DianeB

A brilliant fall day found the Persistent Purple Picking Pair rocking down the highway right to Ryman Auditorium. It’s Amy’s first visit to Nashville. I wanted her to get the immersive experience, so after touring the Mother Church, we hit Lower Broadway. Today’s crazy level was a manageable 3/10, so our eardrums and dignity survived the hike intact. Even the midweek rush hour traffic moved along. We had time to relax in our rooms at the Franklin-Cool Springs Holiday Inn, then we set a heading for Alexander’s in the Galleria district for dinner. It wouldn’t be right to describe our fare and make my readers heartsick with envy. But I’ll do it anyway: spectacular veggie burger and spaghetti squash for my nutrition-conscious pal, and pecan encrusted swordfish over couscous for this reporter. Oh yeah, peanut butter pie to finish — with French pressed coffee to fend off the cool Nashville night.

It’s Tuesday, and the scouts and advance teams are moving into position. This year I am accompanied by my guitar pal Amy, who lives a few minutes from me in Maryland, just over the state line. Tonight we’re in Knoxville, and oh, yes, there are guitars here, too. Yesterday, our first day on the road, was an adventure. We were penalized 150 miles for a false start. Nearing Baltimore, we had car trouble and had to be rescued by AAA and towed back home. But we got all the gear swapped to a rental, ate lunch and regrouped. Six hours behind schedule, making memories by the minute, we reached our destination hotel in Virginia. Today’s leg put us in Knoxville with time to spare. Amy, utterly undeterred and ebullient as ever, suggested we go guitar hunting. We opted for Lane Music — she has a soft spot for Martins — where we were welcomed by manager Derek Harvey. He was curious about the retreat. To my surprise, he was unaware of Steve Kaufman’s annual acoustic camp only a half hour away in Maryville, so I pointed him to the web site. While Amy shopped, I had a delightful visit with a customer who brought his Tele in for service: 40-ish Army vet, cancer survivor, pensioned off by the VA, now guitar was a big part of his new life. His story would tug at any beating heart. We got a recommendation for dinner, said our goodbyes, and set out for Calhoun’s. It lived up to its reputation.

@Fretless Sheesh. Once in a while, someone else's post will appear to me with a gray or black background. My theory is that it depends on one's browser and how it renders HTML. Seems to me the issue is with the site code. Black text on a white field should not be so complicated. PS / Steve and I have traded notes. He changed my text to blue, and in future I will try to avoid using a separate text editor for composing (sigh).

Whatever Steve tweaked, it changed the text color of my post to white — rendering it invisible to me. I've reset the text color to black.

@Anne Hill It shouldn't be. You might have to adjust the display settings. Find the small paintbrush icon at the right of the "Sign Up" button (replaced by your name and photo when you are signed in). Click the paintbrush and you are presented with a palette of display options for colors. Click on one of the yellow targets. Either background picture should work (default mountain, or Steve's guitar graphic). It's not your fault; this is lazy user interface design. I could cite several other examples.

We are two weeks away from our fingerstyle retreat. For the benefit of any first timers, and to give Steve a break, I offer this little heads up. Any day now, we can expect Steve to e-mail registrants with a survey, asking: Will you need a ride to or from the airport? Can you provide a ride? Do you want a guitar setup appointment? Do you want to perform in the student showcase? Do you have any special dietary or ambulatory needs? Do you snore like a chainsaw? (Okay, maybe not that.) Steve will also request a photo of you, preferably with your guitar, to use in the slideshow that will run in the main room to introduce everyone (see photo below). Deer Run Retreat will not admit any guests before 3:00 pm sharp on Wednesday, so time your arrival accordingly. And we must be out no later than 12:00 noon on Sunday. We will be in close quarters, carrying our guitars up and down stairs from room to room. Floor space will be limited during lessons and music stands are generally impractical. A compact guitar stand like the Cooperstand is recommended. Bring whatever materials you may need for taking notes, and perhaps a tabletop tripod if you want to record performances. Steve and Paulette will likely have the store items for sale. You might want to have some cash to purchase artist CDs, as sometimes they are not prepared to accept cards. Finally, because we will be in close quarters for three full days: please consult your physician and consider updated vaccines for influenza, covid, and RSV. We want to be healthy, happy musicians! See you soon!

@Anne Hill Anne, like Doug, I'm not aware of any lesson material in iCloud. See my private message for contacting me, and maybe I can help.

Rick Beato weighs in, with his usual sharp insights:

@matonanjin To everyone: I don't recommend clicking a link from someone who has just joined. Their motives may be innocent but you should be circumspect. @Anubhav Please note, moderators are monitoring this site.

