October 25, 2003

Music As Therapy

In my music room, surrounded by speakers, Dreamland on the stereo, specifically Darkness, Darkness. My amp on, '68 Fender Strat over my shoulder, plugged in, pedals on. It sounds like a drag race. Like a race, you find a lane. You rev up a little bit then you start testing the limits, running fingers and pick up and down the fretboard, finding the right feel and the right sound, making the crude, then fine adjustments. And then you have it. You hold your breath and then plunge. Find the holes in the music where there is no sound, no solo, no melody and weave your own. Mind seemingly connected only to your two hands, you rock on your feet, back and forth in time while your fingers bounce off the fretboard and you play that dirty, dirty solo, sending soaring sounds you didn't know you had in you, holding your breath all the while. Trancelike, the room dissappears and you become the music and the music becomes you, still weaving that sound through existing layers. There's only a brief window where this happens. The house of cards crumbles eventually. Maybe its a bum note or bleeding fingers but you lose it eventually. And you're back to just being a guitar player, in your basement, surrounded by speakers, with a '68 Fender Strat over your shoulder. But for however long that window was open, you were a magician. You breathed life into the music and the music breathed life into you.

Posted by Chris at October 25, 2003 1:46 PM