Michael Engberg: News

I decided to be ultra-cautious (in the wake of the two recent winter storms that had hit Colorado in as many weeks), and I left Denver at about 2pm for Breckenridge. My New Year's Eve gig at Beaver Run Ski Resort wasn't until 5:30, but I wanted plenty of time, in case of any unforeseen difficulties. As it is, the trip up the hill (as it were) was a pretty uneventful thing. I got to Beaver Run with some 90 minutes (at least) to unload gear, park the car, and set up for the gig. So I was able to work at a somewhat leisurely pace.
They had me set up in a slightly different place (in front of a new, wide, flat-screen tv), and I had one new item: a CD-display case that one of my students had fashioned for me (complete with fold-out legs, that allowed me to elevate the entire case to about three feet or so off the ground; a bit easier for folks to look over the product). And for this particular gig, I'd brought along a goblet made of green, translucent glass (with a pewter dragon design on it) to serve as a recepticle for tips. I set the "tip-goblet" in a corner of the CD display case, just to the other side of my guitar stand (all just a bit to my right).
I still had a bit of time on my hands, so I went wandering around the upper floor of the resort, where they had a bit of an apres-ski thing going on in the ballroom (while their usual club for such activities is currently undergoing renovations). I ordered a hot dog and made the fatal mistake of failing to ask the price before hand. The "chef" handed me the hotdog, at which point the cashier told me that would be $5! Ah, the inflated prices of ski resort food!
After finishing this "gourmet" hotdog, I went back down to Spencer's (the restaurant where I would be playing for some five hours) and started tuning up and getting ready to go. Within five minutes of my first set, one of the incoming diners (a teenage girl, with her head turned to chat with her mom) managed to run into my CD-display case, causing the goblet to fall crashing to the floor (Murphy's Law, of course). One of the busboys proceeded to sweep up all the broken glass, while I moved the CD-display case a little closer to me (and hopefully, a bit more out of harm's way), and borrowed a water glass from the bar to serve as the tip jar (which is what I'd always used in the past; tradition has its own way of asserting itself, I suppose).
The table nearest me was soon filled with three families: one British, one Austrian, and one Columbian ('don't know how it is they all knew each other, but they did). The children from the three families got on very well together, with the exception of one child (named John, from what I could overhear), who seemed in a somewhat sour and contrary mood. Eventually, his parents would separate him from the group (when he started to throw something of a tantrum).
Meanwhile, two little girls at the table (and another little boy) were requesting Christmas songs. Now, of course, I had thought that I would be done with the Christmas repertoire at this point, and had left my ring-binder/fakebook of Christmas tunes back home (Murphy's Law again, of course). Fortunately, I could pick something out by ear that didn't sound too awful, and satisfied the little girls (and the rest of the customers, luckily).
About midway through the first set, a gentleman approached me: a Dr. Wade. Apparently he owns some property in Breckenridge (perhaps at Beaver Run Resort itself), and they celebrate Christmas and New Year's Eve there every year. He remembered hearing some of my playing last year, so he pressed $10 into my palm and asked if I would come 'round to the private dining room and play for his party there. Well, sure; I was happy to do so. As it turns out, he was a rather congenial and generous host in his own right. He bought two of my CD's, invited me to come out to Georgia to visit sometime, and pressed another tip into my palm as I went back to the main dining room. At first I thought it was another ten-spot, but it turned out to have another zero to the figure (a good tip, indeed!). This was turning into a pretty interesting evening.
Meanwhile the two little girls at the table closest to me decided that my guitar-playing was just the thing with which to practice their ballet lessons. There was a space in the dining room that afforded them some room to dance (even so, I was a little nervous that they might get a bit carried away, and fall into my music stand, or something). But it all ended well.
When it was time for them to go, these two little girls each stuffed some money into the tip jar (courtesy of their parents, of course). I invited each of them to give me a high-five. Then there was John (the young boy with a bit of a contrary mood this evening). I invited him to a high-five as well, and he slapped my hand with every bit as much strength and aggression as he could muster. His father was a little surprised, and concerned that I might take offense. I shrugged it off, however, and said it was no big deal (not the least of which because to react in any other way would have given the young lad a satisfaction I did not wish to grant him).
All in all, it was a good gig. I can't remember how many years I've been playing New Year's Eve at Spencer's now; at least five, I think. Maybe more. 10:30 rolled around, and I was done for the night. As I was packing up, one of the managers gushed a bit, telling me of all the compliments the staff had received on my playing. And I am glad to hear that, of course. 'Looks like I am likely to be back again next year.
Actually the manager hinted (with little enough subtlety) that I would be most welcome to play on Thanksgiving as well, were I willing to do so. Although the money might be a bit tempting, I have a steadfast commitment to spend Thanksgiving with my family in Iowa. And seeing as how they put up with the fact that they haven't seen me for Christmas in years, I feel the least I can do is keep the Thanksgiving tradition firmly in place.
Still, feeling satisfied with a job well done, I loaded my guitar and gear in the car and made my way "down the hill", back to Denver (keeping the speed a bit on the slow side, and watching out for any patches of ice). Fortunately, the return trip was blissfully boring; no road hazards, and a safe enough journey home.
While driving, I did the natural thing for this time of year: I thought of New Year's resolutions. Some of them are carried over from last year (or a few previous years, in some cases). I am overdue to sell my old comic book collection, so I mean to do something about that. And I want to finish that novel I keep talking about. And I have a ton of new music to do: a new CD (or two, or three), and composing some new works. In short, there is plenty to keep me busy. Really, I have a hard time trying to understand people who get bored. I never have the time for boredom, myself.
And so, to anyone (and everyone) who might chance upon this blog, I wish a very happy and fortunate New Year. May 2007 bring you great joy and prosperity.

Peace,

Michael

Anyway you look at it, six hours of classical guitar is a long gig.
I have been playing the Christmas Day Buffet at the Beaver Run ski resort (in Breckenridge) for about five years, now (or is it six, or seven years?...it's all starting to blur, really). It has always been one of the longest gigs I am called upon to play. In previous years, it was five hours, which was still a good, long gig. This year, the folks at Beaver Run asked if I might be willing and able to add an extra hour. And since they're paying me more to play more (and being the musical whore that I can be), I said sure.
And I managed well enough. I mixed in various Christmas songs between standard classical guitar repertoire ("Silent Night" followed by an Aguado etude; and I alread do "Greensleeves" and "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" as a sort of medley, and "Greensleeves" does double duty as "What Child Is This").
The buffet is a most impressive thing. There are long tables set at various intervals around the outer perimeter of the conference hall, featuring just about anything and everything anyone has ever thought of having for Christmas dinner. They put me in the middle of the hall, on a stage, in front of an ice sculpture (a reindeer, this year), and surrounded by four long tables of desserts. There are cream puffs and cakes, and pies and tarts and tortes, and candies and creme brulee. I just sit there in the middle of it all, playing my guitar, and I get a sugar high just by inhaling.
But I have to admit that, after six hours, my hands were most tired. I also had a bit of a sore knot on the left side of my neck (from sitting in the standard classical guitar posture for so many hours). I would stretch a bit during the breaks (and I got to enjoy the buffet during the breaks, as well), but it was still a long and tiring gig.
Then I packed up two guitars (a steel-string and a nylon string), two amplifiers, a music stand, an amplifier stand, a gig bag and a CD-display box, and hauled it all (in two trips) down to the van, and headed back down the mountain to Denver.
The trip back to Denver was uneventful, but I took my time; watching out for any patches of ice along the way. As most of the nation has heard, Colorado had been hit with a good dose of snow in the week preceding Christmas (and, as I write this latest blog entry, another storm is dumping on us, as well). The roads were clear enough, but there were gust of wind blowing streams of snow across the highway, which can be a bit disorienting.
It took two hours of steady, alert driving. I got home by about 11:30pm, and by that time I was most tired. I spent almost all of Tuesday in bed; sleeping for the most part, interspersed with reading a book (a werewolf fantasy, written by my friend, Carrie Vaughn). I got up in time to grab a shower and meet some friends for a movie by the time evening rolled around (we watched Borat; I'll have to comment on that some other time, perhaps).
So, as I already mentioned, the next big storm is already upon us. My main concern is that I am supposed to return to the Beaver Run resort to play on New Year's Eve. I only hope the roads are clear enough, come Sunday.

