The past two nights have been all about the tools. A new version of Logic would mean plenty of exploration even if this weren’t such a guitar heavy release. What’s killing me is that all of the features that were added are aimed straight at me. I can sit for hours and tweak this parameter or that and get totally lost in the sounds of my guitar. It’s a sensation that is loaded down with heavy memories.
When I was in high school, I managed to save up enough money to purchase a new Fender Stratocaster (American, thankyouverymuch!). It’s black with a white pickguard and a rosewood fretboard. Note the verb tense of that last sentence. It’s still in my studio and will be until the unthinkable comes to pass. In fact, changing out the pickups and electronics is on my winter to do list. That guitar was a turning point for me. It opened up a world of sounds. At the time, I had access to an early 70s vintage Fender Twin amp with the old spring reverb unit. My mom worked, so in the winter when the sun was setting early, I would sit in the basement after school with the last light of the day streaming through the window and play until my fingers hurt or I heard the garage door go up.
Technically, things were much simpler then. I had so few stomp boxes (maybe two?) and the amp itself had little more than EQ, poor grounding, and that reverb unit. But the sounds I could make were astonishing to me even then. There was such subtlety in the range of every pot on the amp. The differences between levels on different pickup settings. The art of blending them together. Searching for my sound was deep research; a mission.
That’s where I ended up last night. There’s the cute ability in Logic now to lay out a pedal board with all sorts of festively designed interfaces. It’s intuitive, quick, and as addictive as having all of those boxes on the floor at my feet. I sat and twisted this knob and that, always listening for the shifts in balance and tone. For that breaking point where the sound comes together and becomes the physical manifestation of my imagination. But rather than hit record and do something that would move the current track forward, I sat and played for a good hour. Not a bit was recorded. This is why I’ll likely stay the hell away from Mainstage. I could get lost in there!
It was beautiful. The guitar was sounding good as the sun went down. I forgot to turn on the lights and when I looked up, time was gone, it was dark, and everything felt right. It reminded me that those are the moments that encouraged me to become a musician. It was never the time spent on stage or performing in any capacity. It was the time alone in the studio. The meditative nature of practicing. Living in the sound and allowing the moment to be whatever it turned out to be. It’s not the kind of thing that can be shared, I don’t think. That’s sad on the one hand, but on the other, we have to admit that some of the great moments of life are spent discovering things in some kind of isolation. That flow should be embraced and celebrated.
