I can barely type right now.
Most of the small group who reads this blog know that I used to be a bassist of some small local renown. I wasn't Flea, but I got called pretty regularly. Those days are gone, and I'm really ok with that. Still, I got a few licks left in me, and I play as much as I can.
I had no idea how depressed I was going to make myself when I set down to play this evening. I got a little Digitech BP 200 bass effects thing I use as a practice amp. My wife must love it, because she never hears me practice. So, tonight I put on the headphones and throw down a bit of the funk. And no, not some weak NKOTB, KISS FM funk. I mean some booga in tha nose, mornin' breath smellin' all day long, nasty 'ole stinky stank FUNK. Slappin' an Syncopatin'. I was pleased.
I dunno, I guess I got cocky. The BP 200 has a little 8th inch jack in for jamming along with an external audio source. So I plug in the iPod and I'm scrolling through when I come across a line that says "Iron Maiden: Best of the Beast (UK)". Now, mind you, I did this ALL... DAY... LONG... in high school. So I say "Bring it!" and press play.
Dude... it was totally brung. Two songs. TWO SONGS and my forearm is screaming like a kid in day camp. (The Clairvoyant and The Trooper for those who know and care). I used to play Steve Harris' galloping triplets for HOURS, and now I wimp out after two songs. I feel like an old man. I AM an old man.
Well, I certainly remember what I admired about the guy. I'm not really comfortable recommending Iron Maiden in terms of content. But, I gotta give props to Steve Harris. His right hand is KING.
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And that's enough for now.
Brian Norwood
Platypi Online: The Platypus Portal
1 comments:
I feel your pain, my friend. We were jamming on some old school Metallica at church the other day. Now, to be fair, I never was able to get thru "One" the Hetfield way (all downstrokes), but I can't even play the thing in alternating strokes anymore.
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