My fingertips feel like they’ve been dipped in wax. Several times over. I suppose it doesn’t help that one guitar callous in particular has formed over scar tissue from when a knife and I had a small altercation… Anyway, it feels weird. I’m hoping the weird feeling will disappear, leaving me with tough little fingertips that can play on steel strings for more than an hour.
I’ve now had three lessons and can now almost play the 12-bar Blues without making a total hash of it. Sadly, the same cannot be said for the opening lick for Mr Jones. I struggle mightily, but tell myself this is surely what every new guitarist goes through and that one day, Molly Woppy, I will get it.
I came away from Lesson #3 with the intro to Can’t Buy Me Love. I know that song. I’ve sung it nearly my whole life (except for when I was a baby and merely gurgled it). It’s in my DNA. However, whatever I’m playing doesn’t sound remotely like it. Nowhere close. I am confused and have therefore skipped to the next section – the riff to Enter Sandman. Yes, that one. In the process, I have learned to read tab.
As I was trained in piano and Proper Music Notation, guitar tab initially defeated me by its simplicity. My trusty guitar tutor keeps telling me that guitarists are lazylazylazy and that’s why chord boxes and tab is pictorial, and easy. Honest. I am beginning to believe him – bit too simple for me though: where the hell are staves, timing and pauses, crotchets, quavers and breves, and, and…!! Anyway, I’m getting there.
Most importantly, at the age of 47 I’m learning a new musical instrument and thoroughly enjoying the challenge. My aim: by my 50th par-tay, I’ll be able to play something recognisable. It’s good to have goals…