It actually starts shortly after Thanksgiving. This is one of the busier times of the year for musicians, and I got back from spending Thanksgiving in Iowa with my family and hit the ground running.
Actually, the trip back from Iowa was a pleasant adventure in itself. Over the years, I have formed the tradition of taking the train out to Iowa for Thanksgiving. The roads through Nebraska can be somewhat unpredictable and treacherous at that time of the year, so the train is an easier way to go. I prefer not to fly (I can still probably count the number of times I've flown on my two hands); not out of some fear for my personal safety, but for the hassle it is taking along one of my guitars (they frequently will not allow it as carry-on, and there are numerous horror stories of guitars being checked as luggage, to never be seen again, or to reach their destination in several pieces).
The train is a good time: I stow my suitcase, and take my guitar and backpack into the lounge car, where I tend to spend almost the entire trip. I will read a bit, and do some playing, and it generally works out quite well.
The return trip from Iowa was classically fine in this respect. I read the newspaper for about an hour, then got out my guitar and began to play. I actually got applause from the other passengers, and one family insisted on buying me some wine (a few glasses, actually). That is infinitely preferable to braving the winter storms that can sweep across the highways of Nebraska this time of year.
December, then, gets rather hectic. It is the end of the semester, with final exams to give at the college, and various Christmas parties to play. For the 5th (or 6th?) year, I will be playing the Christmas Dinner Buffet at the Beaver Run ski resort. It is a wonderful buffet: anything and everything that anyone has ever dreamed of having for Christmas dinner seems to be represented on one of the several tables lining the walls of the dining hall. I am placed in the center of the room, in front of an ice sculpture, and surrounded by four tables of various desserts (tortes and tarts, cakes and candies and pastries of all sorts). It's a tough job, I tell you!
Actually, it IS a long job. In the past I have been booked to play 5 hours, and this year they asked if I might go for 6 (a long bout of classical guitar, to be sure). And I think I might actually have some 6 hours of repertoire (between Christmas Carols, classical guitar repertoire and other stuff). This is a mild boast, I suppose. But more important: I don't like to repeat myself for the sake of the wait-staff. Sure, the diners come and go and change over, but (having been a waiter once or twice) I know how tiring it can be to hear the same tunes repeated over and over again. I try to avoid that.
In between the gigs, the classes, and the lessons (and a couple of student recitals), I am trying to work up new repertoire; especially for Duo Serenade (with flutist, Laura Schulkind) and the Con Brio Consort (with Laura and violinist Julia Hays). We are trying on some ambitious stuff, there.
The fall semester at Arapahoe College will be finished by this time next week, and I hope I might find some time over the holiday break to do a bit more composing and writing, as well (and perhaps be a bit better at updating this blog, as well). I also hope to find a bit of time to catch up with friends (there are several I haven't seen in awhile, and they may be wondering if I've fallen off the face of the earth, at this point).
Finally, Many Hats Recordings is in the midst of putting together an anthology of some of my fingerstyle-guitar recordings to make available for digital download, and I hope that may be ready in the near future, as well.
So allow me a moment to catch my breath. And I'll try to be back with an updated blog entry... soon.

Although I am a faithful person, it has been sometime (not since my childhood) that I have regarded God as some patriarchal figure that hands down blessings and punishment. But if God were to look like Ricardo Iznaola.....
Ricardo has a kind face framed by a mane of silvery hair and a trimmed goatee (I have heard more than one admiring female fan describe him as a "hottie"). He has a ready sense of humor, with a quick, mischievous gleam in his eye. And he is a formidable combination of virtuoso guitarist, masterful composer, and one of the most insightful teachers that I have ever had the pleasure of working with.
I have been taking private guitar lessons with Ricardo for over 7 years now. There is no question that his tutelage has done much to help me improve in my technique, as well as my overall musical growth.
My latest lesson was just a couple of days ago. Ricardo is not above the occasion teasing jab to make a point.
"Your right hand is too inefficient, too wasteful of energy and effort. In other words, you are like the federal government."
Ouch.
It really doesn't matter whether I feel truly prepared or hopelessly inept prior to the next lesson (although I try very hard to be as prepared as possible), Ricardo will still find plenty to observe in my playing, and have much to say to spur me onward.
One of the main lessons is attention, and in this spirit Ricardo practices a form of "zen guitar" The ideal is to have an extremely focused awareness of the immediate moment, whether in practice or in performance. Many times he has revealed how my lack of attention has led to the return of old (and bad) habits.
If I am not paying sufficient attention, or I allow myself to become so caught up in just "learning the notes", my hands can fall back into old postures and habits, and the inefficiency and tension returns with dire results.
This last lesson, we concentrated on the right hand, and keeping the fingers close to the strings, the middle joints bent and flexed.
"It is as if you were running, or riding a bike, and you wish to go faster," explained Ricardo. "To go faster, to be more efficient and reduced wind resistance, you crouch lower and make all your movements more compact."
I am still riding on the energy of this most recent lesson, which is a common effect for me. For at least some days afterward, I will practice with a higher level of attention and awareness. My practicing will assume even more of a meditative quality, or the guitar equivalent of kata (the sets of movements that karate students will dutifully run, over and over, to perfect their particular art).
There are times that I can almost succumb to a measure of frustration, or even despair. In a perfect world, I would have been practicing these ideas and techniques some 30 years ago. But he reminds me that such thinking does no good at all. There is only the present moment, and he insists that from now on, I have the opportunity to master my playing, and achieve viruosity. He demonstrates a faith that, with consistent effort (and attention, and awareness), viruosity is still possible.
And I would not want to disappoint.

The Rose Weaving Gallery and Studio is one of the examples of how interesting Olde Town Arvada had become of late. It is a shop that offers supplies for weaving enthusiasts, as well as classes (there are various spinning wheels and looms scattered throughout the place.
But more than that, it also features various "weaving products": socks, scarves, and things of that nature. And tapestries. Incredibly ornate tapestries. I had forgotten that tapestries have been an art form for hundreds of years (often adorning the walls of castles throughout centuries), but the tapestries offered at the Rose Gallery brought this lesson back to me in a most vivid manner.
About a month ago, I was asked to provide a couple of hours of music for the grand opening of this new shop. I will be returning there on December 9th (from about 1-3pm) to provide some seasonal Christmas music. I would encourage folks to come through and pay the place a visit. It has a most welcoming feel to it; sort of a cross between a hobby shop and an art gallery. And Harriet Rose (the owner) is a wonderful, enthusiastic pixie of a woman.
And now, I am getting ready for my next lesson with Iznaola, so I will look to say something about that, come my next entry.

