Two years of cultural and political disarray will have a particular effect on a man, one would think. I’m certain it’s made its mark on all of us, in a range of ways. When reason and logic are seemingly abandoned for the arbitrary application of laws, regulations and protocols that seemingly do more harm than good, we can be forgiven for coming off our axis somewhat, and spinning in an altogether new and interesting way. To watch people turn on their own communities, families and institutions is unsettling to say the least. To watch them do so in the name of an unholy war against an amorphous, biological enemy is little short of absurd, to put it charitably.
Combine this psychosocial maelstrom with the personal challenges of a rich and rambunctious family life and you’ve got yourself a surefire recipe for what could be disastrous, or what could be, oddly delightful. I’ve found myself returning, more and more over these tumultuous months, to an old love of the guitar. More than that, I must admit that it’s displaced other disciplines, such as this old blog, more than I would have anticipated. It’s not only the instrument itself, or the joy of playing it, but a somewhat misguided quest for the sonic tools that will bend and shape sound in the particular manner that brings all manner of joyous awe and wonder to a simple man’s life. I call them 'sonic mistresses,' per se, for their ability to draw me from the creative vocations I'd usually devote more time to, such as writing.
And I say misguided, in the sense that in my heart of hearts, I know that I’ve stepped away from a rational approach to this all, to relish in the incremental refinement of building a pedalboard that I may have considered foolhardy only two years ago. For the uninitiated, a pedalboard is a board of sorts, that houses one’s guitar effect pedals. These might range from simple compressors, that tighten up the range of your output to smoothen out the sound, to reverb, delay, distortion and even fuzz (ie The Beatles - Revolution) pedals, that can cause all manner of raucous delight for players of all ability. The incremental refinement is the process of finding the ‘right’ one of each of these pedals for your particular taste, style and budget, and combining then in a way that works best for the types of sounds you’re trying to accomplish.
For example, in regards to reverb, one may go from a TC Electronic Hall of Fame II Mini pedal, to their fully fledged Hall of Fame II, before finally realising that the Boss RV6 is the fuller, richer option for the working man on a budget that doesn’t want (or need) to compromise on quality. Or if that’s hard to follow, one might, for example, work their way from an ubiquitous Ibanez Tube Screamer, to the uncompromising Proco RAT, before finally finding a highly coveted distortion/fuzz pedal that is handcrafted in Philadelphia by a sole pedal builder in his garage, who has seemingly fallen off the face of the earth and may never build a single pedal ever again. Theoretically, of course.
One pieces together a collection of said pedals, on their pedalboard, to craft a particular set of sounds that delights the player (and hopefully the listener), with the perfect boost, shift, overdriving or modulation of the signal coming from the guitar itself. The result, and the process dear reader, has been a welcome and wonderful journey, taken in incremental pockets of time between the love and labours of a husband and father that likely has better things to do with his time. But it’s the journey of sonic exploration and experimentation that has, largely, offered a sense of liberation from the madness of the world that surrounds us. Pair that journey with a cadre of talented, good Catholic men with whom you can jam, write and cover songs with, and you know you’re in the right place, at the right time.
The joys of family and vocation of course, abound. Along the way, in these two years of pandemic, God has blessed our family with a sixth and a seventh son. Our seven sons, and our three daughters, living out our faith together - are the lifeblood that sustains us. Sharing the little studio space here at home with them, is a peculiar joy unto itself. Our humble little collection now boasts a couple of 3/4 sized guitars, one electric and one acoustic, for them to learn on. They have all manner of fun on the family organ and synthesiser, and some have even taken to tinkering with recording and songwriting as a creative refuge from the tumult of daily life. The music is a discipline, but it’s undoubtedly an anodyne that punctuates the day, along with the rosary, the family meals, silent prayer, reading and the visits to our Lord in the tabernacle. I would argue that the music has a silence of its own - when the absence of discursive thought, of chatter, of the fickle reason of man is set aside.
Music speaks to the dignity of the human person - granted creative faculties and an orientation to beauty that transcends any utilitarianism, any nihilism that seeks to recreate our existence into the image of its own despair. The psalmist recounts: “I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the lyre.” I’ve found my way back to the lyre and harp, and these wonderful little sonic boxes have helped me work through more than one riddle over the past couple of years. May you, gentlemen, do no less with the instruments the good Lord has laid before you.
