Negotiating The Maze of Life and a Blues Shuffle
Negotiating The Maze of Life and a Blues Shuffle in G
My guitar teacher said “Go ahead. Take a solo.” I’d probably been playing the guitar for a year, maybe? What did I know about solos? Thankfully, my teacher was talking to my best friend John, who’d studiously memorized the notes to Little Brown Jug, which he’d then play perfectly. This indicated to our teacher that John was making progress. While I was far less likely to play the song without mistakes. So John got the first shot at playing a solo, while I strummed some chords, waiting my turn. With the teachers command to “Take a solo” John began to play, making sounds that resembled somebody strangling a weasel. This was to be expected. Without some direction about how to play a solo, John was abandoned, lost in the wilderness of the guitar’s fretboard. And the fretboard did not suffer novices or fools lightly, regardless of their intent.
After John’s debacle at the hands of a blues-shuffle in G, I took her for a spin.
Now, a few weeks prior, I had an epiphany, as John and I laid down some rhythm for our teacher to play over. Sure enough, he launched into to some cool licks—a bit of Chuck Berry—maybe a Duane Eddy lick or two, while we sat in awe of his prowess. So, I went home and thought about this soloing business. What was involved? There must be a pattern?
This was probably the greatest epiphany of my life.
Drop any human or animal into a maze and they’ll look for a pattern. If they find one, the pattern will be their guide to negotiating the maze. Eventually, as they find new, interconnecting patterns, within the maze, the maze, will stop being a maze, and become a series of roads leading to freedom.
That’s what the guitar fretboard was, a maze. With patterns, I could play in tune—and, if I did something as simple as play in time, with the music, I could improvise, play solos, and riff like an adolescent madman. The more patterns I found, the more freedom I gained.
Now, two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it was enough to learn to negotiate the maze, even it was in a very simplified way. Meaning, when my teacher looked at me and said “You’re turn to solo.” I took my turn and I played. After I was done, which was a single chorus, comprised of a Chuck Berry lick and a few blues bends, he stopped, looked at me and said “How’d you learn to do that?” Since he hadn’t shown me a thing, in that regard, my barely competent solo was completely unexpected. From that moment forward, playing the notes to Little Brown Jug was no longer a concern, for either him or me.
I’ve found this same lesson to be invaluable, throughout my life. Like a rat in a maze, we negotiate existence. The more we find patterns, roads, bridges, between disparate and dark places, the more the world expands and a light is shined, illuminating the darkness.
Better than patterns, even, is practical theory, which was another lesson I learned as a musician. Musical theory enables the musician to radically expand their territory. Once you have a grasp of music theory, the maze breaks down further and learning new ideas becomes easier, as the result.
This is no less true of any other subject; politics, economics, taxes, healthcare, religion—all are rooted in patterns or theories, which, when applied, make learning about these subjects far easier. In the absence of finding and expanding familiar patterns, the maze remains a maze, severely restricting our freedom, even our ability to logically think and make connections. If the maze is too dense, to non-negotiable, life becomes that small part of the maze where we remain trapped, unable to find our way out.
For me, this was the great epiphany. What began as a blues shuffle in G, eventually led everywhere, opening doors in my head, building roads and bridges, leading to freedom. If not completely, the walls are less visible and the expanse of highway, wide open.
Mark Magula
My guitar teacher said “Go ahead. Take a solo.” I’d probably been playing the guitar for a year, maybe? What did I know about solos? Thankfully, my teacher was talking to my best friend John, who’d studiously memorized the notes to Little Brown Jug, which he’d then play perfectly. This indicated to our teacher that John was making progress. While I was far less likely to play the song without mistakes. So John got the first shot at playing a solo, while I strummed some chords, waiting my turn. With the teachers command to “Take a solo” John began to play, making sounds that resembled somebody strangling a weasel. This was to be expected. Without some direction about how to play a solo, John was abandoned, lost in the wilderness of the guitar’s fretboard. And the fretboard did not suffer novices or fools lightly, regardless of their intent.
After John’s debacle at the hands of a blues-shuffle in G, I took her for a spin.
Now, a few weeks prior, I had an epiphany, as John and I laid down some rhythm for our teacher to play over. Sure enough, he launched into to some cool licks—a bit of Chuck Berry—maybe a Duane Eddy lick or two, while we sat in awe of his prowess. So, I went home and thought about this soloing business. What was involved? There must be a pattern?
This was probably the greatest epiphany of my life.
Drop any human or animal into a maze and they’ll look for a pattern. If they find one, the pattern will be their guide to negotiating the maze. Eventually, as they find new, interconnecting patterns, within the maze, the maze, will stop being a maze, and become a series of roads leading to freedom.
That’s what the guitar fretboard was, a maze. With patterns, I could play in tune—and, if I did something as simple as play in time, with the music, I could improvise, play solos, and riff like an adolescent madman. The more patterns I found, the more freedom I gained.
Now, two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but it was enough to learn to negotiate the maze, even it was in a very simplified way. Meaning, when my teacher looked at me and said “You’re turn to solo.” I took my turn and I played. After I was done, which was a single chorus, comprised of a Chuck Berry lick and a few blues bends, he stopped, looked at me and said “How’d you learn to do that?” Since he hadn’t shown me a thing, in that regard, my barely competent solo was completely unexpected. From that moment forward, playing the notes to Little Brown Jug was no longer a concern, for either him or me.
I’ve found this same lesson to be invaluable, throughout my life. Like a rat in a maze, we negotiate existence. The more we find patterns, roads, bridges, between disparate and dark places, the more the world expands and a light is shined, illuminating the darkness.
Better than patterns, even, is practical theory, which was another lesson I learned as a musician. Musical theory enables the musician to radically expand their territory. Once you have a grasp of music theory, the maze breaks down further and learning new ideas becomes easier, as the result.
This is no less true of any other subject; politics, economics, taxes, healthcare, religion—all are rooted in patterns or theories, which, when applied, make learning about these subjects far easier. In the absence of finding and expanding familiar patterns, the maze remains a maze, severely restricting our freedom, even our ability to logically think and make connections. If the maze is too dense, to non-negotiable, life becomes that small part of the maze where we remain trapped, unable to find our way out.
For me, this was the great epiphany. What began as a blues shuffle in G, eventually led everywhere, opening doors in my head, building roads and bridges, leading to freedom. If not completely, the walls are less visible and the expanse of highway, wide open.
Mark Magula
