I spent nearly 7 hours in the car this morning for various errands/airport trips and music, as always, gave me steady company. I constantly wish I stuck with guitar or piano when I was little, but i just don’t think I had the ear… or self-discipline. Even now, a guitar has sat in the corner of my room for 3 years- picked up less than ten times… but its not like I don’t think about it! I dream of the ability to jam with friends (I don’t know anyone that proficiently plays any instrument lets be clear), but if playing music gives me 30% of the feelings I experience when listening to music, its got to be worth the effort, right?
I keep coming back to the harmonica. Its so small. Its the main player of some of my favorite songs – ever. Bones, Sandra, Boston in November, I Wrote Mr. Tambourine Man, and Quick Quick Slow. All courtesy of Mr. John Craigie, and perhaps not all feature the harmonica, but I could never see how it would hurt, especially as Mr. Craigie lives on in my head as someone that never takes off his harmonica holder.
My Harmonica sits by the window sill in the living room. I think about it every other day, but one time I played it and Ida (dog), hated the sound so much she wouldn’t stop barking. I just imagine taking this on bike trips and being able to connect with someone random over a song. Outlandish? Perhaps, but this is my guitar by the campfire.
Tomorrow I start! harmonica.com is making a convincing argument.