Everything went better than expected. We caught up first. It had been at least a couple of years since we had really caught up. Maybe more. He's going to Beijing for 10 months to teach English. And to find himself. I hope he does alright. I know he will, but it doesn't hurt to wish him the best.
"I had to sell my mandolin for a plane ticket." He said. We smiled. These things happen in real life, too.
We went upstairs and started setting up. "I don't play covers." I said. He tossed out a chord progression on the guitar. I listened for a moment and started piecing together a solo on top of it. We toyed around with the guitars for a little bit. Every once in a while something clicked. I could feel it. A spark. We paused.
"Alright," he said. "Go ahead."
I thought for a second. "Here we go." I started playing my progression. We messed around with it for a few minutes. Then he got on his set. "Plug in, let's do this." He said. "Alright." I said. And we jammed. We jammed and played and jammed some more and then Thomas stopped and said, "Hang on, I want to record this." It took a second for me to register it. I almost wasn't convinced that I hadn't been the one to suggest it.
Click.
A couple hours later we had laid down all the tracks to a song. We split the instruments between us. Done; in the bag. It was a good feeling. We recorded a song.
The best way to get over anxiety is to just do it. Your friends don't care if you screw something up, just as long as you're having a good time. If you're a musician and somebody tells you to play a song, you do it. Who cares what it sounds like? Sometimes you mesh with people and sometimes you don't. That's just how things go, I guess.
I can't even think of a decent moral of the story. I'm too excited about music and all of its infinite possibilities. I need to ditch my performance anxiety and start jamming more.
"I had to sell my mandolin for a plane ticket." He said. We smiled. These things happen in real life, too.
We went upstairs and started setting up. "I don't play covers." I said. He tossed out a chord progression on the guitar. I listened for a moment and started piecing together a solo on top of it. We toyed around with the guitars for a little bit. Every once in a while something clicked. I could feel it. A spark. We paused.
"Alright," he said. "Go ahead."
I thought for a second. "Here we go." I started playing my progression. We messed around with it for a few minutes. Then he got on his set. "Plug in, let's do this." He said. "Alright." I said. And we jammed. We jammed and played and jammed some more and then Thomas stopped and said, "Hang on, I want to record this." It took a second for me to register it. I almost wasn't convinced that I hadn't been the one to suggest it.
Click.
A couple hours later we had laid down all the tracks to a song. We split the instruments between us. Done; in the bag. It was a good feeling. We recorded a song.
The best way to get over anxiety is to just do it. Your friends don't care if you screw something up, just as long as you're having a good time. If you're a musician and somebody tells you to play a song, you do it. Who cares what it sounds like? Sometimes you mesh with people and sometimes you don't. That's just how things go, I guess.
I can't even think of a decent moral of the story. I'm too excited about music and all of its infinite possibilities. I need to ditch my performance anxiety and start jamming more.
Comments