According to the family stories, I was born on midnight, between the 23rd and the 24th of October. The doctor gave my mother the choice as to which date she wanted on my birth certificate, and she chose the 24th, so as to fully account for all the time she'd spent in labor.
So I usually try to stay up until midnight, to mark my birthday. This time, however, I turned in early, as a I had a very early morning gig on the 24th. I was to play for a breakfast at the Denver Art Museum, for the Colorado Business Committe for the Arts. I was provide some 30 minutes of classical guitar while people made their way in, did their mingling/conversation thing, and gradually made their way to seats for breakfast. Fortunately, I am, by nature, sort of a morning person, so I wasn't really overwhelmed by the earliness of the hour.
From this 7:30am gig, I went straight on to Arapahoe College, to teach my music theory class. I had given my students in the class a chance to earn a bit of exta credit. They were to bring in a recording of a song, name what key the song was in, and the "harmonic rhythm" (that is, tell how often chords change in song, and if and where that rate of change might itself vary). Part of this is an ongoing effort to develop in my students the ability to listen critically to a piece of music, and recognize what they hear.
I had no other classes or lessons scheduled for the rest of the day. I went home, enjoyed a light lunch of some leftover Chinese, took a short nap, and headed up to Boulder. I was to meet some friends in Boulder, to enjoy a feast of all-you-can-eat sushi at Japango's (a sushi restaurant located along the Pearl Street Mall). The weather was an almost perfect autumn day, so I thought I'd head up early and do a bit of busking on the mall, before meeting with my friends.
I had fun playing some classical guitar, while sitting on a bench face Japango's. I only made a dollar for my efforts. Most people on the mall were hurrying to and fro. The one dollar I earned was from a couple who sat on a nearby bench, gazing into each others' eyes, and enjoying the soundtrack to their moment that I was providing.
If I were depending on earnings from busking, I might have been quite disappointed with my take after playing for an hour. But really, I was just wanting to play under the comfortable, setting sunlight of a fine, autumn day.
Dinner with friends was great. This is my fourth year of celebrating my birthday by eating sushi, so I suppose it can be more or less considered a tradition by now. We spent a good couple of hours with good friends, good conversation, and good food.
I was basking in the good buzz of all this birthday pleasure, as I drove from Boulder back towards Arvada, when my car began to overheat. I managed to pull over into the parking lot of a King Soopers grocery store, in Westminster, and start the process of calling the AAA tow service, arranging for renting a car for the next couple of days, and whatever else will need to be done. It doesn't look good. By the time I got the car off the road, it was blowing both steam and oil. It sort of counter-balanced all the good birthday vibes.
I had the car towed to my mechanic's place, got a friend to meet me there and give me a ride home (thanks, James). My last act of the evening was to walk uphill to the nearest 7-11 and buy a Powerball ticket. My hope is that my car trouble will invite some sort of benevolent compassion from the Universe, and maybe the wheel of yin and yang will turn back my way.
It is almost 7:30 on this Wednesday morning; almost 24 hours since that early-morning gig at the Denver Art Museum. I have to go pick up the rental, visit my mechanic (explain what happened with the car and give him the keys), and hope the diagnosis doesn't prove too disastrous.
Quite the roller coaster ride in 24 hours.

Forgive me if I sound a bit like the Arvada Chamber of Commerce...
I had a slightly unusual gig yesterday. I was hired to provide music for the Grand Opening of a new shop in Olde Town Arvada: Rose's Weaving Gallery and Studio. This is a place that sells finished weaving products (hats and various other clothing items, as well as very ornate/artistic tapestries), but will also be selling supplies for weavers, and will be offering classes. There are some half dozen or so looms scattered throughout the place, as well as at least one spinning wheel that I saw, and cards of wool and the various other elements necessary to the weaving art.
I played for a couple of hours; classical and fingerstyle stuff (including various tunes from my last two CD's). Consequently, I was asked by several people for my card, and although I didn't sell any CD's at the time, there were several inquiries about the CD's, as well (since this new shop is directly across Grandview from the Olde Town Pickin' Parlor, where I provide lessons, I informed various people who inquired about my CD's that they were available at the Pickin' Parlor).
I was told that the music I was playing was ideal for while one is weaving: soothing, somewhat meditative. So maybe I've found yet another market. In addition, Rose (owner of the new Gallery) suggested that she would like to have me back to play in the shop sometime; perhaps with the Christmas season (in which case, I will be sure to give notice at this website, in the calender section).
Olde Town Arvada's shopping district is taking on a colorful and funky aspect. In addition to this new weaving gallery, there is a place dedicated to fly-fishing, and another place that specializes in fine spices of every sort. There are two wineries within a block's space, and a meat shop that features elk, buffalo and various other game. And there is the D-Note, which has evolved into a combination night-club, art gallery, and purveyor of fine and gourmet pizzas (notorious for live entertainment almost every night of the week, too).
Since I live very close to business district, I have taken to walking around sometimes at night. I was doing so last night; all the while noting the various unusual shops that have sprung up (many of them within just the last few years). This is just one of the reasons I have been very happy living in Arvada for the last handful of years. True, it can be a somewhat quiet, suburban sort of place, in some respects, but between the Olde Town shopping district, and a nice walking/bike trail that leads through a few parks close by (all very much in walking range), it has been a good place for a creative soul.
And speaking of creative, I am gearing up take Many Hats Music into some new activity. Over the next few months, I am looking to invest in some new recording equipment, as well as equipment that would allow me to duplicate/produce new CD's at 25 a batch (with a label laser-printed on each copy). The goal is to make CD-production as much of an "in-house" process as possible, which will hopefully make the whole process of recording/creating new CD product more cost efficient, and just more "doable". I have plans for some half-dozen new CD projects, and I am hoping that investing in this equipment will help me to make these various projects a reality.
So, stay tuned.....

Last weekend, I chanced upon "Light On Life", by B.K.S. Iyengar (a rather well-known, somewhat formidable figure in the field of yoga). I'm about 50 or so pages into it, at this point, but I am finding it very enlightening and helpful. More to the point, I find myself translating alot of what Iyengar has to say about yoga practice into guitar practice.
I often tell me students that learning guitar can sometimes be very much like learning yoga. Sometimes, when one is confronted with bending the fingers in a certain way, or perfecting a particular movement in regards to the hands (or even general issues of overall body-posture), it can seem alot like a yoga student learning to stretch or bend in a new way, or learning to isolate and work some muscles, while leaving other muscles (or the rest of the body) unaffected. There is also the issue of maintaining a strong core, a sense of balance and gravity, that provides stability in the midst of your action. Again, Iyengar describes this in the context of yoga, but it makes tremendous sense in approaching guitar-playing.
As I further explore Iyengar's ideas (and continue to practice both yoga and guitar), I will look to further integrate these ideas into effective guitar technique and practice. And I will look for specific ways to describe and explain the results of my efforts (and share with students, and anyone reading this blog).
This is not a new idea, by the way. I was first introduced to yoga in college, when I noticed that my guitar teacher, my piano teacher, and my voice teacher were all practicing yoga at that time. That was when I considered the possibility that there might be some valuable wisdom to be gained here. I have practiced yoga (off and on) in the intervening years. I look to make it a more integral part of my overall exercise/health regimen, but, again, I see some ways in which yoga could have a more specific influence on my guitar-playing, as well. And who knows? Somewhere down the road, this might make a great topic for a book.

