Periodically I feel the need to jump up on the soapbox and reiterate a
general philosophy that, as time goes on, I've grown to believe more and
more in. I only feel this need through personal experience and growth, plus
my desire to want to share as many of my own discoveries with my fellow
colleagues and students, many of whom are engaged in a relentless search for
the ultimate, often elusive creative "path" in music. If my words and advice
result in creating a straighter line between points "A" and "B" for you,
then my mission as a coach will that much more successful.
We all need the proper tools to create music, and by "tools" I don't mean a
certain brand of instrument or amplifier, but rather the music we hear
inside. Now, what we end up hearing on the inside is directly related to
what we expose ourselves to and learn from on the outside, much like the way
we learn to speak a language fluently. What we imitate and study we
eventually become, and that means the good as well as the bad.
Though I was a relatively late starter to both playing (19 years old) and
composing (36 years old), nowadays my colleagues and students continually
applaud my work, often saying "where in the world do you get all of these
ideas from?" Well, I know exactly where I got them from, as well as the
process that led to using my acquired tools in a creative manner. The two
main areas of study that resulted in this knowledge were arranging and
transcribing.
Arranging, mainly for solo guitar, was something I was drawn to almost from
the day I began playing. Not being a vocalist of any stature to speak of, I
was simply fascinated by the fact that I could have my guitar "sing" a song
if I knew how to combine a chord progression with the melody of a popular
song. My early efforts? The desire was certainly there, but without a
teacher to pave the way my first arrangements were sorely lacking. However,
I was ambitious enough to continue, and I was also smart enough to realize
that the more experience I gathered and the more tunes I exposed myself to,
the better. I was right about that, and even though I still wasn't composing
original material, I was setting the stage for the future.
Improvising was another issue altogether. Misled by early instructors and
the false belief that scale knowledge was the ticket to creative freedom, I
finally threw in the towel after playing 9-10 years and realized that
something was really missing: the language. That's when I made a conscious
decision to begin transcribing in earnest, and abandoned my trust in scales
for a newfound faith in solid licks (riffs) and solos. In retrospect that
was the greatest decision I've ever made in my music career, because after
all the smoke had settled from several, obsessive years of learning and
thoroughly exploring this language, I began combining so many terrific lines
and concepts with the "tried and true" chord progressions I had been
absorbing.
What does all this add up to? Great lines (including bass) plus great
progressions equals great music. It's not all that unbelievable when you
think about it, eh? In a sense I'm still arranging, but you could make the
case that composing really is just an extension of arranging, and how well
you compose is a direct reflection of how strong the tools are that you're
working with. Mine are very powerful, because my influences are very
powerful, which is something I frequently point out when someone pays me a
compliment. Strength generates strength.
Though I still come across those who profess a faith in scales as superior
creative music tools, I've yet to hear one scalar player who inspires me.
Why licks? Why not?