Pribek

I went through months of speculation before I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.

The original symptoms appeared in the latter part of 2005. One morning in October, after a gig at Murphy’s in Springfield the previous night, I woke up and both hands were numb and tingling. I had never experienced anything like it before. I had trouble moving my fingers; I had no sense of feel.

It was cold in the club the night before. I remember having trouble playing because my hands were cold and I thought that maybe I was bearing down to hard. Picking and gripping too hard; sometimes you do that in the cold. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I pinched a nerve or something while loading gear in or out.

After a couple of weeks, the numbness/tingling didn’t go away. I made an appointment with a chiropractor, Dr. Jan. Her feeling was that I had indeed pinched a nerve and that treatment would help.

She recommended ice packs before and after I played guitar. At this time, I was rehearsing with a band several times a week. After about a month of attempting to play, ice packs and visits to Dr. Jan, the hand problems had not improved in the slightest. She recommended a neurologist.

So, I went to see Dr. Hopewell. He thought that the pinched nerve idea was suspect right off the bat because, the problem was in both hands. His thinking was that I might have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. He recommended that I cease all guitar playing as this might make the problem worse.

I went through the Carpal Tunnel process; Cortisone, steroids, shock tests. To Dr. Hopewell’s surprise, there was no evidence of Carpal Tunnel. His thinking, at this point, was that I had some type of problem with the auto-immune system which could include any number of things including M.S.

I then underwent a series of physical tests, M.R.I.’s and spinal taps. It takes a lot of data to reach a diagnosis for M.S. It took a good amount of time as well. All in all, it was about eight months.

After the diagnosis, Dr. Hopewell said it was fine if I started to play guitar again. In fact, he said it might be good physical therapy.

I may get more into how the disease has effected every facet of my life as time goes on but, for today, I am going to talk about my experience as a guitarist with M.S.

Until I went through this period of not playing, it never really dawned on me how much of my self identity was wrapped up in being a guitar player. My income was directly tied to guitar playing. Most of the personal relationships that I had were with people whom I met while I was playing guitar. So, it was a means to social interactivity. If I met someone that asked me what I did, I would say: “I play guitar”. It’s a pretty good ice-breaker. A lot of people play themselves, or have a friend or relative that play. It was a comfortable way to start a conversation and then, move into other areas.

I realized that I used my guitar playing as a crutch. Like most people, I had a life experience that wasn’t always smooth sailing. My own list of problems includes battling with drug and alcohol abuse, financial difficulties; the kinds things a lot of us have to deal with. My refuge was always the guitar. It was something, the one thing, that after years of discipline and dedication was effortless for me.

There were times when I played, that problems were forgotten. Times when it was like flying.

There was a negative side as well. If I was working with other musicians who didn’t always meet my standards, I was sometimes abrasive and hurtful. Looking back, I can see a lot of times when I was frustrated with other band members. Instead of working through the problems with honesty and compassion; I would just pick up my ball and go home.

During this period of not playing guitar, I guess you can say that I embarked on a process of realization. I practiced meditation techniques and breathing exercises. Every day, I would try to read spiritual books.

As I look at it right now, I realize that it wasn’t just an honest attempt at spiritual growth. It may sound superficial but, at the root of my exploration was the fear of a very possible reality that I would never be a guitar player again. Or, that I would never be able to play at a level that I once had. If I didn’t have this thing that I had based my life around; what was I going to do? Once again, it may sound silly but, I had real doubts that I would be able to cope with life without my guitar crutch.

When Dr. Hopewell gave me the go ahead to start playing, I entered into it with some trepidation. I made it a point to not get my hopes up too much; not set artificial goals.
From my conversations with the doctor and my own awareness of my situation, I knew that I would be dealing with obstacles on several different levels.

First there was the physical level. I still had and to this day still have, the numbness and tingling in my hands. It’s hard to describe; sometimes it feels a lot like a bad sunburn. Sometimes it seems more present but it never fully goes away. The good doctor explained that I had probably experienced some permanent nerve damage in the time between when I first felt the symptoms to the time that I started taking the interferon (the purpose of which is to slow the progression of the M.S.).