@Fretless Wow, those are some spectacular studios. I must be content with something far more modest, but at least I'm close to the kitchen! The molecule (ahem) on my wall is picene. We now return to our normal schedule of jazz programming.

David Das offers his professional take on the demise of Finale, with a succinct comparison of the options:

@Eracer_Team-DougH Yes, Finale will continue to work unless operating system changes break it. I'm glad I kept the installer, and multiple backups, in case something goes south. That's a practice I learned a long time ago.

The writing was on the wall — or, on the score. Finale has been sunsetted as of yesterday, August 26, 2024. It is no longer for sale and will not be updated. It was a mature product, built upon 35 years of code, with very little that could be added without placing it in a rather different niche, for example, mixing. It is still more than adequate for my occasional needs. I have little desire to climb another steep learning curve. Its closest counterpart is probably Avid's Sibelius (Sibelius First is free but can not import files; other options are $99 and $199/yr). I downloaded Dorico (free trial; $149) and MuseScore (free; open source) to see what would happen to an imported Finale file (which must be exported as .mxl). The imported file played back satisfactorily in both Dorico and MuseScore, but Dorico made a hopeless mess of my text annotations and the document format. It uses a different architecture, and the result reminded me of the file format agonies of the 80s. MuseScore's import was much better, although some annotations were altered or misplaced. It's my recommendation for the occasional user; pros will likely stay with Finale until OS changes break it, or go with Sibelius.

@Fretless Coronene on the ceiling?! Absolutely fabulous, says the organic chemist!

Epilog I’m home now. 1,277 miles in all. The afterglow tingles. We traded stories about gear, stage fright, playing outdoors, and wickedly funny ones that can’t be repeated here. I savored late nights in my dorm commiserating with Scott, Miles, and Walter over beer and chips. Janet and I traded self-help tips for leg cramps. I’m going home with pickle juice. Tuesday morning Toby showed up with a whisper for a voice, so hoarse it pained me to listen. He was running on fumes, having taught workshops all the day before, and now with practically no sleep after being up most of the night working on handouts. “The box that I want to play in right now,” he croaked, “is a pharmacy in town with Tylenol and NyQuil.” During the break, I reached in my accessory pouch and handed him the Tylenol I keep for the occasional headache. “For you,” I said. “Regular strength Tylenol. I have more in my room.” His was an expression I’ll not soon forget. Our host Alice Schiller did a commendable job putting it all together for, I think, the 11th or 12th time. But she needs an assistant, or at least a couple of volunteer coordinators. I was not alone in this assessment. The infrastructure at the College of the Atlantic is barely adequate. I wondered aloud with Scott, another academic, how it manages to hold on. “College” is a generous word for a glorified artists’ colony. In conversations, I probably talked up the Guitar Gathering conferences a dozen times. My fellow students, mostly from the northeast, were genuinely curious about our Nashville experiences. Surprises? None, really, in the practical sense. I noticed a couple of personal things. From beginning to end, even though I was new and had never met a soul involved with the camp, I felt unusually calm: it was a sensation both peculiar and comforting. My classmate Debby even commented on it, on how relaxed I looked while on deck to perform. And with that, sometimes I was surprised at what came out of my mouth. In a musical context, that is. You can’t watch Steve for a hour every other Tuesday night for ten years and not have something rub off on you. Feel free to message me with questions. It’s back to the woodshed again, for a new beginning.

A couple of videos from the Friday finale. The doors were open to the outside, visible to the left, as a covid precaution. The room was rather cool and we were dressed accordingly. Well, one of us, anyway. Here's Adam Levy directing some of the gang in “The Weight” (5:09), and right in front of Toby Walker and his girlfriend, off I go (2:53). The Weight.mov Melissa.mov

