Tick, tock, tick, tock...

I'm up to playing cleanly at 5 notes-per second (3 notes per beat, 100 beats per minute). Nothing to call CNN over, but a marked improvement from yesterday. Whaddya know, people who make their living knew what they were talking about when they endorsed the use of the metronome. Who would have thought?

Okay, it's time to make a reference point to work towards. A goal to shoot for. I load Paul Gilbert's lesson in the VCR. Armed with my trusty metronome, I time how quickly he blows through the exercise.

My metronome falls from hands now lifeless with despair. Over 12 notes per second. A metronome setting of 256 at 3 notes per beat. My God, the man is a human machine gun. My 5 notes per second now seems paltry at best, a feat a brain-damaged chimp with broken fingers could best. Mind you, Paul Gilbert is the king of shred guitar and getting to his level is no mean feat. Still, this is brutal.

Back to the grindstone.

My date with the Metro

Metronome, that is...

The favored tool of shredders everywhere, the metronome is a guitar god wanna-be's best friend, or so I have heard... Paul Gilbert, John Petrucci, Steve Vai. They all endorse the metronome as being essential to developing any kind of decent technique. When I played in the past, I never bothered with one, but if these guys swear by it that's good enough for me.

Time for some inspiration. I slap Paul Gilbert's "Intense Rock" lesson in the VCR. I pick the most basic alternate picking exercise and get to work...

Awful. Abominable. Wretched. And those were the highlights. When I took the trash out, one of the neighborhood squirrels gave me the finger. I can take a hint. I unplug from my amp for the duration of my practice session.

All told, at the end of the session, I am playing the four note passage at a sloth-like 3 notes-per-second cleanly (3 notes per beat, 60 beats per minute). It's vital when working with the metronome to work at a given pace until you can play the passage error-free for several reps before moving up in tempo. I'm trying to keep my ego in check and stick to clean playing for the sake of progress.

We'll see how tomorrow goes. If you don't see a post, it means the squirrels got to me on the way to my car. Send help.

My new toy arrives

What better way to get motivated for a new task than to buy a new toy related to said activity?

My new pickup arrived today. The DiMarzio Evolution 2 bridge pickup. Designed to Steve Vai's specs, this pickup is supposed to be the shiz-nit.

Quickly dismantling my Carvin DC127, I set about the task of soldering the new pickup in place. After some snipping, wire stripping, swearing, inhaling of fumes that can't possibly be healthy, tears, more swearing and some shielding, the new pickup is in and ready to go.

With the scent of burned flesh still wafting in the air and the imaginary spiders crawling up the walls from breathing lead fumes in a confined space fading, I plug in...

Carvin DC 127, replete with DiMarzio Evolution 2? Check.
Marshall AVT100 Amp? Check.
Digitech GNX Multi-Effects Unit? Check.
Fresh Strings? You betcha.

A power chord rips out into the night. Somewhere, a neighborhood dog silently wishes he had opposable thumbs so he could wrap his tiny lips around a revolver and end the suffering. Alas, I still suck...

I guess this might actually take some practice.

For the love of God, I suck...

At least, that was my grim assessment after returning to the guitar after an extended layoff... Sidelined due to a repetitive use injury in my left wrist (insert masturbation joke here, in case you missed your cue), I decided to take another stab at it after letting my wrist heal up.

Due mostly to poor form and improper care (WARM-UP's? I don't need no steen-king warm-up's), the injury started to show itself after about 14 years of playing. Between working with computers all day, playing guitar, lifting weights and practicing martial arts my wrist was taking a beating and something had to go... Since I'm not fond of the taste of cat food I thought it would be best to keep my job working with computers. And giving up exercise would be the express train to Tubbytown, so the guitar had to go.

Which brings me to my present situation. I'm horrible... Gone are the glorious days of the scale run, the arpeggio, the alternate picking madness of yore. Hell, I'd be happy to get through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star without it sounding like beating a sack full of cats against a set of bagpipes.

And so here you will find my day to day struggle with getting back into guitar, probably interspersed with numerous sidebars about the geeky, the inane and the completely pointless.

To be continued...