In other words, the way that my hands feel is a permanent fixture. How much of this would I be able to overcome? Guitarists rely on “touch”. Would I regain the touch; Is there a way to get around a loss of touch?

Previous to this lay-off, I had played guitar on a virtual daily basis for close to thirty years. As a result of the lay-off, I knew that I would be dealing with some degree of atrophy specific to guitar playing. There are muscle functions that are specific. There is a matter of hand-eye coordination. There is an issue of thirty years of useful calluses that I had built up that were now gone.

There was also (this may be the wrong or, even a made up term) a neuro-physical level. On the M.R.I. of my spinal chord there are a couple of spots that clearly show damage to the myelin sheath. That is how M.S. works, it attacks the protective sheath around the spinal chord and attempts to destroy it. Keep in mind that, when describing any medical stuff, I resort to my own words and understanding.

Anyway, there is damage to the myelin sheath. So, there may very well be a degree of “interruption” between the signal my brain sends and my hands on the receiving end. Here, I am paraphrasing Dr. Hopewell. He said that my brain might send the signal, my hands might not get it. Or, there may be a delay in how my hands react. Or, my hands might not get the entire signal and only partially respond. How much of all of this was going to go on, was guesswork.

You see, I had done quite a bit of my own research to find other people that had a similar situation. The problem with M.S. is, every case is different. Also, the fact that the disease presented itself in my hands is off the norm. Most people experience initial symptoms in other areas, legs, feet, eyes. I found a lot of inspiring people yet, I could not find any that were guitar players with issues specific to the hands. Dr. Hopewell used the phrase “uncharted waters”.

I entered into this idea of playing again as “physical therapy” with no idea of possible results, if any.

In that respect, there was a purely mental level involved in this undertaking. As I said, I made it a point to not set artificial goals. I tried to be O.K. with the idea that this may not work at all, that it might be an exercise in futility.

When I first picked up the guitar, it felt unfamiliar, a foreign object. I was unable to execute the simplest things. I could not play a chord; I had no stamina. I felt pain which at first was frustrating but, later became a revelation.

My mindset, at this point was, that the guitar would never again be a profession for me. It seemed that I did lack the “touch”. My thinking was that the future of my guitar playing would be more utilitarian in nature. Maybe, I could get to a place where I was able to use it once again as a songwriting tool.

The question was, if that is the end, a songwriting tool, does it justify the means? Is it worth the time and effort to have this tool?

I said that the pain was a revelation. At some point I thought; If I can feel pain maybe, the nerve damage that Dr. Hopewell speaks of is not all encompassing. If I can feel pain then, I can feel. Maybe I can get some of the “touch”. Maybe, if I develop the calluses again, the pain would decrease and some of the touch will return.

I came to an important conclusion around this same period; Somewhere down below the layers of angst, the guitar gave me pleasure. That was the reason I started playing as a child. It was fun. Now, at this stage in my life, I could use something that was fun.

So, that broke a barrier. In the end, it didn’t matter if I “re-gained” the proficiency I once had. I was going to pursue this regardless because, somewhere in the struggle I was having fun.

Now, I wrote above how I had tried to find someone who had a similar experience. Like I said, I did not find any other guitar players with the same specific set of circumstance. I did recall, however, some vague details of how Pat Martino had suffered a brain aneurysm and loss of memory. I wrote a little bit about Pat Martino last week maybe, with a sense that this long post was imminent.

In the back of my mind, not knowing the details of Martino’s story, I used him for inspiration. Looking back through the lens, I guess this was my thinking; Pat Martino, before his memory loss, was a very technically proficient guitar player. Somehow, he came through on the other end, again at a very high level. By the way, I don’t want to make Mr. Martino out to be a technician. I have always found him to be a very soulful player. His music has always hit me on an emotional level.

