6 Strings, 6 woes (or even more)

Being a guitar player has its own attached fixes and woes, much as any other instrument would have.  Here are 6 of those woes:

WOE 1: ROCK AND ROLL! ROCKSTAR! ROCKER!

At an age where the electric guitar is associated with THE rockstar - complete with coolness factor reaching to 100, it is further implied that once spotted slinging a guitar case, you definitely must be able to play the latest 4 chord pop junk on your amp's drive channel, and play it with so much conviction and so less in tune.

When asked of the things you play or are learning to, you answer something like the blues, some scales,  hybird picking, etc. - and is retorted with:

"How about <insert latest FM hit/ soap opera soundtrack here>?"

What do you mean 'You haven't heard of that song?!' Dude, that's got to be the best thing that happened since triple decker cheeseburgers!"

WOE 2: How come you don't play that solo note for note?

Though I will never on the same plane, Charlie Parker was the guy who was referred to as "someone who never played the same solo twice", Miles never wanted to play what he played yesterday, and Don Cherry always approached his horn as if it was his first time to pick the instrument up.

Some instances require note for note accuracy: pre written/arranged lines from the catalogue of Vai, Satch, Petrucci, and the likes, a woodshedding exercise, or a tribute band project  (How much liberty can you take from Steve Howe's guitar parts for YES?). Yet in the arena of improvisation, the dueling notes and unrehearsed strikes and parries shine bright - and all your guitar heroes love that dangerous engagement.

Sadly, for the TAB generation, the numbers printed are written in stone. A pharisaic view of this wonderful art of string bending has been reduced into something akin to a financial audit, which subjects every screw, picking angle, guitar face and stance into scrutiny.

"that sounds different from the album version. Betcha' can't play that. You suck."

WOE 3: YOU ARE TOO...

Loud. Soft. Heavily gained. Clean. Frilly. Flashy. Economic. Handsome. Young. Old.

This one's a no-brainer. 

Humans in general will always have something to gripe about .That includes your guitar playing.

WOE 4: THE GUITAR GEEK ATTRACTION FACTOR

Okay. In as much as I love guitar and things guitar, I do not live on it - I live on an astronomical dose of God's grace, including oxygen, food, sunlight, water. 

Every now and then, you run into people (usually on gatherings and Christenings and weddings, oh bless them) who, start to talk about humbuckers and Floyd Roses and screws and who-knows-what at the very first instance.  They expect you to know all about the recent effects box on the market, rant on for hours on how indispensable  the toy is, and ask your opinion on it , no matter what amount of clarification you make regarding your ignorance of the existence of such a product.  Or make that sheer disinterest.

Please, I would be fine with bread and pasta , I think I'll skip that set of gauge .11 GHS Strings for dessert.

 

WOE 5: I HATE ME

I still wake up with mornings realizing:

I can have an EVH Fender Wolfgang, Neil Zaza's pedal board, Vai's Digitech Presets, Brian May's curly locks (and cable),  David Martone's fingerpicks, and I will still sound like me, and I hate it.

Or that means I Hate me, to be exact. 

Looking over the brighter side of things, even Eric Clapton can give a limb or two, but he will never sound like you. Because, simply he is Eric, and you are you. Eric has a voice, you have yours too, and as sure as rain, I have mine too.

But then again - you will never, EVER, EVER, EVER, EVER sound like him. Ha ha! Haaaaa!

WOE 6: THE DREADED VIDEOKE NIGHTS

So you are a guitar player.

You get together with friends, who for one reason - equate guitar playing with being part of a band of any type - and follow that link to come up with a very unreasonable conclusion that this night will be your show. They hand you the mic, and expect you to do the mic like you would the guitar.

Before you can find the off switch (there is none, actually) you have mixed songs on your instant "setlist" lined up, courtesy of your friends : ballads from Journey and Europe, Silverchair, Eraserheads, Spongecola, Barry Manilow, Ricky Martin and, dig this - novelty, cheesy songs just for novelty's sake. Bon Jovi's 'It's My Life ' rumbles: the verse passes by with no other sound but the thudding mic laid on the table, enhanced by the echo.

Thud, thud, thud, thud. I find myself in the restroom .

They expect you to know the songs, tread the range from rap to soaring metal ballad because, yeah - you are in a band playing guitar.

Very, very logical. 

