Reflecting - The Music Never Ends

Written Sun. 19 July 2009

This weekend, I did another duo gig with my guitar teacher, Wayne Bosch, at The Food Lover’s Market, a restaurant in the southern suburbs of Cape Town. It was our third gig there, and, in many ways, the best so far. There was a bigger crowd and some of my friends came to listen, which always makes the experience more special. Also very special having my son and my Significant Other there, lovingly supporting me.

What I’ve noticed, since starting to work with Wayne, is how my approach to my singing has changed. It’s very interesting, and quite ironic: I’ve spent the last year working on improvisation on the guitar, particularly using the pentatonic scales, and what I’ve sort of got down, at this stage, is the playing of the scales and other exercises, most of them at the desired speed (practise with my metronome), with my intellectual grasp of the theory far more advanced than my execution of the actual techniques of improvisation. Maybe this is not uncommon for someone like me – I tend to live inside my head a lot, and understanding concepts comes easy to me; it’s the time required to practise every day that eludes me. Also, learning and unlearning guitar techniques and habits after playing the instrument for 30 years is not uncomplicated.

But again, if I were to simplify the whole topic, the bottom line is, I need to practise more. Ironic, though, that my singing is evidencing the material learnt, while my guitar playing seems to be taking longer to evolve. Maybe it has to do with how I think of myself: as a singer who can play a bit of guitar. I also think that my singing is something I “work” on all of the time, even when I’m silent – the music literally never ends, in my head. It’s easy for me to work on improvising on a song’s melody at any time of any day, while the guitar requires more of a contrived situation: I need to have my guitar in my hands, I need physical space to practise, and I absolutely need solitude.

I love going to the Jazz Workshop every Wednesday, and having my lesson with Wayne. I love the actual building - an amazing, old, three-storeyed structure in the heart of the city, and a place that holds many memories. Everything about the place makes me feel at home – the smell, the sounds, the cramped reception area (!), and of course the fact that everyone there is, like me, passionate about music.

I’ve worked with different musicians, over the years, and each one has brought out something different in me, especially in live performances. When you work with someone for a long time, you develop a synergy and a smoothness that come with repeated playing together. It’s a comfortable space, and one in which as much growth as stagnation is possible, depending on the headspace of the people involved. It’s also a space where boundaries sometimes get blurred and objectivity gets lost; as in all other relationships, musicians who work with each other regularly have expectations of each other, usually tacit, and not always mutual. Sometimes, despite attempts to keep the lines of communication clear and unambiguous, problems arise, and bands break up.

But, because the music never ends, musicians gravitate towards other musicians, to fill gaps, to connect for the purpose of earning money in the music world, or, most commonly, to simply continue the wonderful journey.

I am thankful for everyone I’ve worked with, especially my first music partner, Eddie Petersen, and my long-term duo partner, Keith Tabisher, who taught me so much, made me laugh, and helped me along my journey.

Right now, I am thankful for having crossed paths with Wayne, a musician and teacher par excellence, and a truly remarkable person. I am determined to enjoy every step of this part of my journey. I believe that there are no coincidences, and that synchronicity is at work.
The music never ends.