If I had not given proper credit before, I belong to 24-Hour Fitness. The local branch (at 80th and Sheridan, in Arvada), is a comfortable place, with all the necessary features: plenty of treadmills, elliptical step machines, weight machines, a pool, etc. I was a member years ago, quit for awhile, then rejoined in February of 2005. I think I mentioned that, upon first rejoining the gym, my fat percentage was measured at about 33% (give or take). And a few months ago, I was measured again, and came in at some 26%. I was then told that 22% was a good goal. As of today, I was measured again, and came in at 20%!
Of course, this time I was shown a chart that shows 14-18% as the range for "fit" (which is one level below "Athletic", which is around 12% or so).
By the way, this is a good time to explain why I was looking at this chart, and how I came to have my body fat measured again.
It seems 24-Hour Fitness is a sponser of the "reality" show, "The Biggest Loser". And tying into that sponsorship, they were offering something of a deal: 6 half-hour sessions with a personal trainer. I figured I could manage a package like that, so I signed up. I had my first two sessions with my new personal trainer, Chad, this morning. We measured the body fat, as well as inches here and there (waist, biceps, etc.), and checked weight (hovering around 205 pounds, as of this morning) and talked about future goals (to lose about 10 pounds, reduce body fat to about 15%, get a bit more toned and increase upper body strength/mass). Then we worked with a couple of the upper body weight machines, as well as some free weights, and also did some cardio with one of the elliptical step machines (I realize I may getting too far into minute details, here, and some folks reading this may feel their eyes glazing over at this point....).
A package of six sessions for basically fifty bucks is bound to have some sort of catch. And there was: mainly, up-selling. Chad did his best to talk me into vitamins, supplements (including some sort of "fat-burning" pill), extra sessions (a bargain!: 11 more sessions for only another $570!!).
You know, just working on my own, over the course of some 18 months (give or take), I have managed to reduce my body-fat percentage from some 33% to 20%; and that's without vitamin supplements, or strict diets, or "fat-burnng" pills, or whatever. I am willing to tweak my diet a bit (Chad wants me to shoot for 1800 calories a day; we'll see). And I want to learn a bit more about using the weights, and other more efficient ways to work out. But I am not looking to get all that obsessed about all of this. Yes, I want to be fit and healthy, but I am not looking to be fanatical.
Although I can be a little... competitive.
'Turns out I have a couple of friends in Australia (new friends, met at the Pennis War, this summer) who apparently have decided to follow my example and start working out regularly at the gym (now I'm some sort of role model?!?! who woulda figured?!?). They have started down this path to fitness, so I feel a bit compelled to stay a little ahead of the game (yes, I do have a competitive streak in me that can express itself in some interesting ways, sometimes).
The upside of all of this: I feel good. I am healthy. A week ago, a bit of a cold bug tried to do me in, and it did not last long. I like the energy I generally feel from being in good health. I like feeling a little loose in my clothes (and not because I resort to the "loose-fitting" jeans that have become popular among baby-boomers), and I like the endorphin-rush I feel after a good workout (better than drugs. Really!).
I would like to get a little more consistent about practicing yoga, as I would like to improve on my overall flexibility, in that regard. Meanwhile, I have two more sessions scheduled with my new buddy, Chad, for next week, and looking forward to some good workouts between now and then.

I played at the Village Roaster last night. It is a small, intimate coffeehouse in Lakewood (in the eastern half of the Belmar shopping district, not far from the Lakewood Library).
Time was, I would play such a place and be regarded largely as "background music"; just playing in a corner, while people sipped their coffees and chatted away. This is becoming less and less the case, however. I had a small audience of close to a dozen people, last night. They sat watching me, and listening, and applauding at the end of each piece. So, in addition to playing my music, I talked about the music a bit, too (telling a bit about the life and time of Villa Lobos, before playing his Etude #1 in e minor, for example); making the evening much more of a featured performance.
By the end of the evening, I'd sold about 4 CD's, and left posters (blanks, for now) for when the next time I play there will be scheduled (which will also be posted here at the website, of course).
It was a wonderful, comfortable night; almost like having a group of guests over to sit in my living room and chat with them about music.
And there is something I have learned from such experiences: when I am playing in such an intimate setting, chatting away as I introduce this or that piece of music, I am entirely relaxed, and, consequently, my performances are not marred by some excess of nerves. On the other hand, when I assume a more formal demeanor (getting more "serious" about the music, and assuming some sort of "recital" attitude), I become painfully self-conscious, and the performances suffer. Maybe this should be something of a no-brainer, that I should maintain some form of familiarity in my bond with the audience, as I perform. But there are some old attitudes that were drilled into me in my college days (and even a bit earlier), that held that recitals were indeed very "Serious" things (dress up in fancy, stiff clothes; don't talk to your audience; bow in a very formal manner; etc., etc.).
I have still played barely more than a handful of recitals, while, on the other hand, I have played hundreds (thousands, perhaps) of coffeehouse gigs, house concerts, college gigs (in student rec centers, or some such), and other such venues. In those circumstances, the premise if very simple: I am there to share music with an interested audience. We are all there to enjoy this shared experience. Under those circumstances, I have been entirely comfortable (happy as a clam, as the saying goes).
So, even though it may be argued that I am moving into some new peforming circles (recitals and concerts, for example), I think it is vital for me to hold onto that which makes the performing experience positive and pleasurable for both me and my audience.
Again, that is perhaps a no-brainer, but it is always surprising how we can forget such simple lessons.
The rest of this weekend is a somewhat welcome break from playing or teaching. It is a time to catch up on some overdue domestic chores (cleaning up an apartment that has acquired an intolerable number of cobwebs in corners, for example), and hopefully catch up with friends, too. October and November have traditionally been lighter months in terms of playing; with more students signing on for private lessons (which, fortunately, balances things out). Over the years, these activities have acquired a seasonal rhythm, which I have learned to work with.
Still, given that I won't be playing quite as much over the next month or two, this is a good time to work on some new music (and hopefully compose some new music, as part of that process), and perhaps make a little progress on this novel I have been threatening to write.
Onward, then....

The Con Brio Consort had its public debut last Saturday (Sept. 16th). The consort consists of myself on guitar, Laura Schulkind on flute, and Julia Hays on violin and viola. I have done a few duo gigs with Laura, and Julia and I have done tons of gigs over some 7 or 8 years at this point, but this was the first time the three of us had joined forces and put it out in a public performance.
I have to say, I like the blend of the instruments. We did a Beethoven piece (originally composed for violin, viola and cello) that had been arranged by a contemporary of Beethoven's for flute, viola and guitar. And we did a piece by Ferdinando Carulli (originally for 2 violins and guitar, but easily adapted to our purposes).
There are other pieces out there that we can eventually add to our repertoire. Also, I am interested in both arranging some pieces for the ensemble and composing some new works.
Meanwhile, the concert was recorded, so I hope that we might have something from the recording that could be included on the website (perhaps something that could be made available for digital download, as well). And many pictures were taken (by both a professional photographer, as well as some well-meaning friends making use of my digital camera), so I will add that to the list of photos to eventually find their way to the website, as well.
It was a fun concert. A good number of friends, colleagues and well-wishers made for an appreciative and enthusiastic audience. In addition to the trio pieces, Laura and I performed a couple of pieces by Ricardo Iznaola (set for either flute and guitar or violin and guitar), and Julia and I played a couple of Bach Gavottes, and a couple of celtic pieces that have been long-standing features of our duo repertoire. And I performed my solo arrangement of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow", as well.
This was billed as our "First Annual Concert", which, of course, means that we fully intend to build on this experience, and have something new for another such event, a year or so from now. Between now and then, we are gearing up for some possible artist-in-residence work, via a grant from the Kennedy Center Foundation. There are also some house concerts being set up, and a variety of other performance opportunities.
Things are getting busier, and alot more interesting.

