For instance, how many
millions of people have seen
a YouTube video of someone
who’s freakishly good at
something—like a pre-teen
shredding “Eruption,” sinking
30 three-pointers in a row,
or dancing better than Justin
Timberlake—and then immediately
thought, “There’s no way
I’m ever going to be that good,
so why even try?”
This video of a 14-year-old girl playing "Eruption" went viral in May, causing widespread self-hatred
amongst older guitar players.
Maybe those with fewer years
on the planet and less context to
generalize from are more prone
to fatalist reactions like that,
but I bet it still happens plenty
with those of us who’ve been
around for a few decades, too.
I’m not saying we’re all gullible,
powerless, self-loathing idiots—I
think most of us, young or old,
get that viral videos are usually
outside the norm.
But I also think it can be easy
to maybe subconsciously let the
daily deluge of sensationalized
content streaming in from all over the planet permanently
warp our perception of life and
of ourselves—our conception
of who we are, what we may
become, and why our quirks
shouldn’t necessarily be ironed
out. Even when we put things
in proper context and don’t let
someone else’s apparent badassness
deter us, too many of
us still see it as an impossibly
high resetting of the bar for
what’s satisfactory or laudable
in a given pursuit. Because
let’s face it, everything is being
done faster, more precisely, and
younger these days (we’ll leave
the soullessness of much of it
for another discussion, though).
In a word, this is all totally
skewed—it’s a bogus lens on life.
Now, before you accuse me
of whining about the growing
pains of cultural evolution like
a dinosaur ignorant that the
choking smoke and increasing
temperatures aren’t from a meager
forest fire but are impending
desolation from YouTube’s
Comet, let me remind you that
when it comes to guitar and
music, we’re talking about Art.
Yeah, that’s a capital “A” there,
my friend—and you best hearken,
for it be Ye Olde English
signifier of something special,
hallowed, sacred, holy, etc. In
other words—don’t fuck
with it!
Though some people seem
perpetually hell-bent on making
anything and everything
competitive, the cynic in me
believes that’s usually somehow
tied to monetary gain rather
than love and concern for the
arts and inner enlightenment. I
mean, is there a subject that a
TV exec, film studio, or click-hungry social-media entity
hasn’t tried to cravenly twist
into a cash cow?
Obviously the web, mobile
devices, and social-media networks
didn’t create humanity’s greed, insecurities, or copycat
tendencies. But I contend that,
in a lot of ways, they act as a
giant magnifying glass, amplifying
the heat we already put on
ourselves. At their core, these
tendencies are actually a good
thing. They’re engraved on
our DNA, a Darwinian key
to our survival. They’re integral
to accomplishing things
and adjusting and adapting to
everything from how to act at
a funeral to what sort of line
to play over a funky vamp. But
when fanned too much, these
innate tendencies rage out of
control and cause us to take
something that should be inspiring
and turn it into something
either contrived or crippling.
So if you really want to play
beyond compare—in the best,
truest sense, in the way that will
be infinitely more meaningful
to you as an artist and to
us, your fellow beings—then
the answer is simple: Stop comparing
yourself to others. Stop
wondering whether your tone
is as “good” as Bonamassa’s or
Eddie’s or Joe Pass’ or whoever’s.
Stop worrying about whether
your licks are fast enough to
impress or humble other players
in the crowd. Stop caring
about whether your pedalboard
or amp or headstock logo pass
muster with snobs in the room.
Stop trying to make someone
else’s creations yours—make
your own mark, dammit!
Plotting your playing around
what someone else does or
thinks is as fruitless, unfulfilling,
and silly as deciding to
wear your hair, clothes, and
miscellaneous personal accoutrements
the way someone else
does. Just think what people
would say if you went around
wearing leather pants, sleeveless
shirts, a nose ring, and a long,
curly mop of hair with a conch-bedecked
top hat. Chances are, your physique—your height,
weight, body and head shape,
etc.—is better suited to something
you discover on your
own than trying to conform to
someone else’s style.
So learn to freaking celebrate
the fact that your freckles,
wrinkles, nose, ears, and that
weird cowlick you’ve got going
on the back of your head are a
combo that no one else has got.
Same goes for your guitar playing.
Learn to combat the downsides
of the daily digital deluge
and our built-in, self-preserving
insecurities by taking inspiration
from exceptional feats.
Just keep reminding yourself
that players who’ve gone down
in history took what came
before and made it their own,
while slavish copycats have
always been forgotten.
Shawn Hammond
shawn@premierguitar.com
