So the other speed bump to getting things rocking on the new album is the fact that I smacked my finger with a sledge hammer last month. (Don’t ask.) But I kept it on the down low. I was even playing a theatre gig and it’s not exactly Birds Of Fire-ish so it hasn’t been a huge musical problem.
Strum, strum, strum, strum. Strum, strummedy, strum, strum.
The only detail was that the gig was one of those ‘modern’ plays where the band kinda interacts with the audience a bit. And my index finger stuck out ninety degrees perpendicular to me hand. Apparently a ‘manager’ complained to the MD that it looked as though I was ‘flipping off the audience’.
“Hybrid picking technique. Absolutely essential for authenticity. Learned it from Albert Lee. Really.”
That HR crisis solved, I moved on to seeing a doctor. But apparently, by the time I got it looked at, the darned thing had already started to ‘set’. So $229 gets me a professional opinion that popsicle sticks and tape still work as well as ever.
Anyhoo, the delay is not in the break per se. But since I failed to rest it, the healing is going to be about twice as long. Or to blame someone else: I was brought up by hard working people who think that unless it’s cut off? Back to work. You know: morons.
Hope I Die Before I Get Old
There are a lot of reasons that aging stinks. For one thing, one has to actually practice in order to keep up to snuff. You just can’t skip a few days/weeks/months. And healing takes many, many times longer than yer average twelve year old. Maddening. But whenever some ‘minor’ injury like this happens, I’m still twelve years old and I hear my cousins (rough translation from An Arsa Teanga):
“Awwww…. did we boo-boo our widdle fingahs?”
I just could never treat my hands with any respect because that was simply not done for my generation. I’m still back on the trawler. Taking any special precautions (wearing gloves, avoiding high risk activities, etc.) was for sissies. And the perfectly sensible idea of ‘insuring my hands’ would’ve been laughable. To this day, I see my peers with good hands and I sigh with envy. The proper manicure would’ve made me a much better player over the years, but I just can’t see myself ever avoiding anything because ‘I might break a nail.’ I’m sure Liberace had very nice nails (and a great insurance policy) but sadly, I could never evolve.
When they say ‘muscle memory’ they aren’t kidding. As one ages, your muscles just don’t retain information. And when they forget how to do things? It takes much longer to re-learn. After an injury one very quickly loses not just (cough) ‘technique’ but almost all usefulness. The fine muscles of the fingees develop Alzheimer’s after only a few short days of abstinence. It literally takes longer to ‘re-learn’ movement. (When I got out of the cast after ‘the big break’ five years ago it took me about a week to be able to bend my thumb at all. Hitch hiking took forever.)
So I’m looking at several more weeks of getting some technique back to do the final takes I wanted to do (which are ‘Birds Of Fire-ish’)
In the meantime, I’ve abstained from both sledgehammers and flipping people off. Well… at least until the end of Lent.