I played four weddings over the previous two weekends: two in one day, just last Saturday (about a week ago, now; where does the time go?!?). I am beyond the point of counting how many weddings I have played over the years. I don't mind: it's good work, and you are generally surrounded by optimists.
Some themes come up frequently: the words of St. Paul in 1st Corinthians, for example, or the Apache wedding prayer, or the three Greek terms for Love (eros, philios, and agape). I have heard several ministers speak on those three forms of love: romantic love, friendship-love, and spiritual love. And they speak of the need for all three forms of love to exist in a successful marriage.
In addition to playing a spate of weddings over the last couple of weeks, my own parents recently celebrated their 49th anniversary (plans are afoot to find some means to help them celebrate the Big One, come next August). I know it hasn't always been easy. Mom is a very industrious, sometimes workaholic, and intense sort. Meanwhile, Dad can be laid-back to nearly the point of lethargy, sometimes. Under the best of conditions, they complement each other in a wonderful way. Dad helps Mom chill and relax a bit, and Mom spurs Dad before he becomes some permanent couch potato. At other times, however, I know they have driven each other crazy. But they have been most devoted to each other. You can see it today, watching them. There is a deep and abiding love and affection there; something that has helped them weather all sorts of challenges over the years.
Which reminds me of my encounter with "Herb, the Mystic".
Back when I was in grad school, I was introduced to Herb, and told his story. As a child, he had been shuttled 'round to various foster homes and institutions. At the age of 15, he left the last foster home, and literally joined the circus. He worked in a circus for a few years, then joined a company that mounted expeditions, capturing animals for circuses and zoos. Then he got drafted and sent to Viet Nam, where he got captured and spent some time as a POW.
When he got released, he spent several years "studying the 'isms'" (as he would put it): buddhism, taoism, confucianism, hinduism, etc. By the time I met him, he was working as a building contractor in Dayton, and was a practicing Catholic. I had to ask him, after all that he had told me, why he had joined the Catholic church.
Herb told me that one of the things he had learned from all that living was that various paths of faith were just that: paths. If you follow any of them consciously, devotedly, they will lead you to a knowledge of that divine creative essence conveniently called God (of Goddess, or the Tao, or whatever). What was most important was to choose a path and start travelling.
He had this analogy he described to me: Say you are in a garage where there are many, many vehicles. And you look around, and you think that red one over in the corner looks really nice, but the yellow one over on your left is sure to be faster. But the grey one a couple of rows down gets better gas mileage, but the blue one you just passed is most likely to last longest, with little necessary maintenance. "At some point, you have to pick one and go," said Herb. "You can argue forever about the good and bad points of each; in the end, you just have to choose."
He went on to say there is a similar thing with the process of marriage. There is something to be learned in choosing to live and learn with and for one person, over the course of years. "Look at a couple who have been actively married for 10, 20 or more years," said Herb. "I don't mean just tolerating each other, or just surviving each other. I mean two people who are very consciously loving each other every day, for days and weeks, and months and years. Such people will be some of the most spiritually advanced people you could meet. Because in engaging in such a grand, yet subtle adventure, they learn several of the most profound spiritual lessons."
In short, Herb was describing marriage as a spiritual path. It has not always been such a thing. In fact, it could be argued that the vast majority of the history of Marriage has been about economics and child-rearing, or occasionally a case of political considerations. The notion of marriage for romantic purposes is actually a rather new concept, so to speak. And marriage as a spiritual path.....? Although there may have been some to find it so over the ages, I doubt many entered into it thus.
As a spiritual path, I think marriage may be as demanding as any celibate priesthood. That is to say, I am not so sure everyone is cut out for it. Not for life, anyway. Just look at the divorce rate. Also, someone could argue that it is not necessary to spend one's entire life with just one person to learn spiritual lessons (or whether it is necessary to learn those spiritual lessons at all, for that matter!).
It seems to me, at this point, that the only reason I would want to consider marrying is for this potential spiritual path. As such, I am not so sure such a thing will ever actually happen for me. I was briefly married, some years ago (seems like ancient history at this point). And I learned one very valuable spiritual lesson as a result of that union: if both people are not committed to each other and trying to make things work, it simply won't last (no matter how much one person might wish it so). Which is one of the reasons I grow a bit less optimistic about the possibility I might engage in such a grand adventure: as one gets older, it can be harder to imagine that there is another person out there willing to join forces in such an undertaking.
Then again, I look at my parents, who have spent years getting to know each other very well. And I know that, as a consequence, they have gained a measure of wisdom. It could be argued that some of the greatest challenges still await them, as they get older, and their health becomes somewhat precarious. They will have to be there for each other more than ever.
I am in awe of them.
I really am.

I did invest in a digital camera. I do have photos (particularly, from my week or so at the latest Pennsic War....see sca.org... and others to come, fer shur). Now, it remains for me to figure out how to load all this stuff in the computer, and then to the website. This is a work in progress, as it were.
Sincerely,
Michael
(desperately crawling, kicking and screaming, into the 21st Century)

Here I am, in my home office, typing away at the computer, while sitting at the desk in a new tux.
Don't get me wrong: I am grateful for the new attire (thanks to my friend, Jeannie, who made this suit a gift to me). For the most part, it looks good. I find that I can clean up reasonably well, when the occasion warrants. And since I am playing two weddings today, it seemed an occasion to try out the new suit (besides, Jeannie is playing maid of honor at the first wedding, and very much wants to see how the tux is working out).
It is still not the most comfortable thing to play guitar in. While it looks very nice and fitting while I stand around, when I sit (and when I raise my arms to play the guitar), the sleeves of the jacket ride up, exposing a fair amount of the white cuffs of the tux shirt. The pants seem to ride up a good amount, too (thankfully, I have a good pair of socks.....thanks, Mom,..... and a pair of nice, tux shoes to complete the ensemble). Also, when playing, the shoulders of the jacket tend to sort of go up on me, crowding my neck and head a bit. And this is after taking the suit to the tailor's.
It's my fault, I am told. The tailor told me that part of the problem is that, with my working out as regularly as I do, my upper arms are....well, thick, and muscular,.... thus causing some of the tightness I feel in the upper part of the sleeves.
I think something else that probably is my fault is that I didn't bring my guitar and footstool with me, when I went to get alterations on the jacket and pants. I think I should have actually sat down with the guitar (left foot elevated by the footstool), arms cradled around the guitar, to get a better idea of how I will be wearing the suit most of the time.
I may end up getting another jacket. I don't know. Jeannie has offered to help me get another jacket, should it prove just too intolerable. I'll wait and see. Maybe I'll get used to it.
No.
If I flex my arms, there's this tightness between the elbows and the shoulders.....
Why did I agree to this, again?
Because I am starting to play more recitals and concerts, and I have been told that I need to have more elegant attire for such performances.
Sigh.
I think I may have to try to make some sort of concert-fashion statement, at some point, here. I'm not sure if I can endure this sort of thing on too regular a basis.
Anyway, I'm getting ready for the big concert on the 16th of this month (now just a week away). The trio music is coming along, but I am doing alot of practicing (to bolster my confidence, as it were).
I am also spending time, running around town, putting up or passing around posters and postcards, advertising the concert. This makes for one of those times when I feel a shortage of free time (every moment feels spoken for, it seems).
I think, following this concert, I am going to be ready for some serious "down-time". A little less practicing, perhaps, and maybe a bit of composing, or writing, instead.
And maybe a nice, long, autumn hike somewhere.

Later, then....

Michelangelo's is a coffee/wine bar just slightly north of the northwest corner of Broadway and Ellsworth, in Denver (there is some pizza place right on the corner, then Michelangelo's). Last night (Friday, August 25th), I played there for the third time, and it's beginning to feel like one of those second homes for me; very comfortable.
As I pulled up, a car was pulling out of a parking space right in front of Michelangelo's: timing is everything (not to mention a good omen). I got my guitars and amplifier and gear loaded in with very little delay, said hello to Jamie (the manager, or at the very least she carries herself very ably that way), and Kendall (one of the barristas), and was up and playing in quick time.
It's a mellow, welcoming place, with the usual chairs and tables, plus some very comfy couches that you can just sink into. Almost immediately, a group of four people took the table right in front of me, with one guy watching my hands intently and showing great appreciation for my music.
My old friends, Ed and Colleen, came in (with a couple of their friends in tow). They caught the second hour of my playing, then bought me a very nice tawny port, as I joined them for some friendly chat (I refrain from drinking while I am "on duty", as it were, but I very much enjoy a good glass of something after I'm done for the night).
I had a moment, as I was sitting there with my friends, glass of fine wine in hand, feeling relaxed and good about the music I had played. In that moment, I felt very comfortable with my life; very grateful that I can do this thing I love so much, and make a living at it. I have had more and more of those moments over the last handful of years: moments when I believe I feel the bliss that I follow (referencing the mythologist Joseph Campbell, if I may).
Lots of compliments. Lots of tips in the (ornate) goblet that serves as a tip jar, and just a flat-out good time. After I had packed up the gear and stowed it in the car, Jamie signed me up for two more dates: Sept. 16th, and Oct. 22nd. I hope more folks will think about coming out to see me at Michelangelo's. It's a cool, comfortable spot that deserves all the attention it can get.

