It’s the last day of 2009, time for everybody to reflect on the year’s significance. For me, it will stand as the year I got back into the guitar – and became even more unstuck in time than some of these posts would suggest.
I’ve been playing acoustic guitar since my early teens. Took lessons, played at high school hootenannies, did the amateur coffee-house bit. I still own the Gibson LG-0 I bought in college; then around 1980 I shifted to a nylon-stringed Ovation. But over the years, they’ve both collected more time in the case than out.
Last Spring, I picked up a “Little Martin” and liked the size and the sound – there’s something about steel strings – so started shopping around. That’s how I stumbled on “parlor guitars.”
I’d never known about this sub-genre in all my years of playing, small-body guitars that gained popularity in the early twentieth century. After sifting through the options, I decided I wanted to try a Seagull “Coastline Cedar Grand,” found a dealer in Flagstaff, and fell in love. It’s an amazing little instrument, very comfortable to sit around with, made in Canada with a solid cedar top and wild cherry sides. The sound from its small box is surprisingly full, and it promises to become more mellow as the cedar ages.
Now here’s the curious bit. All my life I’ve been more or less a folkie with singer-songwriter pretensions and a slight tilt toward the blues. But with the Seagull I’ve found myself getting into old standards from as far back as the 20s. Call it homage to the parlor guitar’s heyday – or else the result of watching too many Woody Allen movies.
Some of them are songs I grew up listening to, like my dad’s Glenn Miller favorites, and I’ve especially taken to assembling medleys. I’ve found that “Moonlight Serenade” (1939) segues nicely into “Moonlight Cocktails” (1942) and then into “Stardust” (1929). Then there’s “The Way You Look Tonight” (1936) leading into “There Will Never Be Another You” (1942) followed by “It Had to Be You” (1924). “When My Sugar Walks Down the Street” (1924) slips into “When I Take My Sugar to Tea” (1931) and then into “Tea for Two” (1924). And just yesterday I discovered that Monk’s “Round Midnight” (1944) flows nicely into “Harlem Nocturne” (1943) – written 23 years before the Viscounts’ version.
There are also some stand-alones. That old staple “Body and Soul” (1930) took a while to work out the chords for the bridge, as did “Cry Me a River” (1953). And I’ve come up with my own version of “Stormy Weather” (1933) by borrowing a David Bromberg riff. Meanwhile, “Chattanooga Choo Choo” (1941) is presenting some challenges up on the fretboard.
So, we don’ need no steenking heep-hop. I may be out of touch as far as Lady Gaga is concerned, but I found old tunes an enjoyable way to spend 2009.
I’ve been playing acoustic guitar since my early teens. Took lessons, played at high school hootenannies, did the amateur coffee-house bit. I still own the Gibson LG-0 I bought in college; then around 1980 I shifted to a nylon-stringed Ovation. But over the years, they’ve both collected more time in the case than out.
Last Spring, I picked up a “Little Martin” and liked the size and the sound – there’s something about steel strings – so started shopping around. That’s how I stumbled on “parlor guitars.”
I’d never known about this sub-genre in all my years of playing, small-body guitars that gained popularity in the early twentieth century. After sifting through the options, I decided I wanted to try a Seagull “Coastline Cedar Grand,” found a dealer in Flagstaff, and fell in love. It’s an amazing little instrument, very comfortable to sit around with, made in Canada with a solid cedar top and wild cherry sides. The sound from its small box is surprisingly full, and it promises to become more mellow as the cedar ages.
Now here’s the curious bit. All my life I’ve been more or less a folkie with singer-songwriter pretensions and a slight tilt toward the blues. But with the Seagull I’ve found myself getting into old standards from as far back as the 20s. Call it homage to the parlor guitar’s heyday – or else the result of watching too many Woody Allen movies.
Some of them are songs I grew up listening to, like my dad’s Glenn Miller favorites, and I’ve especially taken to assembling medleys. I’ve found that “Moonlight Serenade” (1939) segues nicely into “Moonlight Cocktails” (1942) and then into “Stardust” (1929). Then there’s “The Way You Look Tonight” (1936) leading into “There Will Never Be Another You” (1942) followed by “It Had to Be You” (1924). “When My Sugar Walks Down the Street” (1924) slips into “When I Take My Sugar to Tea” (1931) and then into “Tea for Two” (1924). And just yesterday I discovered that Monk’s “Round Midnight” (1944) flows nicely into “Harlem Nocturne” (1943) – written 23 years before the Viscounts’ version.
There are also some stand-alones. That old staple “Body and Soul” (1930) took a while to work out the chords for the bridge, as did “Cry Me a River” (1953). And I’ve come up with my own version of “Stormy Weather” (1933) by borrowing a David Bromberg riff. Meanwhile, “Chattanooga Choo Choo” (1941) is presenting some challenges up on the fretboard.
So, we don’ need no steenking heep-hop. I may be out of touch as far as Lady Gaga is concerned, but I found old tunes an enjoyable way to spend 2009.
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