Sol's Scarlett Sol - A drop D I’d been working on until last night when my daughter heard me playing as she took her bath and asked me to bring the guitar into the bathroom. The joy from her asking me to play finished the song.

Commitment

 Heavy Levity readers, you may know I play a little guitar. 

Here's a recent sojourn into chord melody. 

I used AI (Gemini specifically) to explain the basics and took my guitar to my son's swim practice and kept at it until I came up with the diddy.

Fast forward a couple months and I'm looking for backing tracks to help with my swing feel - as if I have any swing feel at all - and google directs me to Smokin' At The Half Note - Wynton Kelly Trio with Wes Montgomery. 

Fair enough. But as I'm scanning the search return, I come across the factoid that Pat Matheny memorized the album and considers this the album that taught him how to play guitar. 

Commitment.

What have you committed to dear Heavy Levity reader? 

New Album Out! Wings Of Desire

There’s a scene in Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire where the angel Damiel is pining to be human, to have a body. He says,

“But sometimes I'm fed up with my spiritual existence. Instead of forever hovering above I'd like to feel a weight grow in me to end the infinity and to tie me to earth. I'd like, at each step, each gust of wind, to be able to say "Now!" Now and now and no longer "forever" and "for eternity." To sit at an empty place at a card table and be greeted, even by a nod.”

Upon seeing Wings of Desire, a weight grew in me. Because the movie greeted me, made me think. Now and now. What are you waiting for? Perfection is a myth. Play. Record. Do it again.

Along with Wenders, there is Jason Isbell. Weathervanes tied me to the earth. There was a hole inside me, and I filled it. Play. Record. Do it again.

There is a wonderful German word/idea that encapsulates Damiel and Isbell - Torschlusspanik, roughly, gate closing panic. The fear that time, and hence opportunities, are running out. It describes the sense of panic when you realize, one day, that you haven't done very much with your life, and that if you don't act soon then you may miss out on the remaining opportunities as time passes and the 'gate closes.


What are you waiting for? Perfection is a myth. Play. Record. Do it again.

credits

released February 16, 2024

Love Letters

I was listening to stuff on youtube today as I worked, and meandered onto this video of guitar phenom Josh Smith.

And while it is certainly a guitarist oriented video, it hit me, it is also a love letter. 

Listen to his language: "Changed my life...without question, ...proceed to have my life changed...in a second...I'd never heard anything like it...took my breath away...I learned every song, every solo..."

This is nothing short of a love letter.

Think of those early days when you were in love, you likely used similar language; after all the ethos of the video is What hooked you? 

What made you fall in love?

Back To Akron - Out Now!

 

The RiffRaff

shannon.gordon.scott · RiffRaff

Enjoy the guitar and vocals of yours truly. 

Running and Robert

My morning ten miler takes me past the Greenwich Odeum, in historic downtown East Greenwich. I've been there a few times in my stint in RI, mainly to see my ten year old perform in recitals, but also once to see my Father in-law's favorite: Dave Mason. It's a nice venue, good sight lines, good acoustics (to my untrained ears) and it's not too big and not too small. $10 a beer but what are you going to do.

Anyhoo on a run a couple weeks ago, I see a poster for Robert Cray Band! I've appreciated his playing since discovering his Strong Persuader album way back in my, ahem, probably teens or early twenties. So I quickly research tix and try to secure a sitter so my wife and I can go. Alas, the sitter didn't work out but my wife lovingly let me out of some parenting duties to attend.

The band was stellar. Robert's tone was so full and vibrant...very hard to describe...but from the first chord, the bass and volume filled the auditorium. I noticed that he derives a lot of his tone and "quack" from picking back near the bridge. Very strong player and incredibly limb independent if you will: he is able to play complex rhythm parts while singing. It doesn't make sense to this mortal - feels like he has to have two brains. I think my favorite phrasing was on Sittin' On Top Of The World, where he tastefully kept to the melody but veered off in interesting, bluesy ways. Superb. 

And my gawd his singing. Talk about soul and range. His falsetto on Phone Booth was worth the price of admission. Incredible.

