Vamping on the Boom

Or maybe it's NOT vamping on the boom. I dunno...

I'm starting to think that being involved in music, or perhaps just Bluegrass Music, requires learning a new language. Each word viewed by itself is understandable, but some of the sentence combinations are indecipherable. To me, at least. I have the feeling that you're all speaking in a fashion that feels totally comfortable and I'm on the fringe.

Michael and I drove up to Fredericton last night to visit my father, Ken, as he in the hospital for a couple days. (Doing much better now, by the way.) A couple days ago I had tried to view the Bluegrass site and was not able to enter the blogs, but could see the title of Michael's latest one on the Bluegrass Friends site page. I emailed him, asking "What's a hag?" The explanation started as we were pulling out of our driveway, paused as we stopped for gas at the ESSO in Grand-Bay (the gas is a whole penny cheaper there!!) and resumed until we parked at the DECH. Was it Peppermint Pattie or Lucy that used to say "All I hear when you talk is Wah, Wah, Wah"? I would like to make an addition to that: After a wah, wah, while, during bluegrass related discussions, all I hear is Wah, Wah, Wah.

I referred once during the discussion to my glossary of terms for all things Bluegrass for a definition. Seems rather simple to me: does it have a banjo? do any women die in any of the songs? does Bob Dylan sing? If you are interested in reviewing the glossary, which only represent my opinion, please visit: http://bluegrasswidow.blogspot.com/2007/07/glossary-of-terms-bluegrass.html.

After sifting through the mire of bluegrass wah wah wah, I came to this conclusion: Michael isn't saying it's not good music; he's only saying that in his opinion, it isn’t able to be categorized with bluegrass music. Thank God we all have the opportunity to voice an opinion. Some of us do take up rather a lot of real estate in expressing it, to be certain.
Remember, take what you like and leave the rest for someone else.

Opinions in some cases provide clarity; in others, not so much. For instance, I find the vamping / boom thing to be rather confusing at this point, and I'm also confused about other things, such as why we couldn't just buy an electric bass, as it would be far less intrusive in the living room.

[Insert big smile here] I think everyone should have a blog. It's a wonderful opportunity to express oneself and if the person reading it is thinking wah, wah, wah, they can just make it go away. Poof !!

While reading this bit of brilliance that Aesop wrote, Michael came to mind: “It is easy to be brave from a safe distance.” Some of us have lots of say, but when it comes to putting our name on what we say, the anonymous road is taken. There is no lack in integrity in you, Michael. I’m proud of you.

Have a happy day…
Helen

My dear Mother used to say...

My dear Mother used to say...

“If you can't be kind, be vague.”

Bass Lesson # 2 included watching a really enthusiastic woman named Murphy accompanying a less enthusiastic man named Marshall on the bass. No, I said that wrong. Murphy was on the guitar; Marshall was on the bass.

I found Murphy to be extremely entertaining in her enthusiasm. Had she been delivering a baby I’m sure she would not have put more energy, vigor, and liveliness into her presence. Instead of screaming “G” into the camera, she would have screamed “PUSH !!” It’s clear that Murphy is of the belief that whatever you’re doing, do it as well as you can. I think that’s an awesome attitude.

The song Polly Wolly Doodle has become dear to me. Finally I understand what Michael talks about when he says he can't sleep for a tune being stuck in his head. I wish it were a different tune, but I guess it will do. One thing I find confusing is the boom-a-chucka concept. Or is it boom-a-chicka. Well, whatever. I’m supposed to play only on the boom and not on the chicka or the chucka. Somehow I’m supposed to keep that straight while getting my ding to line up with the tick. How about this: Boom Ding Tick-a-Chicka? That has quite a beat. I think I like it. Ok, enough about music. The more I write the more you know how little I know. And I already knew it, so now we’re all up to speed.

I’m taking a poll on how the men feel about Valentine’s Day. Is it:

1. A necessary evil?
2. A way to earn points?
3. To be avoided regardless of the points loss or hard feelings?
4. A beautiful opportunity to tell the one you love just how much?
   

I’ll let you all know how mine went. Yes, dear, that can be considered a threat.

