Good Ol'Pickin'

Growing up I experienced the emergence of Rock & Roll. As I matured (probably not a good word to describe me, shall we say ripened), so did the music. By the time I reached my teens, more sophisticated electronics and improved amplification ushered in the era of loud. At a concert in 1968, I wove my way through a mass of people to get a close up view of Pete Townsend. This position allowed me a vantage point to see his hands in action. However, the location was in direct proximity to his Marshall stack. The high pitched buzzing in my right ear for the next three days did nothing to discourage my eagerness to experience loud, live music.

My physician father lectured, cajoled and ranted against my quest to permanently damage my hearing. Armed with youthful ignorance, I turned a deaf ear to his warnings.
(Insert classic literature aside here - "The goodness of a true pun is in a direct ratio to its intolerability" - Edgar Allen Poe)
Despite my best efforts, I somehow escaped aural degeneration. My love of high energy, high volume music notwithstanding, as I aged my attraction to acoustic music grew.

Some will blame the Great Folk Scare of the 60s. I admit early exposure to Leadbelly, Woody Guthrie, Ramblin' Jack Elliot, Pete Seeger, et.al., influenced me. But, the preeminent culprit was Jorma Kaukonen and the first Hot Tuna album. From the opening notes of Hesitation Blues, the acoustic hook sunk into my psyche.

So began my journey. With a mediocre Epiphone, I struggled to work my way through acoustic blues. Both solo and with other like-minded folks, I played coffee houses, parties and dives. The guitar upgraded to a Martin D-18, callouses formed on my finger tips and my technique improved. Albeit much slower than I desired. Eventually, the dire wolf of responsibility darkened my doorstep. This led to a real job and long hours with my nose to the ground and ear to the grindstone.

Though I gave up performing live, I continued my pursuit of the guitar; playing with myself for personal enjoyment. Get your minds out of the gutter. Boredom with strumming chords, began an exploration into finger-picking just to keep myself amused. Being a guitar autodidact, bad habits and personal idiosyncrasies plagued me.

I developed an individual style which I cannot explain.  All I can say is that my fingers seem to know what they are doing. I don't. If I try to slow it down and chart what strings I play with what finger and where, I get lost.  It's the closest I'll ever come to experiencing Zen.

While it's not for me to decide, for good or ill I began playing in front of live people again. (an allusion to my penchant for solitary nights playing guitar in graveyards) No matter how bad a day gets, or what insanity from the outside world intrudes, I always find solace picking away on my old six string. As ever - BB

"To stand up on a stage alone with an acoustic guitar requires bravery bordering on heroism. Bordering on insanity." Richard Thompson