What a magical week. It’s almost midnight, the rooms are quiet, the music a memory. Now we must pack and be out by 9:00 am tomorrow (Saturday). Our stretch of perfect weather ran out this morning. A steady drizzle forced us to move the workshops indoors, and by lunchtime we faced a thunderstorm and torrential downpour that turned the gravel pathways into rivers. Anyone without all-weather boots, like me, arrived for lunch with soaking wet feet. The rain tapered off into cool, breezy mist for the rest of the day and night. For me it was back to Toby Walker in the morning for more blues and a group rehearsal of our project, “Your Cheating Heart”. Adam Levy had to leave early, so in the afternoon we students split into two groups to work with Denise Adorante and Toby. Maybe fatigue had set in, or people wanted the time to rehearse for tonight’s show, but my group with Toby was only four people. So we each played a song for him and got a personal critique for improvement — along with some hilarious stories from his days on the road. Terrific stuff. After dinner, it was showtime once again in that splendid, aging admin building. The student group performances were led by their respective instructors. Next came about 15 individual or duet performances for an audience of about 40. I believe every one of us, all 24, performed at some point. I landed in the fourth spot. “Why not?” I said to myself this morning as host Alice brought around the sign up sheet. A half dozen classmates, and instructor Denise, had already asked me what I was going to play tonight. I think they were curious about the newcomer. I took my seat, looked around at all those smiling, expectant faces, my teachers in the front row, and gave them my best take on Gregg Allman’s “Melissa”. It was three sweet minutes, at least from where I sat. When I post the video, you can decide for yourself. It was as friendly and appreciative a room as one could hope for. Tons of talent. Denise’s newbies overcame their nerves and delivered. Afterwards, it was laughter and handshakes and hugs all around. I said my goodbyes and stepped out into the dark, windy Maine night to return to my dorm; one more solo walk over the little bridge across the stream that feeds the bay. As I got to the door, a flashlight beam approached. It was Toby Walker and his girlfriend. He stopped to say goodbye. His smile said it all. I glowed. There is, indeed, magic in this world. I remember that phrase from the childhood days, too, " Just wait and see. " I remember those words and how they chided me When patient was the hardest thing to be — 10,000 Maniacs, “How You’ve Grown”

Day 4. Lessons today built upon what we’ve been working on. Each morning I’ve sat at the elbow of Toby Walker with my classmates as we match him note for note on blues phrases. We don’t move on until all eight of us have it, or have given it our best. No slackers here. That’s been followed by practice for a group performance project that’s due tomorrow night. I’ll be one of those carrying the melody, because it would take me another week to get the final 20% of the double stops. So I finally reached my limit there. And this afternoon with Adam Levy I was out of my depth in playing the jazz chords he used in our arranging lesson. I can spell them, I can discern their function, but no way can I play along on “Moonlight in Vermont”. Not a problem, though, the lesson was about building around the melody. This would be a good place to stress that we have players across the spectrum of skill. If you can play three chords, you would be fine. Really. I seem to have gravitated to the more advanced cohort, but there’s another half or even two thirds of us that are in more fundamental workshops: how to be comfortable in a jam, basic blues structure, right hand technique, and beginner “band lab”. I’ve met several people who had never played with, or for, anyone else, ever. This was their first time. They are excited and want more. After dinner, a dozen of us took an optional side trip into Acadia to see the sunset from atop Cadillac Mountain. It took me 41 years, but I made it back, and the view was gorgeous. We returned in time for a class performance and jam by some of the camp vets. My new friend Debby, who performed, offered me her guitar to take a turn, but I had to decline; the mountain visit wore me out. Photos and video will come later, maybe in a few days; our internet is slow and spotty at best. When I arrived, I was uncertain if I would feel comfortable; I was a newcomer. My misgivings were utterly misplaced. I have visited with everyone now, and to a person they have made me feel not only welcome, but appreciated. I made fast friends with Alice, our host, all three instructors, and I think everyone else. We have worked, and shared, and gabbed, and wisecracked. We make music. We share a common love. If you’re reading this, you know the rest.

Just another day in guitar heaven: cool sea breeze, sunshine, companionship, new challenges, and encouragement. Already we’re bemoaning how quickly it’s going by, but we’re drinking it in while we can. With the loss of one instructor to covid — who is safely on his way home as I write — the students have sorted themselves roughly into two groups for the workshops. Lessons today were a continuation of yesterday. So I can’t report personally on Denise’s classes on right hand technique and basic jamming. Toby Walker is working right at the edge of my ability and that of several of my classmates, which is exactly where you want to be. He was so hoarse today he could barely speak, but he could demonstrate a handful of notes, have us play them back until we got it, then add more to the part. In the afternoon, Adam Levy led my group in listening to songs as an arranger would: identifying the structure, locating the musical parts, and asking what could be added or subtracted to make it better. The idea is to learn how to better use your guitar to support a song. An elective hour was devoted to fills and frills; most of which time we concentrated on triads. During a break, I greeted a custodian — a guitar player, and veteran of open mics, no less — who marveled at the music coming from outside on the porch. “That’s Toby Walker,” I explained. After lunch I wandered through the modest campus library: stacks of unbound copies of Scientific American from the sixties and a chance encounter with a basic book on probability took me back to days in my high school library. Almost no one was around, so I visited with a young woman on the staff to learn more about the college. In return, I filled her in on life in the sixties. Tonight was faculty concert night. We set up in the common room of one of the old administrative buildings. What a setting, with the ornate woodwork, ceilings, and appointments. Denise, Adam, and Toby were terrific and I had a front row seat. Tomorrow I’ll share a bit about how I’ve experienced it all. For now, let’s just say, I feel really good.