If possible, every summer I try to spend at least a week or so at the Pensic War. For the uninitiated, this is a very large event put on by the Society for Creative Anachronism. Some 12,000 or so people gather, dressed in Medieval and Renaissance garb. They camp out together, wage mock combat, put on dancing, fencing, various crafts, sumptuous feasts, and much (MUCH) partying. There are people I only see when I go to Pensic, and when I see them, they are like long, lost family.
I took three guitars with me this year: one nylon-string, one steel string, and the acoustic bass guitar. The Abbey Rogues (myself, Jeannie and Mark) all attended, and we played a few parties and did a bit of rehearsing. In part, this was an opportunity for us to try various repertoire and start some serious planning as to what will eventually make it on our upcoming CD project.
Also, I am a morning person. This is to say, no matter how late I may be up the night before, I am up with the sun in the morning (usually sometime between 6 and 7pm, still depending a little on how late I was up the night before). Knowing this about myself, I resolved to at least make use of this personal quirk. And so it was that every morning I would get dressed, grab the nylon-string guitar (a music stand and a bag with books of music), and go up to the barn, next to the general store, to do some practicing. The barn was the place where I could most hope to practice technical exercises (metronome ticking away) without driving anyone crazy ('didn't want to wake up my campmates with that incessant ticking of the metronome).
As it was, I would be playing the technical exercises to that steady tick-ticking, and people passing by would stop and listen. You don't want to listen to this, I would think to myself. The only reason this is interesting to me is that I am paying attention to how my hands work, how my various muscles obey my intentions. There is little (if any) musical value to these technical exercises. And still, people would sit and listen. At some point, some would ask about my guitar, or about the book of exercises I was working with (Iznaola's "Kitharalogus"). So I would answer questions politely, then get back to practicing.
Later, on any given day, I would go up to the Food Court, and do some busking. Most days, I made enough to buy myself a bit of lunch, and maybe a chocolate ice cream cone (one of my indulgences). And I sold about a dozen or more CD's for the recording label, so it really was a working vacation. Fotunately, I really quite enjoy what I do for a living. And in this case, I got to practice and play guitar as much as I wanted. At the same time, I could stop when I wanted, hang out with friends, do a bit of drinking, eat some great food. It was a thoroughly relaxing, fantastic experience; one that I could highly recommend to just about anyone.
So here I am, back in my apartment. I had paid one of my neighbors to do a thorough cleaning of my apartment while I was away (something I never seemed to get around to doing: a thorough dusting/scrubbing/vacuuming/etc.), so I had the added delight of coming back to a beautiful, clean place. I am rested, refreshed, ready for what promises to be a very busy Fall semester. In addition to my teaching duties at Arapahoe College, there is a concert for the flute/violin/guitar trio planned for the 16th of September, at Cameron Church (in Denver). And there is much to do to prepare for that performance. And I am way overdue to record some new projects. I will be posting progress on that front, over the coming weeks and months.
I have some 5 or 6 weddings to play between now and the end of September, as well, plus a variety of other gigs (posted elsewhere on this website). Oh, and I did invest in a new digital camera, which I used at the Pensic War. New pictures will start to make their way onto this website (as soon as I figure out how to upload them).
And I look to start talking about some other creative projects in this blog. I have been somewhat casually working on a couple of projects for some time: a novel (called "Big Daddy's Home of Musical Tradition") and a musical based on Houdini. I want to put some more consistent and focussed effort on both of these projects, and will look to report progress along these lines in this blog (and anyone reading this blog is invited to inquire about such progress, as way of kicking my butt and keeping me going, as it were).
And now that I am back in town and getting back into the swing of things, I will be trying to keep this blog going on a more consistent basis as well.

26% is my latest measure of body fat. One of the trainers at 24 Hour Fitness was good enough to measure for me.
The first time I measured the body-fat percentage (shortly after re-joining 24 Hour Fitness), it was at 34%. Six months ago, after working out steadily for over a year, I'd got it down to 28%. Now I've managed to shave it down a little more.
I am told that 22% is some sort of ideal. I am on my way towards that goal.
This is more than a little ironic, considering that I was notorious in high school for finding ways to get out of gym class, and now I am paying good money (about $30 a month, anyway) to hit the gym some 3 or more times a week).
It was in college when I started to get some clue as to the real value of keeping fit, and it began with yoga. I learned that my guitar teacher, my voice teacher and my piano teacher were all regular practitioners of yoga, so I figured there must be something to this stuff. I still try to practice yoga, although not nearly so consistently as I would like.
I'm better at hitting the gym; working on the treadmill, the elliptical step machine (plenty of cardio), and working with weights (both machines and free weights). As of last week, I got up to 215 lbs on the Chest Press, so I am now pressing more than my body weight (which I am also glad to state I have managed to shave down to just 201 lbs).
Outside of music, this has become one of my abiding passions. And I have become something of an endorphin junkie (endorphins are some sort of hormone released through the body during times of physical stress, as in vigorous exercise; it's what causes the famous "runner's high"). I have to admit that I really enjoy the loose, relaxed ache after a good workout. And I like the loose, relaxed way I fit into my clothes, as well.
But there's something more behind all this effort, and that is longevity and quality of life. About a year ago, my father told me about the almost $800 that he and my mother shell out each month on pharmaceuticals (Dad has adult diabetes, Mom has a bad thyroid gland, and Parkinson's, and both of them have blood pressure issues of one sort or another). At this point (with half a century of living coming up in my headlights), I still don't do anything more powerful than the occasional aspirin. I aim to keep it that way as long as possible.
Andres Segovia (one of my guitar heroes). Lived to the age of 93, and he was doing concerts and masterclasses up to just a few months before he died. He married one of his students when he was 72 years of age, sired a child, and lived to see his son reach adulthood. I don't know about the part of marrying one of my students and all, but I would very much like to live as long and productive life as possible (outliving your critics is the sweetest revenge, it is said).
I don't know if this is an obsessive drive on my part, but it is an abiding passion. And besides, the better shape I am in, the better I am able to play guitar and create my music. My mind is sharper, I have a good energy level, good reflexes, decent muscle tone..... it's all good, really.
Along with the exercise, my diet has modified, especially over the last ten years or so. I am still not a big fan of salads, but I am eating more vegetables, overall. I save the eating of red meat for rare occasions, doing more fish and poultry. The biggest challenge remains a notorious sweet tooth that I probably still indulge more than I ought to (especially given the history of diabetes that runs through my family). But even there, I am making some effort, and seeing a bit of progress.
Finally, there is meditation. I learned to meditate when I was a senior in high school, and I continue to meditate on a daily basis. This has done much to help me deal with stress, and give me a calm, somewhat detached perspective from which to observe how my life proceeds (at least most of the time).
So, all in all, it's pretty good. To quote the master, James Brown: I feel good.