Also, I talk a lot about jazz guys here and I do so because the music of those that I write about hits me emotionally. I do not consider myself to be in the same neighborhood as any of these guys on a technique or theory level. I might cross the county line that the neighborhood is in but, I’m not on that street.

As I started to play guitar every day, I went through a lot of “phases”. I had to change my approach to the instrument. For a rock/blues/country type of player I always preferred heavy strings and high action. I like the tone of heavy strings. I play a Telecaster and, for the guitar players out there, I ran .012-.052. I was able to use the heavy strings and still execute the Albert King style bends with precision. It was a calling card of mine.

I experimented with lower action and lighter strings. I toyed with the idea of a different guitar or different neck to ease the work load. I eventually settled on slightly lower strings and lighter gagues (.011-.048).

I had a series of basic finger exercises, chromatic scale stuff, that I used to recommend to students. I would run these up and down the neck slowly every morning while drinking coffee. Up to the 12th fret and back four times before a cigarette, a reward system I guess.
I had real problems with the string bending but, my biggest trouble was with chords. Bar chords were the worst but actually any chords though.

My head was full of song ideas. I experimented with laying down simple demos. Sometimes, I would sit in front of the recorder over-night with an acoustic guitar punching in, chord by chord, to get 3-4 minutes of a progression to write a melody and lyrics too.

Around this time, I found an old copy of Ted Greene’s book, “Chord Chemistry”. He has some examples of his ideas for blues progressions at the back. They are difficult to finger and I would work on them for hours; playing through 12 bars slowly then, improvising a solo over the imagined changes for 12, back and forth. The thinking was that, if I could work these out then maybe I could someday play a D chord on a gig without embarrassment.

Now it has been roughly a year and a half since I first picked up the guitar again. This summer I was able to play gigs on a regular basis. These are four-set, club gigs and I am glad to have the endurance to do them. I’ve had my share of mishaps. There have been times that I know I didn’t sound good and people, being polite, said I did. One night, this summer, my left hand completely froze up for about five minutes then, I was able to finish the night.

All along this road, I have made an effort to practice on difficult things every day. Once again, thinking that if I somehow master this hard stuff, then going up on stage and playing a few rock and roll tunes should be a snap. So, really the bulk of my daily guitar routine amounted to exercise rather than playing. In an effort to gain facility on the instrument, it seems that I was purposely avoiding the fun aspect.

Some kind of psychological thing going on here, I’m sure. What I mean is, in my mind, if I approached the guitar as work rather than play, it would be easier to justify the time that I was spending on it.

It dawned on me that I had regained a lot of the strength and endurance. I also became aware that when I was playing live with the band, I was pulling my punches. There were a lot of times when I was playing it safe, avoiding maybe a string bend or a certain chord shape.

Then, I had a couple of occasions where I had the adrenaline going and without thinking, I would just play. That’s the real playing-when you are doing it without thinking about what you are going to do next.

I decided to try a little experiment. Every time I picked up the guitar, instead of working on exercises, I would play whatever came to mind; play for pure enjoyment. This was about three weeks ago. I pick up the guitar and just start playing, sometimes an hour will pass before I look up.

Around this same time, I read some things Pat Martino, once again, wrote about his process of coming back after the memory loss. Several times he mentioned using the guitar as a “favorite toy”, like he did when he was a child. He mentioned things about practicing what came natural rather than a series of rigid exercises. I am paraphrasing Mr. Martino here. He had a different set of circumstances; we all have a unique path but, I did sense a common thread.

My interpretation of that thread is, simply put, have fun with it.

The funny thing is, since I have adopted this approach, things are coming back to me fast. It is like a floodgate has been opened. I am starting to phrase things like “me” again. It’s almost like I have edited the thought process; I am getting back to where I play without consciously thinking of what I “need” to do. Strangely, even the elusive chords are getting easier; smoother transitions.

