The How and the Tao of Folk Guitar
Volume One: Getting Started
by Patrick Costello
For "Dear Old Dad"
my father, my captain, my friend
ISBN: 097441901x
Pick-Ware Publishing
PO Box 110
Crisfield, MD 21817
http://www.pick-ware.com/
© 2004 Joseph
Patrick Costello III
Introduction
The highest truth cannot be put into words. Therefore the greatest
teacher has nothing to say. He simply gives himself in service,
and never worries.
-The Hua Hu Ching
Instead of diving into the technical guitar stuff right away let's
imagine for a moment that we are sitting together on my front porch
in Crisfield. Let's say that it is just about dusk and the catbirds
are in the big rose bush next to the steps and the carpenter bees
are buzzing against the screen door. Every now and then you'll see
an old couple out walking together or a young couple pushing a stroller
and they'll wave to us with a smile because nothing hits you quite
as right as seeing two guitar players picking on an evening like
this, not to mention the simple fact that people around here are
pretty friendly.
I'm leaning back on the old porch swing giving you this funny kind
of grin because the way you are holding your guitar right now (like
you're not too sure what end you're supposed to blow into) is something
I've seen more than once over the years- not to mention that it
reminds me about how I felt when I was just starting out. You're
sitting there trying to decide what question to ask first when I
break the ice and say, "So you want to play the guitar."
It's not a question because I already know the answer. You wouldn't
be here otherwise. Before you can reply I just signal you to hand
me your guitar so I can check the setup and make sure you are in
tune. As I'm doing that I start to talk about how I started out.
"See, when I was a kid in grade school I had all kinds of hearing
problems. I also had a smart mouth and a bad attitude back then
so the teachers would put me in the last row of the class. I was
unable to hear very much but I couldn't cause too much disruption
either. As a result school was kind of a drag and I felt like I
didn't really fit in."
"Well, one day the school invited this girl to come in and talk
to the kids about how she lived with her handicap. She was blind
and something else . . . I didn't hear everything she said because
I was all the way in the back of the assembly hall and, to be perfectly
honest, I wasn't all that interested."
"When the principal came out on stage and handed her this great
big Guild guitar I just about went crazy. I knew it was a Guild
because it was right on the headstock. I can close my eyes to this
day and still see her standing there with that guitar and her guide
dog. Well, she started strumming on that guitar and got the whole
school singing along with an old song called My Grandfathers' Clock."
As a matter of fact, we will be playing that song in a little while.
"So she was singing this sad old song and I sat there and just
about cried my eyes out. It wasn't just the song. The song is kind
of sad in its own way and the music really did move me, but the
whole presentation hit me like a hammer. I mean, here was this girl
who had just about everything going against her and she had a whole
school full of kids singing along with her."
"That was power. And let me tell you, to a kid power is a fascinating
thing because they don't really have any. Adults tell them what
to do at home and in the classroom and bullies thump on them in
the playground. In my case, being the square peg in a school full
of round holes, the show of power that blind girl was putting on
just took my breath away. I sat there with tears running down my
face, my heart beating like a hammer and my head spinning with the
possibilities until one of the other kids saw me and gave me such
a hard time about being a crybaby that I decked him."
"As I sat in the principal's office next to the kid with a fat
lip the idea of becoming a musician kind of took hold of me. I knew
what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I just didn't know
how."
"There was a good bit of time between that girl visiting the school
and me getting my first guitar. I began taking banjo lessons because
my dad was starting to play the banjo. We had a spare banjo in the
house so I figured what the heck, I'll give the five-string a shot.
I liked the banjo, but I still dreamed about getting a guitar. I
even started trying to play the blues on my banjo, but it sounded
more like the reds or the greens."
"I had been playing the banjo for a while, and was actually getting
pretty good at it, when one day on the way home from school I found
a guitar sticking out of a trashcan. It was all busted up but I
patched it together with duct tape and started trying to figure
out how to play it."
Right about now I'll hand your guitar back to you and make a comment
about it not being too bad of a guitar- even if it's a junky old
guitar. It's not a matter of being dishonest; it's just that I know
from experience that a first guitar is a wonderful thing. No matter
how awful it is you'll always have a special place in your heart
for your first flattop box.
"Now, the reason I'm telling you all of this is because in order
to get from there to here (from being a kid in Philadelphia with
a scavenged guitar to sitting with you sharing some pointers) I
had to embark on what was to become a lifelong journey."
"See, learning to play the guitar isn't just something you schedule.
You don't pick up a guitar and say to yourself that in six months
you will be playing at such-and-such a skill level. It's a bit more
complicated- no, that's not quite right- it's a bit simpler that
that. You just have to start walking or, in this case start playing,
and go wherever the road takes you. The things you see, the people
you meet and the stuff you wind up doing all go into what becomes
over time your own unique sound and way of playing."
"My own journey hasn't always been easy. There were times when
I played so long and so hard trying to figure things out that my
fingertips cracked open and I just sat there banging my head because
nothing I was trying would work. Every book I picked up and almost
every teacher I ran into just confused me even more than I already
was. Things didn't become clearer until I started hooking up with
old blues and country guitar players who kept yelling at me to go
back and work on the basics. They also took the time to show me
what those basics were."
"Eventually I managed to put the puzzle together. I went from not
being able to do anything right to having adventures and doing all
sorts of cool and crazy stuff. I've played on stage with my father
who (because of our shared love of music) is now my dearest friend,
in front of audiences so huge it was hard to take in. I've jammed
with blues musicians and punk rock bands. I've played in the rain
on the streets of Galway, Ireland with a bunch of guys who barely
spoke English but treated me like a brother because we shared the
language of music."
"As a teacher my job isn't to teach you how to play the guitar.
My job is to help you teach yourself, to make things a little easier
and clearer for you than they were for me. You and I are going to
spend some time on this front porch together. I'll share the basic
skills and concepts that you need to develop along with a story
or two that will probably make you laugh. Through it all you have
to set the pace. Pick up a lick or something to work on and then
it's just like the old timers would tell me, "Go on and work on
that, and don't come back until you can do like I showed you.'"
"Don't worry about how fast or how slow you might be learning and
don't worry about playing or sounding just like somebody else. No
matter how good you become you are always going to sound like you,
so you might as well start enjoying yourself from the get-go."
Right about now I'll shake my head and say something about how
I tend to talk too much and tell you, as well as myself, that it's
time to get started. We'll start by going over the tuning again
as the folks in Crisfield stroll on by and the carpenter bees buzz
against the screen door.
-Patrick Costello
April 2004
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