, in a club full of people who love and support you.  It's a bumpy, nerve-wracking weekend, but what a rush when it all comes together.  Along the way, you secretly think that there's no way in hell your band will pull it off, no way.  

And then you do.  

And it feels GREAT.  

The year I participated, I played guitar.  

In fact, I'd only been taking lessons for about 6 months.  (Sound familiar?) During the final performance, I made some mistakes. In fact, several of us in my band had some slip ups.

And then I  got to wail on the strings with a steel slide at the end of the song.  

Not much in the way of technique, but oh. my. god.

Our semi-blues song went punk for a second, and my whole band just made wall of noise as our grand finale.  

Awesome.

After exhilaration like that, my mistakes didn't particularly matter.

So it shouldn't be a surprise that  a group of us ladies bonded during Rock Camp, and that a revolving group gets together from time to time.  There are a couple of ladies who are Keepers of the Flame; they organize and host a monthly jam, coyly called Monthly Cycle,  at  local community art center, Wonder Root . Sometimes we have more informal meetups inbetween.

At one of those informal jams, MJ came, with her bass in hand.  She's pretty new to bass, and is still learning notes. When the time came for us to work through a song together, she wasn't sure if she could follow the changes, so she decided to stay in her comfort zone; she thumped the open A string.

You know what?  

Nobody minded that she played an open string. 

She showed up, and she was an active part of the group.  

She tried, and I think she learned a few new things.
 She looked like she was having a great time.

What a treat, and a gift to see and experience that from the flip side.

You ROCK that open A, girl.

Puttin' a Dip in My Hip with Professor Bootsy

What if you could be You, but distilled down to your essence, then super sized, and turned up to 11?

And what if that turned-up-to-11 You was such a badass that you founded an online university so that people could essentially learn how to do what you do, and be more like you?

Sounds crazy?  Not if you're Bootsy Collins.

My parents listened to a lot of the current pop music of the 70's, so I grew up with some great music.  My dad was and is partial to jazz, and he's  always had a special fondness for bands with a great horn section like Chicago, and Blood, Sweat, and Tears.  So I did up with some music that had some zowie to it.

But what I don't recall having around the house is funk.

(I'm sure my sister will chime in if I'm wrong.  She has by far the better memory.)

So, as I've been going along on my bass journey, my teacher has been doling out songs with really clear, easy-to-pick-out bass lines.  So far, those have included some soul, reggae, Motown, and now funk songs. What a blast!

This week's project is  the classic "Mothership Connection" by Parliament Funkadelic,  helmed by George Clinton, with Bootsy Collins handling the low end. 

"Put a dip in your hip

a glide in your stride

and come on up to the Mothership"

And the more I hear and see Bootsy Collins, the more fascinated I become. Whatever else he is, when he's on stage, he's all Bootsy, turned up to 11.

It makes me wonder...If you could reinvent yourself, as You x 10, who would you be?

 

And the best news of all...

Did you know that you can actually matriculate at Funk University?

It's true. 

Bootsy himself has set up an online school of funk called, naturally, or Funk U.

Check it out.

Let Your Fingers Dance on the Strings

Hi.

I'm Jenn.

And I'm a bass player.

I'm also: 

a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a dog mom, a woman of 'a certain age', a landscape architect, a dreamer, a painter, a bohemian, a rule follower, an adventurer, a homebody, a geek, a reader,  a shy person and a show off.  

I've succeeded in some things, and failed in others. 
I've been lost, and I'm learning how to find my way.

I've been called quiet, and now I'm finding my Voice.

Some days I have a rock and roll heart. 

And some days I can't even begin to find the Groove.

But every now and then, the Groove finds me - if I'm open to it, and  I give it a chance.

One recent experience seems like a great jumping off point for the blog. 

It sorta started when my boyfriend-at-the-time would go on about this amazing bass player named Victor Wooten.  I'd heard Victor's name, and I'd even seen him perform a few years back when he came through town with Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, but I wasn't overly familiar with him. 

While still in the blissful stages of love, I sought out more information about some of my boyfriend's favorite things, including his musical inspirations.  I discovered that Victor Wooten held camps for bass players every summer, and that the camps also included courses in nature and outdoor skills.

Interesting.

Fast forward a bit. 

In the fall, after a frustrating year or so of guitar lessons, I switched to the electric bass - on a bit of a whim.  In January, the then-boyfriend had a...change of heart, and I became a solo act, so to speak.

Music lessons, and goofing around with my bass was both a solace for my broken heart,  and a much needed challenge.  And when I paid attention, pursuing that musical challenge kept leading me into new, positive and fascinating directions. 

So I kept listening...to my intuition, and to the new friends I was making through my bass.

And everyone kept saying the same thing.

"Go to Victor's camp.  It'll change your life."

So, in the middle of May, I found myself on the road to a little town on the far side of Nashville.

Middle aged, female, with a paltry six months or so of bass lessons, but an ocean full of enthusiasm, I wasn't the first image you'd conjure when thinking about a bass player. 

 And I was heading off to study with some of the best bass players in the world!  

It didn't take much time to discover that I was one of the very least experienced of the 60 or so campers.  So on the first full day of camp, during one of our class sessions, Victor Wooten asked if he could work with me that evening to demonstrate a technique geared towards beginners, at our meal time assembly.  I shakily agreed; adventure and new experiences were the whole point of going to camp, right?

When the time came,  I went up on stage with my big orange bass.  

Eric Struthers was filling in on guitar, and Victor's 11 year old son Adam, a professional musician in his own right, sat in on drums.  Anthony Wellington, another well -respected bass player was on the keyboard.  Several of our other camp instructors made up a horn section. Victor was acting as host and master of ceremonies.  A roomful of semi-strangers were looking up at me.  

It seemed completely surreal.

Victor told me to ignore the audience for the moment.

He pointed to one fret on one string, and told me to put together a simple rhythm with just one note, and to keep repeating the same pattern. Hands shaking with nerves, I plunked away.  And slowly, I settled into it, and started to relax by degrees.

  

Adam came in on the drums.  

Eric came in on the guitar. Anthony was doing his thing on the keys, and grinning at all of us.

I figured out how to watch Adam's foot for the bass drum beat, and we got a little tighter.   The horns started doing some sassy fills. 

It's a little hazy now, but at some point Victor and his daughters started to scat some lyrics on the fly.

Sometime in middle, I began to smile, and sway to the music.

  

 

When it was obvious that I was having fun with the simple rhythm, Victor coached me to "play around with it a little bit", and "let your fingers dance on the strings".

So I did.

And we sounded...good. 

And funky.  

And it was a complete blast.

Victor's point - I think - with that exercise, is that you don't have to lock yourself away until you're a great  musician to play music.  One of the big themes throughout the camp experience is that Music is a language and a conversation, and, just like a child learning to talk, you get better by practicing it with  other people, by jamming, and cutting loose. 

I'd add, in the bigger picture of Life, don't worry so much about being an expert.

When you have  folks you can trust watching your back, you can be free to experiment a little.

Find the groove, get in the pocket.

Let your fingers dance on the strings.

Amazing things just might happen when you take a chance.