David Michael Bruno

How I Came to Sell a Guitar

Thinking about music this week caused me to recall an outtake from my soon-to-be published book, The 100 Thing Challenge. It reminds me of a truism I’ve discovered the hard way, the humiliating way: if you aren’t good at it, you ain’t gonna get better by buying stuff at the store.

I felt a little too good about a song I wrote extemporaneously one night while tucking in our daughter Bridget, who was nearly three years old at the time. She liked the song. She is my daughter, and she loves me. To her it does not matter what my singing voice sounds like. I knew that, but I should have kept it in mind.
I finger picked a simple G, D, and C.

It’s time to go to bed my girl
Time to lay down your head
We wish the days would last without end
But it’s time instead to dream

It’s time to close your eyes my girl
See what the night may bring
We love the light and the warmth of the sun
But our hearts were made to dream

So dream your dreams tonight
And all things will be alright
And in the morning light, when the sun shines again
Won’t you share your dreams with me?
May your dreams never end

Then I finished tucking in Bridget and thought, “Look, I know I cannot sing. I know I am not a singer songwriter. But what I’ve just done is create a really good song. If I knew Bob Carlisle, this song of mine could get on volume three of the Butterfly Kisses album.” [Wait, what volume is he on now? I wrote this a while ago.]
I imagined work-hardened dads in rural American, who never learned how to be sensitive and who cannot say, “I love you,” to their young daughters, listening to my song and tearing up. I was amazed.
So I bought a whole recording setup. I bought a small portable preamp and two microphones, one for my Breedlove acoustic guitar and one for my own voice. I bought booms to hold the microphones in place. And I bought cords to connect everything to the old Apple laptop computer I owned. I was prepared to be a singer songwriter. I was set.
When all the accessories were ready, I crooned that tender lullaby in the dark of the master bedroom closet, using our hanging clothes to deaden erratic acoustic reflections. Recording in a closet full of clothes is an old makeshift studio trick of singer songwriters, I have heard. I made several takes. It felt good. Singer songwriters call the times they record their songs “sessions.” This session was going well. No one in the house knew what I was doing, but they sure were going to be surprised.
After I was satisfied, I unplugged everything and took my Apple laptop computer to my desk. I got my headphones comfortably positioned over my ears. I moved the cursor where it needed to be and clicked the playback button in Pro Tools to listen to the song.
Now, I was under no impression that I was going to hear a perfect take. Even in the midst of my pride, some humility found a means to temper enthusiasm for my talent. I figured that listening to my songs would be helpful and even inspirational. I judged that, even though “It’s Time for Bed, My Girl” was a damn good song, maybe by hearing recordings of my songs I could learn to sing better and write more profound words. I thought that. But I didn’t believe it. Really my heart was racing and I anticipated being shocked and thinking to myself, “Wow. Wow, David Michael Bruno. I never knew you were capable of this.” I clicked the mouse.
Surely I was not. Not capable of this. Worry and shame rung in my ears when my digital voice croaked back lyrics that sounded simplistic. My eyes shifted to make sure I was alone in the room. Where did the song I wrote go? What is this godawful noise?
Very soon thereafter I sold that small portable preamp and the microphones and the audio cables on eBay. I gave the mic stands to my father-in-law Billy, who is a professional musician, and I never admitted to him what my voice sounded like on a computer. Not long after that, I sold my last singer songwriter accessory, my Breedlove acoustic guitar.

After the 100 Thing Challenge ended, I decided to buy another guitar. Another Breedlove acoustic. But I’ve not recorded myself singing and never will again, God willing.

U2 360 Tour Pasadena Review

Big thanks to my buddy Jon, who secured four tickets to see U2. It was a great time. The video is a quick look at some of the concert in random order. No, they did not play "Rejoice," though it's a really good song and would have been cool to hear.

The concert itself was grandiose. You just stand there and think, "There's never been anything else like this. Ever." They really are the "biggest band."

U2 are great musicians, also. And those guys are in amazing shape! Two hours none stop. One minor highlight for me was when Bono took off like a bullet, sprinting around the circular outer stage. The security detail, who followed him to intervene if the crowd tried to climb up, bolted after him. About a quarter of the way around they pulled up and just let him go. All out. All the way around. And then, the guy started singing like there was actually oxygen left in his lungs. He's wild.

It seems to me that "Bono" is a euphemism for hyperbole. His most recent New York Times op-ed made me roll my eyes at least once. Well a few times. The guy is talented at overstating his case. But you go to a concert and watch the intensity of the band's plea for Aung San Suu Kyi. Then suddenly the Rose Bowl is green, and Bono is speaking to the people of Iran on behalf of the world. Next he gives up the limelight, turning the stage over to Desmond Tutu, whose stirring videotaped message about Africa introduced "One." You have to wonder if maybe there's something to Bono's hype.

My favorite song of the night was "In A Little While." It's probably my favorite U2 song in general. They've not been playing it on their 360 Tour, so it was sweet that they broke it out for the concert I happened to be at. "In A Little While" has been repurposed a couple of times. Originally it was about Bono's hectic lifestyle and how he missed his family. Then, thanks to Joey Ramone, it turned into a gospel song. And now at the concert in Pasadena it became a cosmic space log, complete with Bono's confession that, "Space travel turns me on."

What was most impressive about the show and what is most incredible about U2 is how they've turned their talent and celebrity toward those in need -- the poor around the world. They obviously have a desire to use their position to encourage fans to do good in this world. I forget exactly how Bono put it. Something like, "We expect a lot more out of you. And we expect a lot more out of us." I got the impression he meant a lot more "rocking" and a lot more "doing good." Rock 'n' Roll often flashes a peace sign while indulging in the selfishness of sex, drugs, and excessive materialism. U2 sang about peace for two hours on end. For all the hugeness of the night, all the video on the monstrous screen showing off their faces, all the fans screaming praise for them; the show was as much about those in need around the world as it was about four guys from Ireland. That's cool.

U2

Tomorrow, if all goes well, I'll be joining about 100,000 other people at the U2 concert at the Rose Bowl. It is quite possible that this will be a historic rock concert, being filmed for DVD release and also streamed live on YouTube for the first time ever. I'll be wearing a red t-shirt with a guitar on it, in case you watch ;-)

Full review some time next week.

Amazing Music Video

Coldplay - Life In Technicolor II from Rury Gonzalez on Vimeo.

I'm not a huge music fan. Some people know every song from every band and, I expect, every video ever recorded. What do I know? This is a really really funny video. Probably the best music video I've ever seen.

HT: Cory (are you blogging anymore?)