Having listened to Strong Persuader earlier in the day, I was really hoping for Nothin' But A Woman and Smoking Gun but still enjoyed I Guess I Showed Her. What slayed my listening to Strong Persuader was how great the lyrics are. To me, pop music seems a much better vehicle for lyrical expression, whereas the blues (whatever this means) tends, for me anyway, to focus on instrumental expression. Counting Crows doesn't need a ripping guitar solo for me, because of the way the lyrics transport me. But check out these gems from Strong Persuader: 

I payed the clerk and moved right in

A single room with one big twin

There's a chest and mirror

Shower's down the hall

Room 16 ain't got no view

But the hot plate's brand new

[Chorus]

I guess I showed her

Maybe you want to end it

You've had your fill of my kind of fun

But you don't know how to tell me

And you know that I'm not that dumb

I put 2 and 1 together

And you know that's not an even sum

And I know just where to catch you with

That well known smokin' gun

Oh, she was right next door and I'm such a strong persuader

She was just another notch on my guitar

She's gonna lose the man that really loves her

In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts

And my fave:

You can give me an hour alone in a bank

Pay all my tickets, wipe the slate blank

You could buy me a car, fill up the tank

Tell me a boat full of lawyers just sank

But it ain't nothin' but a woman...

You can buy me a house, turn over the deed

Bring six pounds of California weed

But my weakness ain't drugs, whiskey, or greed

Only one thing that YOUNG BOB needs...

Just great stuff. So I want to thank the Odeum and The Robert Cray Band for adding to my life but also because after the show, I went home and, inspired, finished a song that had been rattling around up there too long. I'll post an acoustic version soon. Till then, enjoy Nothin But A Woman:

Just A Really Nice Moment

 I was driving the tots to their respective schools this morning -the 8 yr old goes early for gymnastics, and the 3 yr old can be dropped off at daycare at 8m -when they started singing a song from the recent Disney movie, Turning Red. Well I hopped on board and started singing and they started booing me which only made me sing louder...when George Benson's version of This Masquerade came on the radio. So I turned it up and sang along despite their protestations. 

And for some reason it was just great. The kidding with the kids and the great guitar and voice of Benson on that opening two chord vamp was...just great.

And while I usually hold myself in low regard, I started to think about when I first got into that song, probably around 1996. I remember renting a cassette from the School of Music library at Ohio University and trying to play from the sheet music. And while I'm no jazzer of any repute, I listened enough to be able to appreciate it, and dammit that oughta count for something.

Some Things...Have...Happened

Whoa.

Some things have happened dear readers.

For one birth has happened, for the third time.

Wait, what was the middle part again?

For two, birth happened in the form of Scarlett Sol.

Truth be told I wanted Sol from this George Carlin bit:

So I’m not getting a ton of sleep but it comes with the territory. Speaking of territories, what all came with the Gadsden purchase?

Did I mention we moved about two months before the birth?

We like to have all of our stressful life events at the same time. More efficient this way. I do the same with sit-ups. I do 1000 right in a row and I am good for the year.

Been reading some books on male friendship. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t exist.

Been trying to keep up with the running and 15 miles a week feels like 150 at this point. My legs were so dead after four miles yesterday we had a wake for them right there at the Y treadmill. I keep reminding myself like Dory in Finding Nemo: just keep running, just keep running. 

I know someday the tots will be able to dress, feed, and hygiene themselves and I’ll be able to ramp up the miles in lieu of friendships or guitar slinging.

You might like this guitar slinging but you might not. Either way, my hits on SoundCloud just went up. Sucker.

#3 Or Nummer Drei as the Germans Say

I’m about to be a father to my third child.

I know what you’re thinking – big whoop – a ton of dudes have three kids.

But ask yourself this: how many of those dudes had their first at the tender age of 41?

Yeah that is what I thought punchy.

Judge lest ye be judged – idiot!

JK.

To give some context to just how crazy this is, consider what I told my father-in-law who is in town for the birth and to help us with some home projects because, as I told him:

I lived in student housing for ten years and never had to mow a lawn or fix an appliance or anything like that so I never owned power tools; I spent all my money on guitar shit.

Now here I am with a house and kids and it doesn’t really help that I know the chords to Simple Man or how to play Auld Lang Syne fingerstyle.

What I could really use is some practical know-how (plus a volt meter) and some patience but you don’t’ exactly acquire these things naturally when you bachelor it up for twenty years catering to you and you alone. Why is it so hard to get out the door for school???

