Sitting Is Good

Published: Thu, 12/16/21

a better set of Wurlitzer samples) and to prove that the past few years of study have all been worth it (it took me two hours to write those eight seconds of counterpoint, but boy, were they a hit!). When I was doing nothing but that kind of work for weeks and months on end, I took pride in treating it as craft, in being able to just turn on the motor and go. When there are parameters and deadlines, you learn how to sit down, open up a new file, and start making stuff.

I like to think I've carried that work ethic into my online efforts. If it's the start of a new month, a new song shows up in the membership; if it's Thursday, a newsletter shows up in your inbox. But last week there was no new letter. Writing the newsletter is like writing music, a matter of sitting down, open a file, and starting to make stuff. The snag comes if I don't sit down in the first place. If I did, I'd start writing about something. And eventually that would turn into something worth talking about.

Eric Clapton once described reaching a point where "you've played every lick you know, and then you're f*cked..." In any creative endeavor – and writing about music totally qualifies, or I wouldn't be doing it in the first place – you can reach a point where you feel like you've said all there is to say on the subject. When that happens to me, I'm inclined to go with a paraphrase of the old parental advice: "If you can't say something interesting, don't say anything at all."

But then, if I've got my wits about me, I think, "well...what if I just sit down?" Sometimes you just have to set the bar incredibly low, to trick yourself into starting at all. Sitting is good. Once you're sitting in front of your stuff, you might as well push around a few words, push around a few notes. But given the kind of intangibles we deal with as musicians, it will work better if you've spent a little time beforehand setting up a few definitions. If I'm writing a newsletter, I know it's going to be around five paragraphs long. If I'm writing a song, it's going to need at least three verses.

Practicing can feel a lot more vague. How do you know when you've practiced? When I feel like I'm noodling, rather than practicing, it's usually because I haven't really defined what the work is. Am I learning a specific song? Putting blues licks over a specific groove? Trying to get to those new voicings at a specific tempo? You can't sit down and get to work if you haven't defined what that work is. But knowing what the work is means zero if you never sit down to do it. Get clear on what the work is, and get clear on what starting looks like, and you have the makings of a game you have a shot at winning now and then.

See? Five paragraphs. Six, if you count this one.

More soon,

David

P.S. There's a reason I teach just one song a month in my Fingerstyle Five membership, and divide the material into clear, specific weekly assignments. If you'd like help defining what you need to work on and how to work on it, you can learn more about the Fingerstyle Five at www.fretboardconfidential.com.