Read with me: VOCAL CORDS, GUITAR CHORDS. These are entirely different entities.VOCAL CORDS, GUITAR CHORDS, VOCAL CORDS, GUITAR CHORDS...

photo by Joby Tanjuatco

Go Ahead, Indulge 3: Rahsaan Roland Kirk

 

Pushing the envelope is a big understatement.

Put together a pennywhistle, a noseflute, another flute, alto, tenor and  soprano saxophones - everything but the kitchen sink - in two very able hands, powerful lungs, a mouth, a nose and a healthy dose of imagination and a highly passionate brain  - you get moving, in-your-face music - you get Rahsaan Roland Kirk.

And less two eyes. Kirk was blind.


Strong proof that absence of sight does not necessarily imply absence of vision, though. 

He had a strong vision of what the music was, and where its headed. More than simply being a multi-instrumentalist and playing one instrument after the outher, he plays them simultaneously. He was the band leader, with a resume as a sideman for Charles Mingus, Quincy Jones, and Roy Haynes.


Another case of extremely beautiful music from an extremely inspiring soul.

Tiano on Tiano

What's better than coming up with a solo project, 
doing everything from the groundwork up and 
cap it with a self serving writeup? Ha!

ON WHY WASTE DISK SPACE FOR AN ALBUM, WHERE EXACTLY IS THAT CATHEDRAL, WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE THE STEPS FOR SOLAR DANCING, WHY HIS GUITAR PLAYING IS THE ULTIMATE RIP-OFF AND WHY HE WON'T TRADE PLACES WITH BONO - ALL IN 150 WORDS OR MORE

DIY has come of age. After a long time, I have mustered enough gall to finish the eight track debut, INNER CATHEDRALS - a job I enjoyed doing and enjoyed putting of for a while.  While listening to it, I would be best to keep in mind that the album is still a demo album, and isn't written in ink. When an opportunity comes, I would definitely love to do the whole album again with a live band.  Some may wonder how come I never did the originals with Nancy Brew, it is simply because I wouldn't want three very unhappy people working with me this time , as Steve Howe would say. You see, the little dictator me rears its ugly head (and mustache) once in a while. 

A loose concept ties the materials for Inner cathedrals, which is about life as long travel in pursuit of something that fulfills, commonly depicted in forms of space journeys and discoveries.  I have been fascinated with space travel at the time, and still am at an extent. I'm no NASA/ MITT enthusiast, but have learned enough to love and awe things on dark matters, quasars, and neutrinos.  'Inner Cathedrals' would ascribe to the inner sanctuary we find when we find peace with our Creator through grace in the cross, and that worship goes beyond the physical cathedrals we erect.

Orbits (Green remix) is a clean toned foray into a funky old school fusion/ smooth jazz, and I enjoyed laying down the keyboard tracks (clavinet comp and faux-B3 solo) on this one.  The melody may remind some of a short reference to a line from Manhattan Skyline (which was also quoted by Santana on one of his jams).

Planet Phulla' Phunk is a groovy track which started as a sound clip demo uploaded at www.philmusic.com's Soundclick Thread.  Originally titled as  'Leave it That way', the 1:32 track was shelved for a time until revisited during all Soul's day of 2010. Thank God for holidays, indeed.  The main head is inspired by Satch's phrasing and the solos are divided into two parts:  the first one aims for the short intricate statements of Scofield while the next pays homage to the Satch/Vai whammy bar phrasing.  As the track progressed, the arrangement veered into a slightly different direction, more towards Greg Howe-y fusion.

Venus in Blue is an interesting cut culled from a million influences. Its another keyboard solo that I loved doing, as I was trying hard to draw from Joe Zawinul. The whole vibe was later fusion Miles, and the dom7th chord vamp from Stern (Mike). An old friend and batchmate (Richie Remo ) and I used to jam over this riff.  The guitar solos are another story.  In the middle of the sessions, the Zoom 707 (So that's why the tone sucks! - tone police department) broke down and I had to finish tracking with the old trusty Korg A4. I thought I wanted to sound like Jeff Beck, or Scott Henderson but found that impossible - I ended up sounding like, unfortunately, me.  The drum outro is definitely ho-hum, and this track reeks of demo like quality and horrible tone.  I just decide to let it remain as is though,  and had to release it before I get OC over the track again for the umpteenth time.