But, sometimes, my boys dig me (and my bad impressions of Bruce the shark from Nemo, or Christopher Walken or Al Pacino [“ranger choke hold Charlie!”] and they know I want to form a band with them named The Steaming Diapers so…

And maybe, just maybe, if I can keep it together as I prepare to lose a ton of sleep over the next 18 years, I might just live to buy some more guitar shit.

EVH

I am reading an Eddie Van Halen biography and upon re-learning (I think I read this back when I started learning guitar in the mid 80’s) that Eddie would often begin practicing as his brother Alex was heading out on a Friday night to party and upon his return home at 3am, Eddie would be in the same spot, guitar in lap. 

Now take this and relate it to the idea, proposed in the Birdman blog, that an artist needs to suffer in order to “qualify” as an artist. But here’s a rub to the “suffering” idea: Having read a ton of interviews of EVH over the years, I get the sense that he was so compelled to play, so compelled to learn, to get better, that he would not view missing out on parties and socializing as suffering at all. The suffering would have been going to the party and not being with the guitar.

I feel the rub is actually more hidden in this case. The artist suffering in EVH’s case is in human relationships. It is apparent in this biography that Eddie, admittedly, not only lacked social skills but knew that he lacked social skills. The social skills that most of us pick up and social mores we learn to navigate are often times lost on an artist that instead chooses to have a relationship with an instrument. Think about it, the guitar was never not there for him, hour after hour, day after day, month after month, and year after year. The bonding and facility happened with the guitar, not people.

How is one supposed to possibly learn complex, layered social skills and cues, when the bulk of time that is usually taken to master such things is spent on mastering the guitar and music? Compound this with the added ingredient of fame and the outlook isn’t good.

EVH suffered failed relationships, musical and otherwise, and a marriage while he continued to succeed as an artist.

So now I am left with a different question: not whether or not an artist must suffer to qualify as an artist, but if being an artist in this vein is worth it. 

Is it a forced dichotomy for artists? You can be with people or you can be with your art, but not both.

It Gets A Little Tight

Well folks, it has been a long semester and I don’t mind telling you that I am glad it’s over. Between the 2 hour commute each day, the daily grind, and the Tuesday night grind of the Intro to Psych, I am looking forward to a little r and r and some holiday respite. 

Now this is my first xmas where my son kind of gets Santa Claus and the concept of gifts so I am especially excited to see his face when we celebrate xmas. I can recall one magical xmas morning where the dining room at 1240 central was filled to the brim with gifts and frenetically thinking to myself “he came, he came!” Ah, the magic of youth and fat guys getting down small chimneys. Ah the magic of lube.

Speaking of lube, kidding. 

Now xmas is a bit of an ss for us as…

-huh? What’s that? Oh, ss means shit show.

We have to round up everything required for a family of four to take what is basically a 5 day vacation, schlep it all to Plymouth Meeting PA, unpack it all, sleep a night, pack it again, then schlep it all to Pittsburgh PA where my wife and our two children will reside in her childhood bedroom, replete with what is generously called a “full size” bed for my wife and I to “sleep” on and 2 pack and plays for the kiddos. Oh and let’s not forget about the huge amount of luggage, clothing, toiletries and what not that needs to reside in the what is generously called a 12x12 room already stuffed with 2 dressers, a bookshelf, and a desk. 

It gets a little tight.

I also get out of routine. Routine is very important to me. I also want for alone time during this hectic time. What is a guy to do?

Drink.

I compensate by drinking copious amounts of free alcohol, courtesy of the in-laws. Now don’t go and commit the fallacy of post hoc ergo propter hoc on me: I don’t drink because of the in-laws, I drink via the in-laws. There’s a difference.

Just kidding, I try to get out for a run when I can and will also try to delve into Thomas Pynchon’s Inherent Vice over the break. I enjoyed the Crying of Lot 49 and it will be nice not to be prepping for Psych for a little while. I don’t think I can take my guitar on the trip so I won’t be able to doodle on that but cross your fingers, maybe we can fit it in the Sante Fe. 

Do you have a can opener I can borrow? The Sante Fe gets a little tight.

Bach

So my toddler wanted to go downstairs and play with his "grabber" truck this morning. Whilst he was playing I took the opportunity to grab the acoustic and fiddle. I started playing Bouree by Bach (probably the only classical piece I play, poorly I might add) when my toddler stops playing with his truck, looks at me and says "what's that song papa?" I didn't think he was listening. So I started playing it again and he was watching my fingers. I smiled a grin from here to East Berlin.