Author Topic: Music Composition, Instrumentality  (Read 368 times)

Spazmodic

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Music Composition, Instrumentality
« on: August 27, 2015, 04:07:17 PM »
When I was 14 (grunge era!) I started a punk band. At the time the only instruments I played were piano (feebly) and saxophone (had just started that, so played it feebly as well). In those days, piano was not a viable punk instrument, nor was sax. I went in wanting to be the vocalist. I got my best friend, who was excellent at guitar, and a classmate of our who was ... the owner of a drumkit ... to start making rock and roll, and it felt awesome. But we needed a bassist. So I worked my ass off doing extra chores (my mom saw my passion and was willing to fund it), and bought a marked-down Precision Bass and taught myself to play by ear, then I started playing it in our school's jazz band. It was a short jump to writing songs, and then my punk band needed a better recording setup than my old karaoke machine, so I got a 4-track tape recorder.

That opened up my world. I started recording songs like all the time, using my bass guitar run through various effects and an old casio keyboard (for rythms, etc). It was my most public method of pouring out my heart that I ever felt comfortable with.

I was in a band briefly in college as well, where I acted primarily as bass guitarist (we all know that guitarist/singer who just HAS to write all the songs...).

Ever since then, I've found a few people to jam with, but nothing has ever coalesced into an honest-to-god band, and really my lust for songwriting stopped feeling like it mattered after a certain girl in my life died. When I was in an almost-band after law school, we got one gig ... and my wife decided she would rather recline at home in front of the TV than to go. Needless to say, that stopped being a priority for me.

My wife doesn't really dig on my creations. I did write her a song once, but I have never caught her listening to it. I try to get her to read my short stories and she gets "distracted" less than halfway through and it never occurs to her to pick them up again. Maybe the stuff I make just isn't very good?