Dress Code

Published: Fri, 04/14/23

We raided my closet yesterday morning for costume supplies. The Dauphin is appearing in a school musical tonight and I was able to hook him up the with the requisite grown-up threads, despite the fact – as discussed while I equipped him with either a simple knot or a four-in-hand, I'm never sure which – that I haven't really worn a necktie, much less anything you could dignify with the term "trousers," for pretty much any part of the last thirty years of my life. I have to say, he looked smashing. If the singing and the choreography turns out to be half as good as his outfit, this show is in the bag.

Lest I mislead my constituency, I should clarify that I have worn a jacket of one kind or another at various times during those past three decades. In fact, it is somewhat known around our house that I have a weakness for outerwear of all kinds, a curious predilection for someone living in the climate I do. Of late, I've been partial to more casual iterations of the form, but I did go through a sort of sport coat phase while I was writing music for other people. Ever since moving my work space beyond the confines of my own home, I've believed in having, and adhering to, a studio dress code of some sort, and at the outset, the theme was "1970s Nashville Session Musician," or what I imagined that to be from scant photographic evidence of Buddy Emmons and others doing their thing behind the scenes on Music Row. Over time, the degree of formality waxed and waned; I somehow felt if I was going to meet with a creative director or anyone else who actually had an office, I should make some kind of effort to look like a mensch. In retrospect, I'm not sure how much my favorite thrift store coats did for the pearl snap and paisley motifs they ensconced, but at the time I felt they spoke volumes about my dedication to the craft of selling jalapeno burgers and airline tickets.

Because it matters how you frame things, right? The Dauphin will make a more believable song and dance man in a jacket and tie (and flip-flops) than if he just got up there in a t-shirt and shorts (and flip-flops). The details matter – the story they tell around the story. Which is why people talk about arranging a song rather than just playing it. One of the most satisfying things anyone ever told me after a show was "I really started looking forward to the end of each song – because I realized you were going to end each one differently."

Even if you've learned all the words to a song and can sing all the verses, or you've worked out how to play the entire melody to your own self-accompaniment in the bass, you still need to frame the tune. I'm talking intro, ending, maybe some kind of cool vamp in the middle. Fortunately, all the raw materials you need to do so are lying around in plain sight – you just need to swipe them from the song itself. In this week's lesson, I go through five steps to create your own intro to a song, by stripping it down to its essential groove and building it back up again with simple blues elements. You can find it here:

Make Your Own Fingerstyle Blues Intros With These Five Steps

If you're interested in attending my upcoming Freddie Green Chords workshop on April 22nd, you can learn more and sign up at the link below:

Freddie Green Chords: Swing Voicings And Chord Substitutions On The Twelve Bar Blues

More soon,

David
 
Develop your groove, build your repertoire and begin improvising with the Fingerstyle Five membership's organized, ongoing lessons. Learn more and sign up at fretboardconfidential.com
 
david@davidhamburger.com

P.O. Box 302151
Austin TX 78703
USA


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