I'm thinking back to my junior year of college. I went with my guitar professor and my roommate (another guitarist) to a conference in St. Louis, sponsored by the Guitar Foundation of America (figure very eary 80's).
One of the features of the conference is a guitarist that I will simply refer to as "The Italian" (I'll exercise a little bit of discretion). The Italian gave a recital on the opening evening of the concert. The next day, he was leading a masterclass. For anyone reading this who has never encountered a masterclass, basically you gather a handful of students who play for this celebrated player. He (or she) then will advise each player on how they might improve their performance.
So here is the Italian, leading this masterclass, with about half a dozen students there to play for him. One of the students plays a Bach piece, and it soon becomes obvious that he does not have the piece adequatly memorized (or, perhaps, that he is suffering a severe case of nerves; I mean, wouldn't that be very possible?).
Now, even then, I could see this as opportunity to discuss techniques for preparation, or perhaps memorization, or even something about stage-fright. There were many positive constructive approaches that could have been taken. But no!!! Instead, the Italian yelled at the young man (thoroughly cowed, probably in panic, too). The Italian tells this young player that he has not only embarrassed himself, but that he is shamed the rest of the masterclass, and that he does not deserve to be on the stage with the rest of them.
And I found myself thinking: how does this serve anyone, save possibly for the inflated ego of the Italian? I felt great compassion and sympathy for the poor player on the stage. I hope he somehow managed to find it in himself to continue playing (although after an experience like, would anyone blame him if he abandoned the guitar forever after?). And I swore that, for myself, I would never, NEVER subject and student to that manner of abuse (or any manner of abuse, for that matter).
I got to thinking about all of this again, because I got to thinking about Ego. I was wondering lately if Ego is a necessary element in success.
You see, for many years, I have played weddings, corporate gigs, coffeehouses, restaurants and whatnot..... a variety of gigs that certainly call for some level of competency. At the same time, there is a form of anonymity involved. In many of these gigs, I am sort of functioning as "musical wallpaper". And, more to the point, my own personality is not nearly so vital as that the music provides the proper ambience (for the wedding, corporate cocktail hour, or whatever).
But lately I have been doing more concerts; either solo, or in various ensemble situations. Featured performances, as it were. And this is where I am wondering: is ego a necessary ingredient with this level of performance?
And I got to wondering about this whole ego issue because lately my ego has been a bit bruised, and is definitely feeling a bit fragile. I should add that this is not necessarily musically-related (although, consistenly, I am humbled by the various fine guitarists I look to as models of where I would aspire to be). No, the bruising of my ego of late has been on a much more personal level. But none of us lives in a vacuum, nor is one's life so neatly segmented that things don't bleed and blend, back and forth. So, although I have thoroughly acquired that "the show must go on" instinct that allows me to get out and play music under some of the most challenging circumstances (some other time, I may relate the story of playing with food poisoning in a hotel lounge/bar; across from the Mayo clinic, ironically enough), still.....
There are times I wonder if there was a way to just sort of get rid of the ego. Is that possible? Is there some arcane meditation technique that might allow one to totally vanquish the ego from one's psyche? Or does it serve some vital purpose? Is it more important than tonsils (I had those removed when I was five; those and wisdom teeth are the only surgeries I have had to endure, thank God)?
Because there's a part of me that would like to think you could just be so consumed by the music, so thoroughly dedicated to bringing out the best in the performance, that ego need not have any part in it. But I'm not sure if that's the way such things operate.
So, for the time being, as I ponder such things, I suppose I am resigned to nursing my recently-bruised, fragile-feeling ego into something that can at least help me go from one gig to the next, and give it all my best shot.
Later, then.....

Last Sunday, I played the South Pearl Street Farmer's Market (my third summer of being included among the featured musicians). It was the "Seattle" weekend for Denver: rain for some three, maybe four days. Sunday continued the trend with a relentless drizzle that the wind would blow towards me. So, even though the Farmer's Market people were good enough to have a canopy for me to play under, I still got damp, as did my poor guitars. The steel-string guitar was particularly upset, with the moisture making the strings sticky and more difficult to play. And there was just enough chill in the wind to make my hands feel a bit slow, too; so not one of my best performances, overall.
Still, there were people shopping at the market on that moist Sunday, and some were kind enough to drop something in the guitar case (I suspect it was more sympathy than all that much admiration for the music I managed). It's one of those gigs I can talk about years from now (in the "I had to walk five miles in hip-deep snow to get to school" tradition).
I have been making some small efforts to get moving with a novel that I have been working on for some years. There is the old saying, "Write what you know", so this novel is about a bunch of musicians who teach at a fictional music store. It will allow me to share stories, rumors, opinions and diatribes in what I hope will be an entertaining narrative. As I get a little closer to something that satisfies me, I'll consider publishing portions here, on the website.
But the guitar work still soaks up the majority of my time. I have alot of work there; various projects and pieces to try to master (solo work, flute/guitar duo-stuff, violin/guitar duo-stuff, and flute/violin/guitar trio stuff). I could easily fill hours of each day working on all of this stuff.
However, it has occurred to me that I need a bit of balance in my life, as well. All work and no play..... y'know. In the words of my sister, "Bro, you gotta get out more."
I'm working on that, too.
Finally, a nice little turn in my fortunes. I was playing a song I'd written some years ago to a fellow musician, and he allowed that he thought he would like to record that song with his band (don't want to name names until things get a bit more firmed up, though). One of my long-unfulfilled fantasies has been to have another artist cover one of my tunes, so I hope this works out. And, of course, I'll let anyone who keeps track of this blog know, if it does.
Later.....

I was rolling right along with this great new entry, describing my growing up in Iowa, what drives me to keep working as a musician, and whatnot....
...and the whole thing just suddenly disappeared. Computers are such wonderful critters.
I'm not sure I feel up to recreating the whole thing again. It was an episode of thinking out loud, anyway (and so it this, for that matter). And I wonder who (if anyone) will ever check out these blog entries (feel free to drop me a line, if anyone is looking up these blog entries....just so I know if I'm making any detectable noise in the wide, wooly internet).
I did make mention of the fact that, although I am playing less weddings this year, I seem to be staying busy, playing concerts, recitals and whatnot. It's a shift of sorts: from something that could arguably be described as "musical wallpaper" to performances that are actually more noticed. And, as a consequence, I've been pushing myself more, to bring my chops to some new level, to play with respectable energy and fire with my colleagues (Julia Hays, flautist Laura Schulkind, and the Abbey Rogues, among others).
My, but doesn't that have some sort of noble ring to it. Not so much, really. Mostly, it's recognizing the quality of what other musicians are doing out there, wanting to taste a bit of that mastery myself, and a healthy dose of not wanting to embarass myself, too.
I just finished my three-week stint of singing camp songs for the summer arts camp at Foster Elementary school. It was a good time, but I have to admit I'll look forward to a bit of down-time through the rest of the summer, too. At the same time, I learned that this was the third year that Foster has organized a summer arts camp, so I guess there's a good chance there will be another such stint, come next year.
Meanwhile, I want to stretch out a little; do a bit more than just grinding away at the guitars all the time. I've got ideas for some composing, and a novel that's been itching at the back of my mind for a godawful long time. I don't really want to put any of this stuff off any longer. I think I'll see what I can do about these various creative impulses.
But first....
I want to go to the gym tonight; do a good, intense workout. I feel the need.
Maybe, when next I thrown another blog entry down on this site, I'll have some new and different things to talk about.
That's the plan....

