Jamming as an Idea = Nice / as a Word = Not Really

My friends and I took the liberty to jam after practicing for a set this Saturday. I must admit, there’s nothing quite as liberating as arbitrarily doing faux solos on the guitar. I imagine that it’s much like tossing and smashing light bulbs against a wall in fits of annoyance. I moved to keyboards due to the fact that I’m a frustrated guitar player. But tonight, things were different. I decided to be so bold. Picking up a friend’s guitar, I attempted to channel my heroes: Albert Hammond, Jr., Nick Valensi, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, and Matthew Bellamy to name a few.

Needless to say, I failed.

However, sifting through the riffs and scales of random genres was enriching. The bassist plays a line and the drummer pauses, thinks and hits the beat to it. Then I would pause, attempt to come up with licks or whatnot, then fire away (I’ve an infatuation for the DD-7). The point is that I got to witness how spontaneous music triggers what seems to be off the top of our musical heads, translating into what our limbs and fingers would do.

Lastly, I learned that I must again learn to play the songs I like. I’ve been out of this practice for the longest time. We did Nirvana, playing “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” instigated by my strumming. Though I virtually blabbered through the verses and strained my non-screamo vocal cords in the chorus (it was horrible), I had insane fun. The Beatles sound like a perfect start. Or The Velvet Underground. Or The Rolling Stones.

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