I’m not saying that I’m totally back to where I was but, I’m closer and closer. The great part is that playing is becoming more and more fun. As a result, I’m playing more than I was when approaching it as a daily task. If I have a few spare minutes, I pick up a guitar and have some fun.

I know that I had to do a lot of “exercising” to regain the strength that has allowed me to have this current experience. I feel that, doing what I’m doing now, is building strength, endurance and facility at a faster rate. At this point, more fun=more strength/endurance and more strength/endurance=more fun.

Not long ago, I had a conversation that has stayed with me. I was talking to a guy, another musician. Our relationship has been one filled with tension. I don’t really want to get into what I perceive is the source of the tension because, I truly don’t understand it so, anything I perceive is undoubtedly misconceived. I have made it a point to be outwardly friendly with this guy to try and get past this tension.

Back to the conversation. He knows of my situation with the M.S. and he asked me this; “Do you get mad at God because of what has happened”? The timing of the question was such that I was caught off guard. My answer was; “In truth I have felt bitter about it at times”.
He said one of those things that comes of as cliche like; “Everything happens for a reason”. I nodded and said; “Yeah I believe that”.

He said; “I don’t think you do, Jack. I think you’re just saying that to make me feel good but, I want you to know that I really do think you will, at some point, see this from a different angle”.

I’ve thought a lot about that conversation. As I said, I have always been outwardly polite with this guy; trying to keep things on the positive. I will say that he, on the other hand, at times, has been abrasive towards me.

We had a moment of clarity there. Whatever his reason for being abrasive, has nothing to do with the things that are important in life; the big picture. He knows that and I know that. We obviously don’t see things in the same way but, I was genuinely touched that he took the time to make it clear, in his way, that, whatever differences may be there, there is common ground.

I have been looking at things from a different angle. Maybe not in the way he was thinking but, because of what he said and how he said it; I started to question myself.

If another angle comes along, will my mind be open to take advantage of it?

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Another sunny “Autumn” day in the Ozarks.

Here’s a nice YouTube of Ted Greene doing an improvisation on “Autumn Leaves”. It matches up with the day here.

Ted is so cool. For some reason, I run into people who are surprised whenever I play something remotely jazz-like on the Telecaster. I think that thinking is, the Tele is meant for bright and twangy. The Tele does have more of a twang factor than any other guitar but, you get a pure rich note out of a good one. You can always roll off the highs. With other guitars, you sometimes feel the need to add highs in some rooms. That’s where you run into trouble. Adding highs with EQ is playing with fire.

Ted Greene, Mike Stern, Danny Gatton, Ed Bickert; all guys who play great jazz stuff on the Telecaster. I know there are many more; those guys come to mind quickly though. Ed Bickert, by the way, is one a lot of people don’t know. My old guitar teacher, Ron Roskowske, turned me on to Ed Bickert. Ron said that Bickert’s tone and voicings reminded him of a Fender Rhodes piano and I think that’s a pretty good description.

Our regular drummer, Gary Hodges couldn’t make it to the gig at the Double E in Highlandville last night. Gary had a gig in Branson that was booked earlier so, we asked Ron (Rongo) Gremp to sit in. Rongo’s regular gig is with Brian Capps and he is also a member of the infamous band The Morells. It’s quite a task for a drummer to walk in cold and play with a bunch of guys he’s never worked with before and a bunch of songs he’s never played before. Rongo pulled it off for sure. He is solid, solid. It was a lot of fun for me because I am improvising 99% of the solos and fills and with Ron back there I was coming up with different kinds of things. It’s like this, Gary is real good and Ron is real good but they are different and thus, a different musical conversation occurs. Ron said that trick is to “just stop thinking”. Zen Master Rongo.

Tonight, I will be at the Bearded Clam in Kimberling City playing an acoustic duo show with Mark Anthony. Stop by if you get a notion.

Next weekend, Back at the Double E.

