Monday, 24 March 2014

I Got The Blues (from the archive)

I treated myself to a new G-string yesterday. It’s good to have a back up just in case the one you’re using snaps.  As I went to leave the guitar shop I spied a Fender just like the one Hendrix used to play.  Foolishly I asked to try it out.

Hairy Music Dude asked me what style I play.  I should have said, “Oh I’m really only starting out.  I haven’t got the hang of it yet”.  But, flattered by the suggestion that I might actually be a guitarist, I fell into character, shrugging nonchalantly and claiming, “I just like to see where the music takes me, man”.

I knew I was doomed.  Hairy Music Dude now presumed I was some sort of blues legend.  The truth is that last week I nearly took my eye out when I flicked a plectrum into my own face and almost broke my wrist attempting to play an F.  I knew I’d be rumbled as soon as I started strumming.  There was only one thing for it: I had to go Total Blues.

“I play blindfold!”  I declared, tying a scarf round my face, “and take three of these strings off.  I play it pure.”  Then I started hammering away like a man possessed whilst belting out a stream of blues inspired lyrics covering all the obligatory themes: boozing, brawling, trains, women and figure skating.  My performance lasted six hours.

When finally I ran out of steam, I put the guitar down and untied the scarf to find that I was alone, the lights were off and the shop was closed.  Hairy Music Dude had stuck a post-it note to my forehead.  It said: ‘You’re shit’.  I wrote one back.  It said: ‘Your guitar is out of tune and you need a haircut’, and I left with my pride intact.

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