July 21 2008

1. (08.07.21.odt)     I'm going to try to describe the set of thimble-like fingertip apparatus I want to make, or have help making; to slip onto each of the tips of my four fingers, right hand. Silver tops all other material substances for these thimbles, which will have a bit of a plectrum's tip cast or otherwise worked into/onto the ends of these thimbles in an approximation of where my fingernails ought to be for the 'correct' set up, as itemized early on in every guitar-learner's book. Quality dobro playing must needs consistent pick-angles maintained throughout, no matter what. The no-matter-what part being that the pick holding set up can not allow for pick-angle-wobble and the frustrating bad note rendered, or missed altogether. ** Though this creation-in-my-mind's-eye appeared a rather remote possibility at first, the vision—still only a fantasy vision—has further-materialized in my conception of the steps-to-success in such an endeavor as I (seem to) have beset myself with. I know that such an accomplishment could and probably will cost hundreds and hundreds of dollars, if not more than a thousand! Denture-makers would have no trouble making me what I feel that I verily do need in order to become more able to reliably facilitate the kind of quality accurate tonal rendition that always inspires me to do it even better; and louder, if at all possible. ** Make exact molds of the four first-digits of my right hand then, recreate those fingertips in something that will not melt when molten silver is poured over it; steel/iron? I've seen how a foundry makes the mold in (probably) a special sand; in two halves, that when joined together, allow the pouring in of the molten metal until it starts running out the weeper holes; and then, after cooling, allow for it to be opened up and the cast item removed to be smoothed over and more finely finished by such things as drilling holes or some ornamental add-on. I also understand some of what the silver and goldsmiths have to go through in order to make a mold-pattern for their jewelers art, and this field of work is where from my fingertip thimble picks will probably have to come. ** Although I dream a lot and probably dream way too much for how old and decrepit I am becoming and, if so, why even bother with future plans, such as are inspired by my visions-of-dobro? Well hell, I don't know. I know: That's kind of flip, don't you think, dad? Well: Yeah; but I am still alive and capable—I think—to give someone some good accompaniment in their musical pursuits. Rusty as hell, but all them right hand fingers and mister thumb are still responding to the call to activate their adept ability--now having lain so latent for so long—to follow my music-brain's instructions to play this note or that one or those now, on demand, as required. Mister Brain, up here, thinks in music way faster than he is able to make his idiot fingers go; but has, through the long years of experience in relating to other musical types and groups, learned to make continual compromises in that feedback loop between brain and fingers which still tingles enough of my heartstrings to give plenty pleasure, in spite of not being able to play all that I 'hear' while playing along any old or new song or another. It all makes just about total sense to my ears, brain, and whatever else of spirit blends this mix in here. ** I wanna go back to flip for a second and . . .what? Oh yeah: My maybe being too old to really become able-still to assume that rather too hectic (for my now old man's tastes) pace of what Joe Tate used to refer to as: the desperate scuffle. Before we were the Redlegs, we were the Desperate Scuffle Band. What I am saying in the way of putting forth a reasonable and sincere question to myself as to whether or not I am really truly willing to let myself become committed to another outlay of wildly fluctuating musical energies and situations, let alone why even bother if I'm just going to probably die before getting it very far off the ground. ** But number one son just had to go and drop how he's been thinking about a family band, which has always been the traditional way of this type of grouping, outside of the hoity-toity folks and their mania for perfection & obsession for absolute control in their music. I am a folk artist. Gypsy roots spur a restlessness to be a part of music; and to be one with it, or as much one as is allowable or potentially-possible in any one instant of a moment-in-time. That illusive & figurative moment when time has stopped and the moment has lengthened for a spell—the zone.