I am learning to play guitar. I watched in awe one summer weekend as my friend Ken belted out Dave Matthews tunes at a beach house on Cape Cod. Ken is the ultimate music man – natural ability (self-taught) combined with a snobbery backed up by vast amounts of knowledge. To his credit, he tries not to flaunt it, which is nice for the lesser mortals around him. Ken uses his superpowers for the good of mankind.
I have no such lofty goals.
I want to learn guitar because I can’t fit a piano in my house. I actually own a piano. It’s a darn nice one. The funny thing about pianos is they tend toward being large, and there’s no way in hell it will fit up my front hall stairs. To be more precise, even if there was a slim chance it could, there are no movers on earth who possess the intelligence necessary to actually accomplish the task. So, my piano resides in Connecticut, and I need a musical outlet.
Buffalo has no masterworks chorus that I’ve been able to discover. So, my second choice is kaput also. By default, my choice is guitar. It’s lightweight, comparatively cheap, and fits nicely behind doors.
Obstacles to learning the guitar: full time job, new business, old house in need of repairs, two year old son, nine month old twins, church committees, good TV shows, the internet, lack of patience, dinner.
Considering the above, I’m not doing half badly. After two years, I can play, albeit slowly, a couple of Beatles tunes and some Irish drinking songs. At this rate, I’ll be banging out the Dave Matthews tunes as a fitting musical tribute when he retires.
