Thursday, October 2, 2014

Thu Oct 02 2014

Made my decision about a new doctor. In the end, it’s all kind of dart board technology. But on the basis of a couple of recommendations, I called. And on the basis of generally good vibes from the phone call, made the first appointment. First physical for probably 10 years, so it’s about time. The sun was out and the weather lovely, and nothing on the calendar until the afternoon, so feeling full of myself for being such a good boy and actually taking action on the doctor front, I treated myself to a bike ride punctuated by a little reading out in front of the cafĂ© and a quick stop at the grocery store on the way back.

Sitting in the sun, sipping an Americano, reading the Wolf bio where we are still pretty early in his life, I came across this sentence:

“Wolf’s unusual voice was a gift of nature that he worked hard to develop.”

Made a mental note of the page number (this is not a kindle book), and continued. It goes on to quote Wolf’s [cousin? Half-sister? In Mississippi in the 20s and 30s folks were often called upon to raise the kids of distant relatives, and it’s kind of hard to keep track] who said that Wolf “started with his voice – trying to grow it.”

This is more or less the thing that I have been looking at and pondering out loud over in the blog these last couple of weeks. On Tuesday I posed a question about whether [picture of a teenaged Jimmy Hendricks, best guess mid-1950s] was destined to become [picture of Jimi Hendrix performing in the Grand Ballroom of the Washington Hilton on March 10 1968]. A mistake to use the word “destiny” in that question. A little poetic license that introduced an element I have absolutely no qualifications in.

My friend Rick put up a comment on that post, averring that he was indeed destined to become what he became, and that you can see it in the photo of the youth. I kind of get that. But I have to wonder if that is something you can only see knowing what we know now. Every time the Seattle Circle Guitar School goes into a classroom of elementary school aged kids and straps guitars on them for the first time, we see this kind of pose being struck, and with genuine enthusiasm. I choose to maintain the attitude that any one of them could be the next Hendrix. Maybe this guy:


Or maybe one of them?


The thing about the observation that “Wolf’s unusual voice was a gift of nature that he worked hard to develop,” that rings so true for me is not the notion of a “gift of nature” but rather the fact that he worked hard. When you read the personal accounts of people who knew Hendrix before (and after, for that matter) he was that guy, one of the things that jumps out was that he practiced all the time. He was hardly ever seen without a guitar. I don’t know anything about destiny, but I am pretty sure that the kid posing in the front yard in Seattle, no matter what his god-given potential, would never have become what he became if he hadn’t been willing to put in the work.

I have known some amazing musicians in my life. Some of them seemed quite gifted. But every one of them was the hardest worker I have ever met. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

ps: Just in case I ever thought that Willie Dixon was just being gross in the last verse of Wang Dang Doodle, describing the jukes that he, Wolf, and Willie Brown were regularly performing at in the 1930’s, Son House said:
“Them country balls were rough! They were critical, man! They'd start off good, you know. Everybody happy, dancing and then they'd start to getting louder and louder. The women would be dipping that snuff and swallowing that snuff spit along with that corn whiskey, and they'd start to mixing fast, and oh, brother! They'd start something then!”
In other words, when the fish scent filled the air there really was snuff juice everywhere.

1 comment:

  1. “But I have to wonder if that is something you can only see knowing what we know now.” – CG.

    Great point. And I too think that what we now know influences our perception of history.

    But, my point was: “that guy” has a certain quality in that early photograph. Was he going to become the guitar legend he became and one we all know? That is debatable for sure, but from that photograph, I sense he was going to become “something” extraordinary. What’s debatable, in my mind at least is, would he become a guitar legend?, or a culture changing architect?, or an inventor of new technology?, etc., etc. Don’t know. But, in my option, he would go on to become someone “special”.

    Now, the same can be said of the child in the 1st photograph you posted from the Seattle Circle Guitar School – there’s energy in that kid holding the guitar, and a seemingly natural pose w/ an instrument. This is someone I have no knowledge of what-so-ever, other than he attending a Circle meeting and he’s in the care of good instructors. Will he grow up to become a master musician? Again, don’t know, but I hope so. But, there’s no guarantee. And whatever he does in the future, me thinks he be very successful.

    And this leads me to a point I think you’ve been making in your blog, possibly since the beginning of this topic: One must do the work to achieve the goal (or aim).

    Let’s use an example that author Mark Lewisohn (‘Tune In: The Beatles: All these Years’, and other Beatle books), has used to frame how 4 lads from Liverpool honed their craft over 3 seasons in Hamburg Germany and worked to become one of the greatest bands ever known. He calculates the total stage time over those 3 trips to Hamburg amounted to ~1000 hours of playing. This was their time of doing the work and how they became who they were (are).

    Another author, Malcolm Gladwell (‘Blink’, ‘The Tipping Point’ and other tomes), makes a similar suggestion that one becomes “great” or “exceptional” at what noted people become (not just guitarists) by putting in time to do the work - and similarly, he cites that point in time happens around the ~1000 hour mark too. I also recall this comes up in various traditions, both ancient and current ways and paths.

    “That guy” in the mid-1950s in Seattle, was rarely seen without a guitar … even his buddies while he was in the military noted “he always had a guitar” … “that guy” was putting in the time, effort, and doing the work to go on to greatness.

    I think there is value in doing the work to become someone at the top of their game, especially when one is not, when they start out. The notion of “being born tone deaf and with no sense of rhythm” (RF) can be very real. But without doing the (required) work, nothing will change. Well, something might change anyway, but it might not be the desired effect.

    Natural talent can take many forms. Let’s take an example where someone has the natural ability to paint portraits on canvas w/ oils. They might not nurture that aspect of their “natural” ability, but pursue something else entirely different, yet still be very successful. They might become an author, or something else, or maybe something in a similar field, say, a cartoon artist, etc. My point is the “natural talent” might not be fully evident, but once the work begins, other aspects might surface or a different direction might present itself. Also, there’s many cases of people having a “natural talent” in multiple disciplines – Joni Mitchell comes to mind (singer/song writer AND painter), and John Lennon (singer/song writer, AND artist, writer as well), etc.

    Personally, I can’t spot “natural talent”, but I can sense someone who has a quality. When they are young as in that young Seattle guitar player in a Circle, I wouldn’t be able to gauge if he grows up to be the next Hendrix. But, hopefully he’ll grow up … and he will be successful in his time. He’s doing the work.

    Regards,

    R.

    PS – Sorry for the longish comment, but I really couldn’t say this in a sentence or two.

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