Wishing for Any Kind of Musical Ability

Aspiring columnists like myself often get criticized that we should not try to disparage stuff that we don't know anything about. How dare I comment on sports when I never got more than four hits in a single Little League season, when my only varsity letter came as the manager of the baseball team. And especially, how dare I bash pop music when I have no visible signs of musical talent.

Not that I haven't tried, mind you. I took up the drums in elementary school, perhaps part of every kid's primal desire to play the loudest instrument possible in order to cause the most annoying effect on his parents. Actually, the drums were kinda pushed on me. At the end of third grade, if you were interested in playing in the band (pardon the Grateful Dead reference), they trotted you into a room with a bunch of instruments and they tried to see what you were best suited for. Now I had already gone through this the previous summer, as I tried to follow in my sister's short-lived footsteps and tried to play violin. The accent being on TRIED. So, they sent me from station to station, trying out the various woodwind and brass instruments, and there was one common thing that happened with all of them. I couldn't play them. I couldn't blow hard enough into the reed, mouthpiece, whatever, to make any kind of sound, much less the right one. Lung capacity has never been my strong suit, and I TALK for a living. So, they sent me to the one station that did not require breathing: percussion.

Which didn't just mean drums, but also "keyboard", in other words, bells. Nice try calling it a keyboard, but when I hit those metal plates with the mallets, I wasn't exactly Tony Banks from Genesis or RIchard Wright of Pink Floyd. Luckily, I only had to actually use it sparingly, it was the snare drum I played most. Just a matter of keeping time and making sure you didn't screw up. So I did this for two years, and then I ran into a big problem. I wasn't coordinated enough to do drum rolls. You know, dadadadadadadadadadadadadadadada... drum roll, please, that whole thing. It didn't help that I practiced drums like I would study in high school and college, that is to say, not at all. Hell, I didn't have time for that, I was young, I wanted to enjoy life, and I was starting my futile attempt to play sports. When I filled out my time sheets to show how much time I had practiced, I wrote down the correct and proper number, although I had probably spent that time at baseball practice or in the backyard. Eventually, I just said the hell with it. In hindsight, all I really missed out on was a lot more frustration, scorching summers and long nights of practice, and different anecdotes from the many I have now ("and this one time, at band camp...")

My next brush with music was my freshman year in high school. In another attempt to get me to play something, there was a segment of our music class where we alternated between electric keyboard (yeah, the real thing this time), and guitar. As keyboard was a lot easier to screw around on for me and my friends, I passed up the opportunity to learn guitar or any kind of decent keyboard ability. Of course, I wasn't as big into rock as I am now, so if I got a second chance at guitar, I could give it a shot. But not serious lessons, after all, I would hardly take such a thing seriously. I want to be the next John Landecker, not the next David Gilmour. Maybe in my spare time, though...

Then there's singing, which I don't like to do. I hang out occasionally with theatre types, so right off the bat I'm the least talented in the room when I'm with them. Sure I like to sing along with the radio when I'm in the car, but only when I'm alone. However, my best friend Courtney got a good laugh out of my attempts to sing "Somebody To Love" by Queen. See, when I do that song, I insist on doing ALL the parts, Freddie and the rest of the band, at the SAME TIME. Not taking it seriously makes it easier.

Which brings me to karaoke. You all know what it is, you all have done it, but few of you would admit it. Now we've been told (jokingly) that the actual word "karaoke" is Japanese for "tone deaf". That's only partially true; actually, it's only half of the translation. To get the full interpretation, you need to add the words "while drunk". Karaoke means "tone deaf while drunk". It has always been my belief that you cannot get the full karaoke experience without being drunk. And in my case, considering my shyness about singing, I could only do it after a few helpings of "liquid courage".

Now there are a few tips to get the best karaoke experience possible. First of all, do not attempt a song that you are positive you cannot sing. Even if the beer is telling you that you can sing it, do not try it. There's nothing worse for your friends than making them wince and worse cuz you think you can do a decent Meat Loaf. And speaking of which, there are two required songs that must be sung every time you go to karaoke, those being "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" and "Summer Nights" from Grease. I cannot stand either song, not since it was also required playing at every high school dance I ever went to. However, it's part of the experience, so you have to begrudgingly learn to like it, I s'pose. Lastly, at some point, not necessarily the first day but at some point, you have to get up and sing. I have done it, it's not exactly something I'll go around and brag about, but I have done it.

So now having said all that, it would be nice if I could have some sort of musical ability, but I don't feel it's necessary in order to write about music. Having nearly 200 CDs and countless other tapes, MP3s, etc. and knowing what I like is enough. After all, who ultimately decides what is good and what sucks? ME, that's who. OK, maybe that didn't come out right, I mean all of us as individuals. No, wait, I was right the first time; it is ME.