Well well, we find ourselves here again! Kicking off the workshop’s springtime of blooms in wood and wire, ideas becoming tools, inspirations becoming craft, wishes becoming actions – build sheets, lists, wood chips. I’m ready. This week, on Ash Wednesday (symbolic in many ways and yes, wordplay as well), I began working with the wood – prepping a make list and gathering & marking pieces for the first handful of 2020 builds. I feel like I’m seeding a garden, the energy in the little shop feels great! I remember as a kid, out playing in the summer as the sun would start to go down – that feeling of still wanting to do so much more in the day, that not all the fun it had was taken… so it was time to go in but my head was rolling with adventures and plans and excitement for next time. That’s a hard feeling to keep in our adult lives – so when it comes I know I’m doing things right and I ride it like a wave. That’s what it feels like right now cleaning, arranging, and prepping. I put the first handful going up on the builds page, with more to come as we work into the SPRING 20 batch. Thanks for being with us!
Before we get too far into things, I must mention some departures and pay some respects. Since the last Friday news page blog in December, Sleepy LaBeef has passed. Sleepy was the rockabilly road warrior that took me on the road as a bass player at 19. We toured through Texas and the connections I made there would influence the course of my adult life to this day. Sleepy led from the front and his work ethic, drive, and all-in sanctity of the stage (as well as the experience of learning how to deal with the occasional cocaine fueled asshole British drummer) would serve me well in life. I honor him and send my best to Linda, “the kids”, his circle of friends and fans, and the many musicians who had the honor of following his lead onstage for, like, 60 years of rockin’. Even the asshole drummer if you’re out there – no hard feelings and I hope you got healthy. But yeah, Sleepy – man, that year with him 30 years ago was where it all started for me. I hope they have big Gibsons, black coffee, and gold Cadillacs in Heaven, sir.
Neil Peart was a biggie – never a huge Rush fan but always had big respect, and I’m glad I got to see them in concert. As a man through his time in the limelight he handled himself with privacy, perspective, and a quiet dignity – and he handled this last chapter the same. Godspeed, great drummer. The bass building world lost Mike Lull, always shocking when one of us drops… but we all do at some point, and we’re all “one of us.” And in a sad but most noble departure for a troubadour, folk singer David Olney, onstage, softly apologized mid-song. He lowered his head and, remaining seated with his guitar, left his body - like an ancient yogi entering samadhi. Hard for those around? I’m sure. But tragic? Boy, I don’t know. To me if it’s got to happen, and it’s got to happen, that’s kind of beautiful given so many other ways to go. May he be at peace and peace be with his circle and all those affected.
And, not a human life but a life of another kind, Boston rock radio station WAAF is now gone. While I do understand the circles and cycles and think it’s best rock go underground for a while to re-germinate, the frosted haired, fringed, pointy guitar playing, purple bandanaed young rock and roller that still lives in me is a bit sad over it. FM rock radio is one of the things that woke me up to music, its power, its fun. What can I say – the 80s was a blast. “Rocker Scott” would tell you it was “Wicked pissa, kid!”
But Rocker Scott isn’t as real as Woodgnome Scott these days, that was decades ago and somehow it turned into this. We live results – it’s hard to mourn passing chapters that led you onward. I was hanging with a long time troubadour friend who played nearby, and he had some profound words on being true to yourself and your path, and accepting of what that brings. “When I do what I like best about myself and share that, it turns into this.” He gestured to the inside of his tour bus. When others do it, it turns into something bigger – a mansion; superbowl halftime; millions - but that’s their trip. That’s their movie. If you can share what you like best about yourself – your craft – your work – do that. It’s your path. It’ll turn into something if you let it. Something to sustain you and you can be happy about, which is a journey in itself but one we all stand a better chance at achieving by actually helping it to happen and going on it.
I’m on that journey, he’s on that journey, the crowd that came are all on it, you’re on it. I’m glad our paths aligned. On a practical side bringing it back to the workshop and what we do, to help us together in this, I’ve taken the process & policies and simplified them onto one page for all clients, potential clients, those just curious, and myself to keep it all running straight while I build your basses and guitars. That’s really what I’m best at – so being clear and real about things serves that, and through that I get to serve you better. Client Information Page
Speaking of clarity, I was gone over the break for a little bit – I mean I went OUT there, buddy. 3,364 miles in a converted ’82 Chevy StepVan named Moondancer. I’ll tell you more on that, but while I was out to sea on the long black ribbon of the road, it looks like we got a mention here: https://www.guitarworld.com/features/the-best-short-scale-bass-guitars-you-can-buy - That’s great and an honor. I do wish whoever wrote it would have not just used the first crappy picture they found on a random internet page of a hanging used Corto2 with a crooked Fender thumbrest screwed to it, that they then flipped sideways – and taken maybe a few seconds to verify pricing, as the Corto2 was never the price they quoted. But we really do appreciate the mention and all the correct info for all we do as Birdsong is on the Birdsong page, now tidied up a little, with a FAQ at the bottom. (SD Curlee & D’Aquila pages too).
So your humble servant here is fully recharged – I did what I had to do. For me it’s the road, for some it’s hopping trains, some crave the wilderness (I get that, but I live in the woods); for others the open sea. There are things that embed in the soul of a being that never go away. I can tell you – you can take a man off the road, but you’ll never get it out of him. Above most else it is my temple; it is my medicine; it is my night sky. So I pointed the hood down the highway for a bit and wandered. Whatever the getaway is to you, I highly suggest it to every one of you. It’s ground you claim, with love and respect, from the life that you live and those you live it with. You leave drained, with questions – and you return revitalized, with answers and a clearer path on, better, and of better service to all around you. I’d say to a point if you’re not occasionally left drained and with questions, you’re not doing it – giving, feeling, seeking, spending yourself. Loving. Obsessing. Grieving. This is life. The other side of that, though, is to quest and search and open, to rebalance and replenish. Get a little closer to the source and breathe it in. Go to the well and drink. You are what you eat goes deeper than food.
What a glorious dance this can be, even if you’re dancing with two left feet and white man’s overbite. Just get down with it, get after it, and get it all over you. That’s what I aim to do about now, friends. It’s time for spring batch 2020. More on the trip (and the truck, if you want) later – for now, it’s time to start cutting wood. Thank you all so much for being with us, for your patience as clients, for your presence as friends and family I have the blessing to serve and inspire. A belated happy new year to your circle from ours, and in the words of Jerry Reed as the Snowman, “Hold onna yo’ ass, Fred.”
All the best to you,
Listening to: Totally changed out the workshop CD selection – next week I’ll list all the music I listened to on the adventure, as well as the first week’s soundtrack to stuff happenin’. ‘Til then, what’s on as I write this is… first tunes in the workshop for 2020: J.B. Lenoir Down In Mississippi.