Inner Cathedrals, 9 and An Alien's Sojourn are the album's slower tracks and were a breeze to do.  9,  touches into the romantic and lyrical side of guitar playing and is actually the second edit. An earlier version was edited into the recent one with a more focused and concise arrangement. The first melody part was recorded using a borrowed Ibanez nylon-string (Thanks to Joel Bayona). The second head and outro solos, drum tracks and rhythm sections were re-recorded. Inner Cathedrals was originally titled Home, and the ethereal feel was greatly influenced by Pat Metheny's and The Yellowjackets' landscapes. I was pushing for a 'less is more' type of playing, a slightly snarling tone and the fretless solo was done real time on the keyboards.  An Alien's Sojourn still comes from the old school fusion vibe and was a challenging track as far as parts and arrangements were concerned. Highlighting three instruments is a very indulging thought - yet indulge I did.  The three tracks are homage to my other heroes, George Benson, Earl Klugh, Dave Spinozza and Paul Jackson Jr.

The Solar Dance is a one chord ditty rock instrumental over another groovy bed. Oddly, the intro riff which modulates a half step is inspired not by notes, but by dance steps.  One evening in a youth camp I was watching two young people dancing goofy with each other face to face, imitating each other's moves. From a far, I was imagining what music they were dancing to, hence, the wah intro riff.

The last track (and also the last one written) was The Walk.  The track started with a chord progression done on tremoloed guitars and was intended to be a bare bones blues. Yet something progressed as the whole sequence fit squarely in a half tempo rock groove. At that time, I was heavily listening to Michael Lee Firkins, and I suspect that I was sublimely aiming for the phrasing and the imitated-slide-effect via the whammy bar. Pastorius' The Chicken is quoted and  punctuates the end of the piano solo for fun.

Instrumentals paint different pictures to different people, as opposed to having  lyrics . There's less guilt in explaining the stories behind the tracks, a much lesser crime than the time Bono explained (ugh!) some of U2 lyrics. But as to ripping off and generously stealing other people's styles - guilty on eight counts, your honor.

Pencils up, finished or not. Those caught writing at this time will be shot dead. Now pass your papers to the front.

Tiano BM

CLICK TO DOWNLOAD THE ALBUM FOR FREE (album is in compressed .rar format)

That, was great, er...am...what's the name again? Oh.

On and on, the big machine called life turns its cogs, and who knows who you’ll rub gears with at the time? There are no guarantees you’d meet the same gear in the next season of revolutions. Yep, the one you argued with, fought with, threw curses at, cursed, cursed you in return, called you names, thanked you, praised you, loved you, hated you, borrowed your pants, loaned you, paid in half, paid in full, never paid, drove you mad, broke your nose- which makes us think, if we are to be remembered how would we want it to be?

The point is not the pursuit towards positive self image, but in making every conversation count, every contact and relationship true. When we are dragged anytime at any tribunal, we answer confidently – Yeah, I reached out, I was true, I was genuinely interested with your story (for the 131^st time) , your joys, your pains. You were not a mere number when I shook your hands, you are – what’s your name again?

Some discovery, this is.

Yeah.

Spend time and energy with relationships.

Its best spent with living entities.

There is a glaring lack when, we may have perfected the cure for the common cold, or nailed Mozart, that dance floor flare, Quirino’s winning piece, only to find out there is no one to share it with except with the familiar face in the mirror.

I have rehearsed this a couple of times MYSELF ,  and using MY skills and perseverance, finally accomplished it. I,  would like to share this act to MYSELF, and I hope I like it. 

Downright silly.

Please don’t rush next time you shake hands. Those hands may be the pair that may give your next meal in the decent future. 

Just as we face our Creator in our inner cathedrals, take time to gaze in the absolute beauty that is a Person – the face that comes as either judge or savior. It’s a personal knowing we are called to by a very personal God, as He is not just some remote cosmic booming voice in 5.1 surround.

Tiano's THE SOLAR DANCE

 

Loooooooong overdue, this DIY video was finally finished after battling a grueling relapse, overwhelming schedules and who-knows-what.

All video clips were captured via my trusty laptop (which survived, after falling twice), was edited, emailed and uploaded using the same - even promoted using the same black chunk of technology.

Hooray for the laptop! 

(The Solar Dance is a track from my solo album INNER CATHEDRALS, soon for free download)

IN A SILENT WAY - Loudly, that is

The sound starts with a little crackle, some pops and hissing.
This is pre digital era, and the sound comes
from the LP of the prince of darkness himself.

