I'm going to revert to music again for this blog. Something happened during my last practice this week that I must share. For all of you who need a regular blog fix about writing, my new Web site is up, and it's ten times better than the last. Go here: http://arbraun.com.
I'm always a bit rusty when I get back to the guitar. After taking Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off to do payback critiques, read agent blogs and clean the apartment (yes, the work never stops around here), I have to fight through practice Monday, and, sometimes Tuesday. By Wednesday I'm usually sounding pretty righteous. By Thursday I'm shredding, just all over the thing.
But it was never like this.
I always warm up with simple heavy metal tunes, either something I wrote or a cover, usually "Bad Boy Boogie" by AC/DC. I get sick of warming up, but, if one doesn't, one can get arthritis. Somehow, Thursday night, the regular warm-up wouldn't do. I guess you could say I had a musical epiphany.
We musicians have all had them, those nights where we just killed. But this. . . .
The only way I can describe it is that my talent possessed me. It dove right in, and I was on autopilot, glad to give it the wheel. I played one-handed lead guitar--no big surprise, I do that a lot--but this was . . . symphonic. By the time I got to my death metal set, it seemed too easy. I had to jazz it up. I'd been looking for the proper segue for my newest song, and boy did I get it. My head was moving back and forth like Jimi Hendrix on acid. I haven't heard anything like this since Yngwie Malmsteen's Rising Force. I know this sounds cliche, but it was spiritual.
I wonder if it's because I haven't been listening to bands that much lately. I mean, I do, needing to get my fix, but not as much as usual. I don't want to rip other bands off, even subconsciously, when writing songs.
I hope this happens more often.