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While having coffee this morning, I listened to “Canadian Sunset” from the Danny Gatton record “Redneck Jazz“. Gatton’s playing never fails to stun me. This particular track features Buddy Emmons on steel guitar as well. The two of these guys seemed to have a special musical interplay. It’s a nice piece of music. Emmons plays a lot of shimmering harmonic stuff on the head; very subtle, ethereal.

I made a trip to Branson yesterday to buy some jeans. I made an attempt to listen to music on the radio. Sometimes I will just keep hitting the seek button ’til something catches the jaded ear.

It occurs to me that in most every type of mainstream music; the drums sound boring to me. To me, if the drums are boring the rest of it will be boring as well.

Everything is “on the grid”.

In most music editing software, a recorded track is represented by a horizontal picture of a waveform that looks kind of like a fuzzy pickle.

Each instrument or voice has a different looking fuzzy pickle that is determined by the timbre, length, frequency and loudness of the notes being played or sung. The bass part is usually a fat fuzzy pickle, a flute part would normally be skinny. If you look at the computer screen as the music plays, the fuzzy pickles all dance and move and go by from left to right. They are stacked horizontally as well. 1 fuzzy pickle for each track you record.

So, you have all these fuzzy pickle moving horizontally and you also have vertical lines that appear. They correspond to the tempo of the song. The vertical lines are “the grid”. The grid is used for editing. If one of the fuzzy pickles is in the wrong place (if somebody sings/plays to soon or to late), you just move it to the correct vertical line on the grid.

In order to use the grid in this manner you must first establish a rigid tempo structure. Once you have the rigid tempo structure in place, you can have the humans play along with the rigid structure. You can have them play to beeps, clicks, groovy ersatz drum sounds any number of things.

The grid is not human. The grid works on principles of zero tolerance-zero variation of a basic pulse.

Once you have all of the fuzzy pickles placed in their proper spots on the grid, you can then start manipulating each one in a number of other ways in order to make the collective group of fuzzy pickles more pleasing to the discerning ear of the modern consumer. Some pickles are too loud, some too soft. Some go on too long, others aren’t long enough. Fuzzy pickles generated by humans are often a little out of tune; this can be corrected as well.

The main thing is to get them on the grid. The grid is useful for orgnization as well as manipulation of the fuzzy pickles.

The grid is everywhere. It is in places where you would expect, like techno, rap and hip-hop music. These are types of music where you wouldn’t necessarily expect to hear a human being playing drums. The grid is present in places where you would expect to hear a human playing drums too, like rock and roll, country, blues and jazz (especially “smooth” jazz).

The trick is to just have the human drummer aware of the grid while he is playing. You have the drummer play along with a version of the basic pulse that the grid is aligned to. If the human drummer is a little off in spots why, his fuzzy pickles can be moved around same as anybody else’s.

You can also have the drummer hit each drum and cymbal really well one time. The idea here is to get one really nice fuzzy pickle for each drum/cymbal, then you can copy/paste said fuzzy pickle and place it wherever you desire on the grid. If you use this method, you can avoid spending a lot of time with the actual drummer too. If you don’t like this drummers kick drum pickle, you can replace it with another pickle from another drummer. The possibilities are endless as long as you are on the grid.

As a result, some records that sound like there is drummer back there smacking away, don’t have an actual human playing at all. Nobody is actually hitting anything. It’s touch football.

The grid is here and it’s here to stay. Evidently, most people like the grid. People are accustomed to the grid. They are comfortable with the grid. If you took the grid away, it would cause unrest and possibly, chaos.

There are musicians, recording engineers and even record producers that resist the grid. There will always be a small percentage of those who do not wish to conform. The grid doesn’t worry about them; their numbers grow smaller, day by day.

The grid presses on without cease. Click Click Click Click………

The grid is digital, it knows no emotion, it will not falter. Click Click Click Click….

The grid will not succumb to mere forces of nature. Click Click Click Click………

The grid is all powerful. All knowledge is contained within the grid. CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

All hail the mighty grid. CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

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