It is Miles Davis’ IN A SILENT WAY. John McLaughlin’s guitar carries the initial melody and Herbie Hancock brings a phased-stoned fender Rhodes into a boil.  Mr. Davis horn comes, not with all out attack but with a soft spoken statement.  Let that not deceive the listener, though.  Miles’ silence may mean different from the man behind the horn.

It brings me back the first time I listened to the Josef Zawinul (July 7, 1932 – September 11, 2007) original
(the version posted in this account’s Rock Jazz tracks) version. I always had a scene in mind as I hear the track.
The piece haunts. It probes my then young mind  -

I can see someone (I’ll call him Daggett) who, now near midnight, went to a place not that far away from home. Perhaps atop a cliff, and while the rest of the mere mortals cavort in dreamland, Daggett meets face to face with the Dream giver Himself. Or is in a state where dreams are indeed made. More like the biblical transfiguration, a bit enigmatic, a bit fuzzy, but totally overwhelming experience. Like Moses in the 
presence of the Almighty. Or an alien abduction.

Time stands to a still and suddenly, Daggett finds himself alone. He goes down to catch a few hours of sleep before dear Mr. Sun smiles the twilight away. Morning comes. Nobody believes Daggett, or the encounter he had. And after a week of trying to tell everyone what he went through, he retires the experience to himself, 
in silence.

Poor Daggett.

As the track rolls on, IN A SILENT WAY has triggered me into thinking how golden silence is indeed. Mr. Davis has stood by it - five billion notes were pouring from the bebop university, he retorts with short musical statements, spurts, and ambiguous phrases which left marks and dents as potent as any Marshall Stack could have.

29 years later, I still get the same feeling listening to IN A SILENT WAY.

Things have changed a lot since, but now it has come to me that not every form of silence should be equated with bliss and peace. SILENCE from Mr. Davis may have been a defiant move amidst the barrage of the bebop movement, yet as you look in the album sleeve, Miles gazes upward – he sees something we can not. And to stare at nothing is to stare at everything. Vis-à-vis the classic marketing adage “When everything is emphasized, nothing is emphasized”, it begins to make sense.

To hear nothing leads you to hear everything.

To hear silence teaches us to listen closely for everything.
At 33, you understand that Silence never meant nonexistence in the first place. Growing up with a creative soul for a father (musician/artist whom I love dearly and owe a lot with), it’s amazing to live with someone who can go on with life with just speaking three sentences a day.
No more, no less. It must have been the ganja,
or the harmonies he alone can hear within.

In these darkest of times, silence can speak of death. Beneath the sealed coffin is silence so black - incapable of sensing, eternally deaf and mute, unable to communicate. That’s why it makes sense to communicate as long as there’s breath, and as long as there is a living recipient of the message.  The dead don’t talk back, more so react. I don’t see the point of eulogies - where tears roll down and words of praises are generously served to a stiff cadaver. Apologies for the coldness of the words, yet in eternity, our words have no bearing – where only the Living Word can bridge the great divide. Had these words were given when the recipient was capable of response, a lot could have gone a long way.

It could have lifted up a broken spirit, cheered a dying heart or creased a smile to a stolid countenance.

Worse, Silence may be playing dead – like your old dog lying down with tongue out, as you say “Play dead, Skip”. And what we just don’t know is, when the torpor ceases, WHO – or WHAT will wake up: a smiling kid or a behemoth on the loose. More like the silence before the storm, the lull before the next eruption. If done deliberately, such silence becomes the herald of death – like your average battlefield ambush.

 Just as the line “It’s too silent in the trenches” is spoken, the enemy appears in throngs.

Mr. Zawinul and Mr. Davis may not have purposed the above morbid impressions, but again, when nothing is said, a million things may be deduced.

Sometimes silence isn’t always golden.
 

The SILENT WAY is not the only way.

Nothing comes worse than getting dead silence after an hour's presentation
in a meeting - and getting a million feedback from people who were not even present - the following day.

And then, Faith comes by hearing and hearing, the word of God.

Could the Father have chosen the silent way, and withheld the Word (logos - which was made flesh), we’d all be doomed to damnation and into an eternity forgotten in silence.

In Pace Requiscat. Much thanks to Josef Zawinul and Miles Davis.




(Originally written in 2008 by Tiano BM)