Merry Christmas. You know what makes a good holiday story? Humiliation. The kind that teaches you something.
I can think of two gigs that destroyed my ego so completely I’m still learning from them. Both happened around 1983. Both taught me the same lesson: thinking you’re great doesn’t make you great.
Jazz Band 101
I was at Pierce College in LA, sports medicine major, needed an elective. I’d been playing guitar since I was seven. By 1983, I was good. Or at least I thought I was. So I signed up for Jazz Band 101.
First day was auditions. I watched the current band play. They were solid, but I wasn’t worried. I could read chord charts. This would be easy.
Then they called me up.
What I thought were chord charts weren’t chord charts. They were rhythm changes. Knowing what I know now, it was standard shit. Common 32-bar jazz progression derived from “I Got Rhythm.” AABA form. I-vi-ii-V sequences. Circle of fifths in the bridge. There was a basic melody written out.
I knew something about reading, but I couldn’t sight read really.
I’d heard the other people play it during the audition, so I figured my ears could fake it. They couldn’t. I froze. Completely froze. Just stood there while the rhythm section vamped waiting for me to start.
I didn’t get in.
The Zappa Cover Band Audition
Same year, maybe a few months later. I auditioned for a Frank Zappa cover band. I’d jammed with Zappa in ‘78. This should be easy, right?
I drove my 1964 Studebaker Super Lark to the audition. Wish to hell I still had that car. Less than 100 ever made. Didn’t know that at the time. I pulled into the driveway to turn around, and backed up into a car. No damage, but when I walked in carrying my guitar and amp, my hands were shaking. Couldn’t get them to stop.
I met the drummer and keyboard player. Started setting up my gear. My fingers felt disconnected from my brain, like they belonged to someone else.
Then the keyboard player brought over a music stand and placed the first chart in front of me.
Note city. Every single note written out. Zappa’s music, transcribed.
I screwed it up. Completely. He brought over a “simpler” piece. I screwed that up too.
I don’t remember if I left on my own or if they politely told me I wasn’t the guy. Either way, I was gone pretty quick.
What I Learned
You can be pretty damn good at your niche and still be worthless outside of it. Just because you like something doesn’t mean you can play it.
And learn to read.
I know. You non-readers out there, especially guitarists, you’ve got your reasons. “Reading kills your feel.” “I play by ear.” “Tab is enough.”
Fine. Enjoy playing the same songs over and over. Unless you’re a savant, that’s where you’ll stay.
Me? I went to music school after those disasters. Met Dick Grove. Learned to read. Am I a better player now? Yeah, I am. But more importantly, I’m a better musician.
There’s a difference.
Merry Christmas. Go practice your sight-reading. And learn other styles, even if you aren’t great at them. It will open your eyes to things you didn’t know existed.
I’ll also write about why putting down your instrument can make you a better player. But that’s for another day.