Tag: banjo

Twas the Night Before Lessons

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Twas The Night Before Lessons

By: Deana O’Hara

Twas the night before lessons and all through the house,
I start praying to the gods of blue grass:
Scruggs, Watson & Krauss
I’ve played all the rolls
both forward and back
but no matter how hard I try
this new song
it’s still whack.
It’s easy he said
What a lie.
What a ruse.
Instead of grassing,
I’m singing the blues.
He’ll listen
He’ll wince
He’ll encourage
and smile.
He’ll keep me as a student
at least for a while.
Teach has the patience
of good old Saint Nick.
Even if he makes me cut my nails
to the quick.
You’ll get it.
Keep trying
He say’s through the tears.
Once you start playing,
you’ll be grassing for years.

In Search of my brain

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Friday Funny: Tales From The Music Room

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Friday Funny: My Brain on Drugs

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Photo Credit: David McLaughlin

My Brain, My Banjo and Me

Deana2 Comments

It’s all about perspective — I told my son last night that I was going outside to work on sucking less at playing my banjo (aka practice) and he looked at me and said, “Mom you play that thing better than everyone in this house – including Dad and he’s a musician. You don’t have the right to say you suck at something when you are better than all of us. Just sayin.” — Man I love that kid.

I’m a horrible perfectionist. I used to think a perfectionist did everything perfectly or at least near perfect. It took me years to learn that being a perfectionist is a demand rather than an outcome. The self-inflicted demand is more often than not the root of a stink weed of a memory and/or fear of abandonment.

I don’t like doing things I can’t do well and if I can’t do it well enough to suit myself, the old me just didn’t keep trying. I didn’t see the reward in trying again. While riding horses last year, I learned that I’d have great days of riding as well as days of great humility. Some days Cowboy did exactly what I asked and other days he just wanted to jack with me.

Learning the banjo is no different. Some days I nail it, some days my picks trip up the strings and my fingers can’t remember their assigned places. On days like that, I have learned to take a deep breath, relax my shoulders and try again.

For those of you who’ve been around all year you know that my word for the year is “breathe.” Oxygen does wonders for a negative brain.  As simple-minded as it may sound breathing in the good and breathing out the negative works wonders.

I gave up horseback riding so that I can afford banjo lessons. While I miss riding, I do love the banjo. Playing is a different skill set entirely and yet the lessons are the same. Sit tall, be confident, keep it fun and BREATHE.

Friday Funny: I am up a Creek

Deana1 Comment

Yes, I play the banjo. Ever since I opened my book and saw Cripple Creek, I couldn’t wait to get there.

I’m ready for slides, pull offs and hammers. I do not read music, I pick out songs – granted I have tabs but still…

I’ve been singing all week —

When I get off of this mountain
You know where I want to go
Straight down the Mississippi river
To the Gulf of Mexico

I just figured out that THIS is the song I thought I was learning:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDnlU6rPfwY

and in reality, I am supposed to be learning THIS song”

Which leaves me here at the moment.

The Melody of Life

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“The banjo is such a happy instrument–you can’t play a sad song on the banjo – it always comes out so cheerful.” –Steve Martin

I can have a horrible week.

A heart breaking, nothing goes right, things break, family crisis, gut pulling kind of week.

A run away from home, lock myself in a cabin by the cove and play banjo for two days straight and question my sanity kind of week.

Then I walk into my banjo lesson and my instructor breaks down the songs, gets me laughing my butt off, reveals deeps secrets of the musical universe (Don’t force it. Don’t rush, you have all the time you need. Pay attention to the important things. Don’t forget to have fun.) and my soul is happy again because we’re playing a banjo and I can hear the melody.

A lot of us who do comedy for a living think we need a stage to help people feel better. That isn’t always the case. The day-to-day interactions we have with others can have a profound impact. He helped me remember that even with all its twangs, missed notes, thuds and buzzes, the melody of life can still be heard and that is a glorious thing.

Perfectionism is self hatred in disguise.

Deana10 Comments

I would rather be naked than let you see me learn the banjo. That says a lot. I don’t do naked well. (Think Bob the tomato). Learning something new while people watch is apparently worse.

I call it being an introvert.

My husband calls it being a perfectionist.

Either way, I don’t like people seeing me or hearing me try something new until I master it.

The problem with that?

Life isn’t meant to be lived in a vacuum.

Truth is, I’ll let my husband see me naked, but I won’t let him sit out on the porch while I practice my banjo. For some reason I feel more vulnerable playing the banjo than I do in the nude.

Refusing to let my husband (he’s a professional musician on weekends) hear me play robs him of the joy of music.

I knew my anxiety level had reached an all time high when not only did I not want my husband to hear me play the banjo, I couldn’t play for my teacher either.

When we first started out with lessons — in May, I’d get so nervous that I made my instructor nervous.

That’s rough.

My husband finally offered me his great wisdom.

“This isn’t the Opry, it’s our back porch. Now lighten up and have fun already.”

I’ve been having a lot of fun since he said that. When I get frustrated (like I am tonight) I remind myself that I started playing the banjo on May 25 2012 and I missed three lessons in June because of traveling. So really, I’ve only been playing for four weeks. In those four weeks, I have learned chords, how to tune a banjo, how to read tabs, four basic rolls and now I’m learning slides.

My husband does not think less of me because I haven’t mastered this yet.

My instructor (who has been playing guitar for 40 and banjo for 3 years) does not think less of me because I’m not as good as he is.

Fact: I sing in the chorus of the second longest running presentation of Handel’s Messiah in the US. Have since 2000. I cannot read a lick of music. I’ve memorized the entire piece. That takes talent.

Learning how to create music brings me joy and will help me become a better songwriter.

Hating myself because I have the unrealistic expectation of mastering something over night (like slides) is ridiculous.

This isn’t the Opry.

It’s my back porch.

I hereby give myself permission to not be great while I learn with the knowledge that every time I try, I will get better.

What new thing are you trying to learn right now?

Are you willing to be kind to yourself while you learn?