Lack of Inspirado

I didn't expect something like a Tenacious D television episode to bum me out, but it has. The guys do all these ridiculous things to gain "inspirado" for writing a new tune, and it got me thinking about my own relationship with creating riffs.

I've been a bummed out dude for a while now, and I feel my own inspirado was previously fueled by a number of factors that have since disappeared. The most obvious of these was a job, which got me out of the house and tired me out on a day to day basis so that when I got home, a very logical thing to do was pick up my bass and play. I didn't come up with new stuff every day of course, but there was definitely a concerted effort to produce something. My focus was never to make increasingly technical riffs that no one would ever be able to copy. In fact, I became skilled in ripping off other artists while putting what I thought was my own spin on things. Of course, every musician thinks they are bringing something new to the table so I probably wasn't doing anything special but every couple months, I could map out, memorize, and be happy with a continuous progression of riffs and ideas. I wouldn't call them songs, because I basically just played each idea a pre-determined number of times. I took pride in these self-appointed "riff packages." I don't consider myself a natural bass player, which means finding the right sound and feel took a lot of time practicing alone, trial and error, correcting mistakes, and dropping ideas and switching gears altogether. Having a job was one major source of this process, naturally lending itself to winding down at the end of a day without turning off the brain completely. However, it wasn't the main source of my drive.

For over 2 years, I played in one of my favorite bands ever. All people who play in bands might feel obligated to say they are in the best band ever, but I am convinced to this day that I had that luxury. Maybe it was because I had just gotten out of a rock band that played completely mediocre music and had a great appreciation for the improvement of the sound I was surrounded by. It helped that I was invited to play in this group by my best friend. For the first few months, we kind of felt each other out and put some simple songs together by jamming. After writing a few songs this way, some kind of fire was lit under us and we took on a more focused process that helped deliver tunes that get stuck in my head all the time. And yet, somehow, we knew our comraderie was a helpful tool in arriving at such cool song destinations. We took the music seriously, not each other. We spent time every practice goofing around and talking. Maybe it wasn't as efficient as it could have been, but it worked for us. Around the time the fire was lit under us to write good music, my practice time at home went from easy going job wind down to intensive riff making for band purposes. Jamming together helped us create a sound and energy that we were excited about, but I wanted reinforcements for down time. When we got to points in jam sessions where the next move was unknown, I liked being able to lay some riffs down as possibilities to keep the momentum. Every time I did this, the other members were able to dissect it, expand it, and bring it to new territories I hadn't even thought of, which in turn gave me more incentive to write music. I would pound out riffs at home, wondering all along how the other 2 guys would interpret it and improve it. For me, the entire second half of our existence was an exciting week to week adventure in the bowels of song writing. Practices would end, and on my way home I would already be thinking about what would happen next in the song we were working on.

My job and my band both ended within two weeks of each other. I accepted the idea of not having a job quicker than I did of not having a band. But not just any band, that band. I could go join a shitty group right now, but it wouldn't mean anything. To this day, I don't have a problem with the circumstances as to why the band is done, I just miss it. And my inspirado is gone. From a job standpoint, I don't have that need to unwind on my couch with my bass. I'm at home all the time now, so it's like reverse prognosis. It's just standing there wondering why it's not worthy, and I ignore it. She's my baby, but a couple times a week still I'll pick her up and start playing. I can dominate the old riffs I wrote in the job/band days, but as soon as I try to come up with something new, it's like I'm playing this instrument for the first time. I can write a riff, but it's stale and boring. It might even work for some people, but if it doesn't work for the writer, what's the point? It's not good enough for me, so I dismiss it and start over. It lasts ten or fifteen minutes before I get frustrated and put the bass back. I would spend 2 hours at a time in the old days. And I have no band to get hyped for, so there's no immediacy in my process. With my band, I'd tell myself the day before practice to accomplish something in case new riffs were in demand. It wasn't easy, but I would get something done, even if it was minor. Maybe it wasn't a lot, but it'd usually be enough to feel good about by the time I went to bed. I look at my bass now, and it surprises me that I pounded out so many riffs on that thing. You hear people say all the time how writing music will always be a part of them no matter what. I used to think I was part of that club, but seeing how I've turned out has definitely proven that wrong. I feel like a fake, a guy who wrote music when it mattered and had substance. It meant something and had a source. I can't write good music just because. I can write good music when it has a story and when something is on my mind. I figured being home a lot and being depressed would provide something similar, but it hasn't. I would like to be able to put together a good riff package, but only time will tell. How's that for cliched?