Guitars, Dames & Quarantine Creativity
This is a story about learning to play guitar during quarantine.
In the summer of 1988, home after freshman year of college, I signed up for a group guitar class through the local parks and rec. I was crazy about music and musicians, and thought it would be a fun thing to do. The class was a bit boring, but the instructor singled me out, and said I was a natural after a few lessons. I blossomed under his compliments. The whole class went to one of his shows at the local dive bar. He said I would be up on stage within a year. Then he offered to drive me home after, and I got uncomfortable with his attention. He was singling me out for other reasons. I stopped going to class after that. For reasons I have written about before, I have a bad habit of rethinking my competence when stuff like this happens. Meaning I immediately discounted any kind words he had given before.
Was I a natural? Would I have gone on to play well? Well, who knows. The point is, I quit. Because I didn’t want to deal with his interest. Yet another in a long list of compromises I have made in an attempt to manage some guy’s feelings.
Fast forward more than 30 years. I’m 52. I’ve worked in the tech industry for years, often the only woman in a meeting. I married a musician I met at a show (that same summer as guitar lessons!). With a pandemic sweeping the world, extra time on my hands from not commuting, and a fierce fire inside me from years of squashing my own hopes and dreams in order to better fit into a world that doesn’t value me, I had an epiphany. I would pick up where I left off. Inspired partly by Joyce Maynard’s tale of returning to Yale after she dropped out because of some guy, and also by my badass friend Emily who was taking lessons, I got started. As Emily rightly pointed out, we knew a LOT of guitarists who were really really good. And some of them are also kinda dumb. Why not give it a shot ourselves? I borrowed Emily’s Silvertone, we got it restrung by our friend Bradley who was nothing but encouraging, and signed up for private Skype lessons with amazing guitarist (and new friend) Chris Brokaw.
This is a tale of two middle-aged dames sticking the finger to the patriarchy by learning to play the guitar. Instead of chasing guys with guitars, we’re going to be the chicks with guitars. Maybe only in our own living rooms, but whatever. For me, it’s a form of therapy. Trying to get comfortable with something that doesn’t come naturally, and to accept that I won’t necessarily be good at everything I try. This is not easy for me — at all.
Along the way, I stumbled on a really great marketing tactic by iconic American guitar brand Fender. They were offering three free months of online lessons during quarantine. I signed up, and discovered an amazing community. A private Facebook group with 49,000 people, many of them on the great downhill slide of life, lots of them women, learning to play during shelter in place. Supporting and lifting each other up. And buying gear! So. Much. Gear.
What is it about learning guitar that makes you insanely, hungrily, greedily in need of new gear? I supplemented the borrowed Silvertone with a cheap Starcaster Strat I got off a neighbor as a temporary solution until stores opened. As I write this, I am eagerly awaiting the arrival of my very own vintage ’64 Silvertone to replace the one I borrowed. A guitar that a new guitarist has no business owning, but whatever, bitchaz. The temporary black Starcaster is going to become the Sisterhood of the Traveling Strat — I’m passing it on to another middle aged dame who wants to learn, with the only condition that she also pass it on when she’s ready to upgrade. But first, I found a guy who will do a set-up and lower its action for me. Don’t know what that means? Neither did I, but I learned. And wrote a song called “Lower the Action” which is not about guitars.
Fender Play is incredibly supportive. I think it needs to be studied by science — an online community that lifts people up rather than tears them down. I posted a video playing a Lemonheads song (did I mention my instructor plays with Evan Dando?), one of my first attempts to play while standing (gah). At last count, I have more than 300 likes and tons of supportive comments, including from the Fender Play instructors themselves.
The only annoyance is the frequency of comments along the lines of “My wife is gonna kill me for buying another guitar”. Things got a little riled up when someone (a guy, an ally) called people on it. Said it was outdated and misogynistic. YES. Wow, the pile-on was not pretty to witness. I blocked and reported like a mad 8 year old playing whack-a-mole. Then I addressed it the way I usually deal with stuff like this: with humor. I posted a video. Of me playing AND singing. I redid the words to a favorite song admonishing the people of Fender to pay attention and be respectful to the women in the group. Spoiler: I rhymed “song” and “dong”. And I got nothing but support back. Job done.
So here we are. Guitar was like a gateway drug, leading to more new hobbies. Emily and I began studying songwriting in an informal class with our friend and former colleague Anu, and writing our own (admittedly primitive, but authentic!) songs. Estro-punk! (sample lyric from Feminist with a Hangup: “This sister can do it for herself. But while I’m doing it, I really need you to hang that shelf”. Earlier efforts like “I Need a Major D to Teach me D Major” never really got off the ground). And because one can’t demo one’s new song without singing it, singing classes started too. It’s a quarantine spring of creativity, and it feels special. Because it’s only for me. This may be the only thing in my life that I’m doing not to earn money for the family, or to guide and raise my daughters, or as a favor to others … it’s just for me. And for that, I’m grateful every single day.
I am a type A personality, which means I get very frustrated with myself if I’m not perfect at first try. My husband is a professional musician, and after a few attempts to play together, and having him put a bass track on one of my songs, I quickly realized I was better off keeping things separate. (No one can say I slept my way to the top! Or the middle. Or the bottom. Shoot, I’ve slept my way to the bottom). My singing will at best be called interesting. But that’s not the point! The point is that we are DOING THIS. Bitchaz.
I’ve made new friends, I’ve strengthened bonds with current friends, and I’ve demystified the whole thing. And I have a newfound appreciation for anyone who can play well while making it look like breathing. All of you — you know who you are.
So try something outside of your comfort zone. Give something creative a shot — even if you already think you aren’t going to be good at it. Then write down the lessons you learned from the experience. Mine are below.
I’d write more, but I gotta run. I need to practice.
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Things I’ve learned from learning to play the guitar:
- It doesn’t matter whether you’re good. It matters whether you’re enthusiastic. This applies to so many things … creative endeavors, housecleaning, and sex to name a few.
- Practice. It’s so obvious, but this is where it’s at. All those people who make it look as easy as breathing? They PRACTICED. Every day. My husband plays for hours each day. Can you squeeze out 10 minutes a day? Sure you can. And soon you’ll really want to.
- A damsel with a guitar in distress is irresistible. Want attention? Try asking how to master the G to C transition on an online guitar forum. (Maybe it’s anti-feminist to want attention — so sue me)
- On the flip side, want to bring out the big swinging d****? Ask what guitar you should buy. Watch out for the gearheads. Full disclosure: we did venture out to Guitar Center one day after it reopened, and found our sales guy refreshingly helpful (giving credit where it’s due).
- Keep a firm yet gentle grip and don’t flail your hand around. This advice works for all sorts of situations, including the one I just made you think of. Work on your rhythm. Use a metronome. Well, maybe not for that.
- And the most important one — cultivate a love of learning for its own sake. It’s about the journey. Get over your fear of not being good at something. If you only do things you’re good at, you’re not stretching far enough.
- Women with guitars rock. The end.
