Chops and vedging

In the weird and wonderful world of music there are all sorts of crazy terms. For instrumentalists, that is people who play stuff, one of the key differences between good and bad players is their "chops".

I've probably lost you already, but let me try and explain. "Chops" are skills. In technical speak it's the ability of a player to get around their instrument really well. In layman's terms it means being able to play a good solo. Something that will make people go "wow!"

Well I used to have them. Chops, that is. But not so much anymore.

I started playing bass guitar when I was 15. By my mid 20's I could play almost anything I heard on a recording. However, I lost of a lot of the crazy cool stuff when I stopped playing professionally about 10 years back. In fact, when I got back on the bass seriously about 2 years ago I really noticed it. Things I could play easily before were a bit of a struggle.

What I'd lost were two things primarily. Speed and dexterity.

I could recover most of it pretty easily with a few weeks "in the woodshed" (read: practicing), although some of the more crazy things are still not recovered. To be honest, those crazy thing mostly consisted of making my bass guitar sound like a possessed knitting machine. Ah, the perils of youth.

What surprised me was what I gained...

Without the speed and silly skills I used to have, I was forced to do something else. To really pick the notes I needed. To really choose the rhythm that fit. I was forced to take my time and really choose what I would do, and with a lot less notes.

I was forced to be musical... instead of just tricky. Which got me thinking....

Imagine if I'd learned this earlier? Imagine if the songs I'd written in my 20's were driven by this sort of music, instead of impressive tricks? I know I would have been a better musician and less of a knitting machine.

I was beginning to realize I didn't miss my chops so much after all.

Then it occurred to me, what I've really learned here is a lesson in maturity.

As a young man, faster, louder and stronger was the mantra of the day. In our youth, we throw energy at any problem in much the same way I threw a billion notes at every song. Age teaches us, that it's about aim, strategy, good decisions and timing.

A concreter told me recently, "last year I figured out, I need to work smarter, not harder".

Sometimes "smarter" means I will never look impressive. Often it means it will take 10 years instead of 10 minutes. Regularly it means planned, intentional steps each day or week. Always, it means I have to stop and think before throwing all my energy behind a crazy idea. I just wish I'd learned this earlier.

The difference is a finished product that outlasts our rushed, youthful vigor.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the "woodshed" to work on "flight of the bumblebee". Or am I?