It was nice to meet you again, Music, but...
...perhaps it's best we part and go our separate ways. At least for a while.
My last post set the backstory for my desire to get reacquainted with bass guitar. Pushed forward by some new friends, I marched into my local Guitar Center and (as promised) walked out with a Line6 combo amp. Still could not believe I didn't have a massive anxiety attack at the store. Took this as a good sign. Did not get much of a chance to play that evening, but was still riding the wave of excitement.
The next evening, I made it home for work and got right to it. No headphones; I wanted to make some noise. Plugged in, tuned up, played with getting the right tone, and then it was time to add the inspiration. Popped in an Overkill album *guaranteed* to get me playing along, let out a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed "play."
At first, it sounded like crap on a stick. Oh well, no biggie, haven't played these songs in years. Adjusted tone some more, cranked the stereo up even more, and kept going. "OK, this is more like it!" I heard myself say. The floor was shaking, the music was earsplitting, and I was cracked a smile. I had goosebumps. It did start to feel like old times again.
For about 27 seconds.
Even I was astounded how quickly I lost interest. I didn't become aware about how I looked, how I sounded, or how I was mangling that tune. That I could deal with, that I could fix with practice. No, this was more fundamental...I simply stopped caring about playing. I even tried several other songs to no avail, although I was getting better. I eventually pulled out the biggest last-resort weapon I could find: Iron Maiden's Rock In Rio live DVD. IRON. F**KING. MAIDEN. There is no band I get more excited about, and this concert is absolutely electrifying to me, and has never failed me.
After less than 30 minutes, I was done. For good. I finished listening to the concert without hitting a single note. If I've come to the point where not even His Majesty Lord Almighty Steve Harris can save my desire to play, there really is no saving it.
Am I giving up too easily? Almost certainly. But I did have to ask myself: "Was it rewarding?" and the answer was a resounding "nope." There were no anxiety attacks, I didn't become self-conscious or anything (as I expected)...I just found no joy in it. It was a chore, like folding the laundry or doing the dishes. I guess that's the best evidence (for me) that it's time to move on.
The amp will be returned to the store, and guitars are already packed away in their cases. I'll still keep them around, just in case I get the music bug again, years from now.
I will always enjoy music; but far more likely as an admirer and not as a musician.
*pads off, perhaps a little defeated, but still hunting for that passion somewhere else*
My last post set the backstory for my desire to get reacquainted with bass guitar. Pushed forward by some new friends, I marched into my local Guitar Center and (as promised) walked out with a Line6 combo amp. Still could not believe I didn't have a massive anxiety attack at the store. Took this as a good sign. Did not get much of a chance to play that evening, but was still riding the wave of excitement.
The next evening, I made it home for work and got right to it. No headphones; I wanted to make some noise. Plugged in, tuned up, played with getting the right tone, and then it was time to add the inspiration. Popped in an Overkill album *guaranteed* to get me playing along, let out a deep breath, closed my eyes, and pressed "play."
At first, it sounded like crap on a stick. Oh well, no biggie, haven't played these songs in years. Adjusted tone some more, cranked the stereo up even more, and kept going. "OK, this is more like it!" I heard myself say. The floor was shaking, the music was earsplitting, and I was cracked a smile. I had goosebumps. It did start to feel like old times again.
For about 27 seconds.
Even I was astounded how quickly I lost interest. I didn't become aware about how I looked, how I sounded, or how I was mangling that tune. That I could deal with, that I could fix with practice. No, this was more fundamental...I simply stopped caring about playing. I even tried several other songs to no avail, although I was getting better. I eventually pulled out the biggest last-resort weapon I could find: Iron Maiden's Rock In Rio live DVD. IRON. F**KING. MAIDEN. There is no band I get more excited about, and this concert is absolutely electrifying to me, and has never failed me.
After less than 30 minutes, I was done. For good. I finished listening to the concert without hitting a single note. If I've come to the point where not even His Majesty Lord Almighty Steve Harris can save my desire to play, there really is no saving it.
Am I giving up too easily? Almost certainly. But I did have to ask myself: "Was it rewarding?" and the answer was a resounding "nope." There were no anxiety attacks, I didn't become self-conscious or anything (as I expected)...I just found no joy in it. It was a chore, like folding the laundry or doing the dishes. I guess that's the best evidence (for me) that it's time to move on.
The amp will be returned to the store, and guitars are already packed away in their cases. I'll still keep them around, just in case I get the music bug again, years from now.
I will always enjoy music; but far more likely as an admirer and not as a musician.
*pads off, perhaps a little defeated, but still hunting for that passion somewhere else*