I think I need a vacation. A couple people at work have come back recently from cruises…I’m not much into sitting in the sun, drinking copiously, or eating randomly and in huge quantities, but still, a cruise sounds good. One guy mentioned all the shops in one of the ports that sell diamonds for next to nothing. Have I ever mentioned that I like shiny stuff? And Valentine’s Day IS coming….hmmmmm….one of these days I’m going to get a hubcap if I’m not careful. But going away, or at least being away does sound very appealing. Must give that thought some more consideration.

Remember, willingness without action is fantasy.

Have a marvelous day!
Helen

Done Before I Started…

Regarding the title of the last blog “Two Scoops of Raisins”…if you feel the need to understand what that means, ask Clay or Michael. I have no clue, even though it’s been explained to me three times. I was sitting in the room when they did it, and I totally missed the joke. Anyway, it all sounds the same to me.

I want to say again how much I enjoyed my weekend with Ed and Becky. It was a lot of fun, in spite of the noise.

Well, I had my first bass lesson last night. I dislike reporting that by my estimation, it didn’t go well. The more Michael talked, the more I got confused. There is only one thing I’m sure of at this point – I had the sense that I didn’t know anything about music; now I’m 100% certain of it.

We took the bass into the office and locked the door. The door wasn’t locked for the normal reasons, but just on the off chance that someone opened the door it would cause damage. We spent 15 minutes adjusting the bottom thingy to get the height right for me – Michael is in denial that I am as tall as he is, and he insisted that the height needed to be adjusted for me. In the end, it’s back where it started.

Next, I had a revisit of learning the alphabet. Along with learning about chords A through G…actually, I remember something about E A D G, and I’m to come up with an acronym to help me remember them. I don’t know if A through G are the chords, or what they’re called. Then Michael proceeded to tell me that all stringed instruments have frets to help us determine where we are supposed to be and he demonstrated this on his Huber banjo, but then told me that the bass does not have frets and that I would have to guess. So, right off the go I’m in trouble.

We spent a considerable amount of time on the alphabet. Michael insisted that I would need to know it. All I kept thinking of is when I was a little girl my father would say “A B C the goldfish?” and I was supposed to reply “L M N O goldfish”, to which he would respond “ O S M R - C M P N”. This still cracks me up, by the way.

In the midst of the alphabet lesson a miracle occurred – the phone rang. I answered “Thank you for rescuing me!” The person on the other end, a stranger, was rather surprised and said that I must have been expecting a call from someone else. “Not at all” I replied, “Just really happy that someone called right now – it didn’t much matter who it was”. Unfortunately, the call ended and the lesson resumed.

By now I’m drawing lines on paper and putting letters across the lines and then numbering the letters 1 through 7. The point of this, I gather, is that when someone in a jam says "we’re in G”, I’m supposed to know that I’m to play a G string and then the D and back and forth. I think. I wouldn’t want to swear to that.

Next we got out the metronome so that I could get my timing polished up. Up to this point, I have not touched the bass other than the height check. I am feeling pretty discouraged as the lesson seems to be going not great. Usually through the course of a lesson we get clarity, but I was getting further away from clarity. The metronome was going TICK and I was supposed to DING at the same time, but my ding didn’t line up with it’s click only but a couple times…Michael kept saying ‘you’re off…you’re off’…you’re ahead of it…you’re off’. I would like to point out that you knew I had no sense of rhythm when we got married and it would seem that this has not improved at all in these years. So yes, I’m off.

Lemme see…I don’t know what the chords are supposed to sound like, I can't tell one from another when someone else is playing them, the alphabet stuff is as confusing as heck, there are no frets to guide me (a fact that I find fretful – I had to put that in here), my ding can't line up with the tick, the teaching videos put me right to sleep, and I’m fearful that I’m not going to be able to fake my way through this thing, plus the whole experience made my neck and right arm ache and apparently I had my thumb wrapped around the neck in the wrong fashion. Whatever. I’m very much aware of my shortcomings in this area.

On the positive…hmmmm….I did spend some time with Michael while we had the lesson, so that was nice. I found Michael’s explanation of the nut to be highly entertaining…the nut talking about the nut… " I absolutely mastered G D G D G D G D, D A D A D A D A, G D G D G D G D. Next, Cluck Old Hen. Move over, Barry Bales.

