The Membership Community

Published: Tue, 11/02/21

I'm not sure what you call those places that seem to sprout up at the intersection of a highway access road and a major crosstown artery. They're not shopping malls, because they're not indoors. They're not strip malls, because they don't run in a straight line. Access is convoluted, like a cloverleaf reduced to something less than three dimensions, and on the whole, they go down in my book under a loose category headed "must to avoid." But the day before Halloween, I needed some accessories for my costume, and my daughter was up for humoring me, so off we went in search of red Converse All-Stars.

We found them on the second try, which was good, because we both realized pretty quickly that whatever you call that sort of place, it was neither of our respective scenes. Escape The Crowd, was our rallying cry, and we dove into the family ride to make as quick a getaway as we could considering all the navigational challenges involved in exiting that Moebius strip of a parking lot.

The great blues singer and guitarist Paul Rishell once explained to me the thing he found most fascinating about the solo prewar bluesmen was the introspective nature of their work. No one really knows how introspective they really were – stories abound in which two or three musicians would work together to play a dance, work a street corner or do other kinds of gigs as a matter of routine. And yet, on record, many of them played solo, and whether we project it on them or it's really there, the work does often convey a fierce sense of individualism and an atmosphere of solitude.

For many of us, the solo nature of fingerstyle guitar is a big part of the appeal – no need to rustle up a drummer or schedule a rehearsal, and with a little practice you can make something satisfyingly complete come out of your guitar whenever the mood strikes you. But that solitude cuts both ways. Without bandmates or even rehearsal mates, there's no one to share the experience with. As Tom Hanks observed when he went out to do standup comedy in preparation for his role in Punchline, when you make a film you work with people all around you, but doing standup, it's just you and the mic. If it goes great, you do get all the credit, but if you bomb, you bomb all alone.

Over the past six days I've been emphasizing how the lessons in the Fingerstyle Five can help you play better blues guitar. And I think that's true. More importantly, the people already learning from those lessons think so. But the membership is also a way to spend time around other guitarists who share your love of blues and a deep, abiding interest in playing and listening to American roots music. 

Like me, you may not dig crowds, and hence gravitate towards the individual nature of playing solo guitar. But if blues is your thing, and musicians are your people, don't underestimate the pleasures of having a place to talk shop, to compare notes (figuratively or literally), to hear how other people are learning and playing guitar, and to make your own contributions to the conversation.

The Fingerstyle Five membership will remain open going forward, but tonight is your last chance to join at the original price of $20/month. In the past week alone, almost 150 people have signed up to start playing better fingerstyle blues. If you'd like to join them, use the link below to register, and I'll see you inside.

Play Better Fingerstyle Blues

More soon,

David