The Muslims have it a bit wrong.
If Allah favors you and you are received into paradise, you are not awarded some 72 virgins (really, virgins aren't necessarily all they're cracked up to be, so to speak). No, if Allah favors you, you are placed in a comfortable room with some 3 or 4 (or more) truly excellent guitars. Such was my experience about a week or so ago. Trilogy guitars was kind enough to ship out three fine guitars for me to try over the space of a weekend. For a good part of Saturday and Sunday, I would play first one guitar, then try another, then the third, then go back to the first one and play some other piece (and make the rounds again....). I tell you, I was in Paradise.
Finally, I settled on a 1993 Blackshear guitar, with beautiful volume and tone, and a neck that I find very comfortable for playing.
Since making my choice, I have learned that Mr. Thomas Blackshear (based out of San Antonio, Texas) started building guitars in 1959 (so by 1993, one can assume he had a pretty good idea about what he was doing). Although he was strongly influenced by flamenco, the guitar I have recently acquired is a classical guitar, with cedar top, rosewood back and sides, and (it looks like) a Spanish cedar neck (with ebony fingerboard).
My sister, knowing my penchant for assgning names to my guitars, has complained that I have thus far not named one of my guitars after her. I emailed her that I am tempted to name this latest guitar after her, as it is "loud and bossy". However, I have decided to name the guitar Marie, in honor of my paternal grandmother, and, in part to honor my sister, who shares that name as her middle name.
I am still in the honeymoon period, as it were; playing the guitar almost every spare moment. Ah well: it's good for the chops, y'know. Also, I have a great deal of music to prepare. At least half a dozen new pieces to do with (flautist) Laura Schulkind, plus a handful of pieces for the trio of myself, Laura, and (violinist) Julia Hays. The three of us had something of a coaching session with Ricardo Iznaola last week, and by the end of an hour, I started to hear our potential as an ensemble. I'm encouraged.
The next week is a fairly busy one; what with two weddings to play, plus helping to celebrate the opening of a new hospice wing at Lutheran hospital (all noted in the calender section), and another date at Stella's Coffeehouse.
In addition, I am in the third and final week of a different sort of gig: playing camp songs for a summer day camp at nearby Foster Elementary School. They organized a three week camp, teaching various circus arts, arts and crafts, dancing, drama, and such. And they hired me to come in for the first half-hour of each day, to lead the kids in camp songs (old favorites, like "Do Your Ears Hang Low", "I Wear My Pink Pajamas", and other such hits). I used to do this stuff on a fairly regular basis, back when I was an adolescent and working as a camp counselor at the local YMCA camp, in my hometown of Burlington, Iowa. I could probably do these songs in my sleep, actually. But it's been a lot of fun; a nice change of pace from the various other gigs I usually do.
The new guitar calls; demands more attention (as well as my other guitars for that matter; I have an electric guitar that is most forlorn and neglected). Best I get back to it, then.....

I have just updated the calendar, and there are many opportunities to come to my performances, either solo guitar, Hays-Engberg Duo with violinist Julia Hays, and with Abbey Rogues which features medieval, Renaissance and Celtic music.
For the Summer season, I will be appearing at Stella's Coffee House additional
Sundays, starting June 25th.

Memorial Day,
I freely (frequently, unabashedly) confess my computer ignorance. This is not a point of pride, by the way. The old dictum of Alcoholics Anonymous is, "first, admit you have a problem" (I'm not an alcoholic, incidentally, but I can appreciate the usefulness of some of their techniques).
As long as I am on this subject of useful techniques from AA, there is another point of advice, courtesy of the folks at AA, that I have found both personally useful, and have shared with many of my students:
One day at a time.
Tell an alcoholic that they are going to spend the rest of their life (days, weeks, months, years...) not drinking, and their first and most overwhelming impulse will be to go have a drink. So AA tells a person to take it on a much more manageable level; one day at a time. Just for today, try to not have a drink. And tomorrow will take care of itself (and the next day, and the day after that).
Such a strategy, while effective in trying to remove a destructive habit out of one's life, can also be used to implement something constructive, as well. Just for today, before I put head to pillow, I will find time to put hands on the guitar. I will practice the guitar. And, of course, this can work for other things, as well (just for today, I will write a few paragraphs of that novel I keep talking about; or, just for today, I will try to cut my calorie intake by some 30%; or whatever).
So this strategy has become a vital part of my trying to "get things done". That, and making lists.
I am an enthusiastic maker of lists. Lists help me to focus on what needs doing, or what I want to get done. Lists help me to prioritize, to engineer my time, and, on some level, to keep score. Lists help me to make life a bit more like a game. I make a list of things to do, I tick off an item as it gets completed, and I score a point (in my mind, anyway). It's a reaffirming thing.
Really.
In addition to lists, I have recently devised a matrix of sorts. This is on the whiteboard that sits on the back of the couch in my home office. Labelled horizontally from Sunday to Saturday, there is a vertical list of various things that I would like to try to accomplish in any given day. There are about six categories that make up the broader subject of guitar practice: three routines from Kitharalogus (the book of technical exercises, by Ricardo Iznaola), etudes, solo music, and ensemble music. Ideally, I get something in each of these categories each day (which involves some 2-4 hours of guitar practice, depending on what other demands are on my time on that paricular day).
Other categories including hitting the gym, or doing yoga, or practicing french, or learning something new on the computer, etc., etc. Admittedly, I have never had a day where I did everything on the list in one day. But over the course of a week, I manage to get a good number of the items done, and that affords a degree of progress. And it allows me to track my progress. Whether this can be perceived as some very focussed form of discipline, or the desperate efforts of some anal-retentive/obsessive-compulsive may well depend on one's perspective (including my, own, which can change from one day to the next). At the very least, however, it has helped me to meet some of my personal ambitions.
There are plenty of such ambitions these days. I am about to invest in a new, "concert-level" classical guitar (acting on the advice of the afore-mentioned Ricardo Iznaola, an excellent guitar teacher I have had the great pleasure to study with for some 7 or 8 years, now). The new guitar could ultimately cost more than the last car I bought, but.... so it is. I am doing a lot more work in ensemble situations these days (duet-playing with either flutist Laura Schulkind, or violinist Julia Hays, or sometimes all three of us as a trio), and Iznaola believes I need a guitar with sufficient volume to meet the demands of such ensemble playing, especially as I start to do more recitals, concerts, festival, and such (it's a different matter when I play weddings, or corporate gigs, and use one of my electronically-enhanced guitars, plugged into a sound system; chamber music, in concert setting, has a different aesthetic in regards to acoustics, blending and the like).
And I am doing more concerts, recitals, festivals and the like; which can be both an exciting and somewhat scary prospect. Mostly exciting, though.
I am overdue for "product": recordings for commercial release. My label, Many Hats Recordings is in the process of getting the first three CD's ready for release as digital downloads (which is looking more like a legal challenge.... mechanical licensing fees, contracts, and such..... than any technical problem, per se). But there hasn't been any recording/release of new material in about six years or so. I am way overdue.
This is in part due to being distracted by some other activities. I just finished my fourth year as an adjunct professor of music at Arapahoe Community College. And it has been a positve experience, without doubt, but has taken a good deal of time, as well. After four years, I have acquired a measure of efficiency with regard to the classes I teach there, so I hope I may be able to turn more of my attention to other projects; like composing, arranging, recording, and the like.
There are at least four recording projects waiting to be hatched:
1. a CD of the Hays/Engberg violin/guitar duo.
2. a CD of Duo Serenade (with flautist, Laura Schulkind)
3. a CD for our combined talents (variously referred to as Trio Con Brio, or the Con Brio Collective; still trying to settle on a name for that ensemble).
4. a new solo CD.
Suffice to say that I am rarely bored. I have a ton of music to learn, new guitar chops to acquire, new music to create (compose, arrange, whatever), and alway so much more to learn. And that learning is probably the one central theme to my life. I can't remember who is originally credited with observing that the more you learn, the more you become aware of how much more there remains to learn, but I grow to appreciate that perspective on Life more and more, with each passing day.
So, for the remainder of today (Memorial Day), there is guitar practice (duh!), and a few last-minute preparations for a grill-out. About a dozen or so good friends will help me consume roasted flesh one sort or another. Many of them are musicians, and there is a good chance that we will break out instruments and do a bit of jamming, as well.
As for the basis of today's "holiday", I am not numb to soldiers dying in war after war, after war, after war..... I recognize the courage and the great sacrifice therein. I am keenly concerned about, and disturbed with some elements of our society (human elements, "economic" elements, and even religious/philosophical elements) that seem to propel us from one armed conflict to another, like a drunk lurching down a cluttered alley, stumbling and crashing into anything and everything in his path. What, I wonder, can be done to see real change, to reduce this propensity for war?
I'm not sure Alcoholics Anonymous has a strategy sufficient effective to cure that addiction.
amen...