At the beginning of the lesson I was looking at the comments to Michael’s latest blog – a gentleman named Jack wrote something about the music all sounding the same…I hear you, Jack. After giving this some thought though, I have the feeling that Jack was taking a poke at me…I bet you don’t think it all sounds the same do you, Jack? Oh, and by the way, Michael said he was only able to practice for three hours because I was out – don’t you believe that horse poop. He can practice as much as he wants when I’m home, as soon as he’s done his chores.

This is the most I’ve written about music. It’s going to take me a while to recover from this experience.

Have a happy and blessed day.
Helen

Two Scoops of Raisins...

Michael and I had the very great privilege of being guests recently at Ed and Becky B’s home somewhere north of here. I’m just about sure I wouldn’t be able to find it again by myself. We had a lovely time; I enjoyed myself very much. Thanks so much Ed and Becky. Your hospitality is outstanding.

I learned some new things over the course of a trip across the border with Becky, and then later that night when a friend dropped in to visit. Becky needed milk so we made our way into a store in Maine (the closest stop) and this store, along with selling beef jerky treats, milk and other necessities, sells live bait and “eau du varmint”. I refused to look in the live bait tub (like, ewwwwwww) but I found the gonna-catch-me-a-varmint spray rather intriguing. The cans, labeled such as BearBomb, MooseBomb, and BeaverBomb, at $9.99 USD are an absolute steal. According to the can instructions, I’m to spray the moose love potion, which the can assures me smells like a cow in heat, into the air but downwind (huh?), scurry up my tree and wait with anticipation for my catch to come stomping through the woods looking for the amorous female. This, I think, is an absolutely shocking way to catch a poor defenseless animal.

You can check it out for yourself at http://www.buckbomb.com/ I found a very entertaining website featuring Mission Impossible type music, and videos of a man dressed in full camouflage gear spraying everything in sight, including the bottom of his boots with the buck bomb spray. Imagine my anticipation as he climbed the tree in the video to await his prey – I was really hoping he would fall out of the tree, but alas, he did not. I can’t for the life of my figure why anyone would want to shoot something with big brown eyes. The Bluegrass Widow has brown eyes, but that has no bearing on my opinion. The online store features the full range of scent products, including Hog Bomb, with my favourite – Hog Peanut Butter. The clothing line looks a little … brown, but, to each his own.

The unnamed friend, who appeared at Ed and Becky’s home later that evening in full camouflage attire, assured me that this tactic was clever of us humans. I could tell he uses the Bomb products as often as he can, not paying attention to the legalities. Details !! Anyway, this person did not find the fact that I found this type of lure hilarious to be funny in the slightest – serious business, this varmint capture. Anyway, go in peace, man, and don’t forget, stand downwind or you could be in for the shock of your life.

All in all, my visit to Ed and Becky’s was educational, relaxing, peaceful and very much enjoyable. I had a great time. Thanks so much!!

I find it alarming that Michael keeps asking me for the password to my blog. I can't imagine what he plans to unload there – how much worse can the pictures get though; you’ve already seen my mouth covered with duct tape. There are no naked pictures out there of me, so I’m not concerned about that. Hey, maybe he wants to put a naked picture of himself out there…that could be interesting.

Some new definitions:
Jam:

Toe jam - sometimes also found in the belly button. This jam is not considered edible, unless you are desperate. I hope you’re never that desperate.

Jam - Also known as jelly or spread. This jam is edible and tastes good with toast, peanut butter, cookies, ice cream, and green beans. I really like this type of jam.

Jam - A group of musicians getting together to make music that they consider tasteful. Usually includes a few groupies that pretend it’s tasteful because they want the musicians to like them.

Bluegrass Jam - A group of musicians getting together to attempt to out do each other on the ear splitting noise that their instrument can emit. Also, there seems to be an unwritten rule: whoever can play the fastest, wins. There are groupies with this type of jam too. They tend to be hard of hearing, are extremely tolerant, and love the musicians. They would not be at the jam if they were not in love. Groupies that are connected with the banjo players are the most hard of hearing, the most tolerant, and the most in love.

More later. One last thing…don’t believe everything you think.