Coach
Friday, July 25, 2014
Heading to Nationals
I'm spending the next week making a trip to USA Canoe/Kayak sprint Nationals. I have the privilege of coaching a bunch of 12-18 year old athletes who have made this a large part of their summer. I'll try to do a couple of blog posts from the road, and especially will try to get some candid pictures of the action. This is a sport that is relatively unknown in Minnesota, but we've managed to take our share of medals over the last 4 years.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Secret pleasures
I confess... I've got a secret that I try to keep well hidden. It's not as bad as being a banjo picker, or an accordion player, but I try (badly) to play the mandolin.
Nearly everyone has some kind of instrument they fantasize about playing. My youngest son is a pretty darn good guitar player (alt/rock style). I know a lot of really talented musicians, both amateur and professional, and none would *ever* suggest I give up my day job (or even play in public).
I've always had a strong country/Americana/roots music taste, but the song that really set me off on this path to 8 strings and a very narrow fretboard was "Whiskey in the Jar" - the Jerry Garcia/David Grisman version. Grisman's opening bars set the hook. And so I bought my first mando - and realized pretty soon that it buzzed on some frets, had a few odd voicings and so on. It was fine for the playing I was doing, but I eventually wanted a nicer axe and eventually got a Weber Absoroka. Awesome sound, stays in tune, no buzz.
Over the years, I've tried to emulate some of my favorites, but I have also realized that the things that keep me from writing complex software programs are the same things that make music theory rational, and why I found differential equations simple, but basic calculus impossible to comprehend. I tend to think in a linear fashion, can visualize/express big concepts, but struggle with simple chords and abstract patterns. I can hear a melody line and follow that - but the chords that make it rich, give it rhythm? ...two left feet and a tin ear.
In any case, I've found that I can pick out the mando in lots of songs, whether it's a driving lead, rhythm chop, or background harmony/fill. And often, it's the simplest lines that resonate. The little 8 note folded chord in the bridge on Guy Clark's "Dublin Blues" (Dublin Blues, 1995) is just about perfect.
Another one that I love is the pretty simple mando lead (even I can fumble thru it) on Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road". Not to mention that Steve Earle is one helluva songwriter.
I'm also fascinated by technique and signature sounds from the 'real' players. Listening to the stylistic differences from Sam Bush, Robbie McCoury, Ricky Skaggs, Chris Thiele, and where they've taken music is simply amazing. Sam Bush is my favorite - he puts 'color' into his playing, be it on mando or fiddle. When I listen to him, there are all sorts of 'dirty' sounds - notes that aren't quite pure, bars with lots of hammers, pulls, grace notes, slides, open strings, split strings, odd chops and volumes. Sam plays loud. Listen to the lead on North Country Girl (the very best rendition of this great Dylan tune). A great, hard driving mando lead that *doesn't* sound like Bill Monroe - for that matter none of these guys do. Robbie McCoury seems to play a sharper, cleaner style. More bluegrassy, more one note at a time melody lines in breaks. An excellent player in his own right. And Chris Thiele seems to be a jazz man with a strong hillbilly twist. He can lay down classic folk lines, and then the very next song pull a totally different sound (that I can't quite put my finger on) from that old Loar.
In any case, it's always fun to listen to the masters and dream while you pick a melody line that sounds suspiciously like 'chopsticks'...
Play on, y'all.
~marsh
Nearly everyone has some kind of instrument they fantasize about playing. My youngest son is a pretty darn good guitar player (alt/rock style). I know a lot of really talented musicians, both amateur and professional, and none would *ever* suggest I give up my day job (or even play in public).
I've always had a strong country/Americana/roots music taste, but the song that really set me off on this path to 8 strings and a very narrow fretboard was "Whiskey in the Jar" - the Jerry Garcia/David Grisman version. Grisman's opening bars set the hook. And so I bought my first mando - and realized pretty soon that it buzzed on some frets, had a few odd voicings and so on. It was fine for the playing I was doing, but I eventually wanted a nicer axe and eventually got a Weber Absoroka. Awesome sound, stays in tune, no buzz.
Over the years, I've tried to emulate some of my favorites, but I have also realized that the things that keep me from writing complex software programs are the same things that make music theory rational, and why I found differential equations simple, but basic calculus impossible to comprehend. I tend to think in a linear fashion, can visualize/express big concepts, but struggle with simple chords and abstract patterns. I can hear a melody line and follow that - but the chords that make it rich, give it rhythm? ...two left feet and a tin ear.
In any case, I've found that I can pick out the mando in lots of songs, whether it's a driving lead, rhythm chop, or background harmony/fill. And often, it's the simplest lines that resonate. The little 8 note folded chord in the bridge on Guy Clark's "Dublin Blues" (Dublin Blues, 1995) is just about perfect.
Another one that I love is the pretty simple mando lead (even I can fumble thru it) on Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road". Not to mention that Steve Earle is one helluva songwriter.
I'm also fascinated by technique and signature sounds from the 'real' players. Listening to the stylistic differences from Sam Bush, Robbie McCoury, Ricky Skaggs, Chris Thiele, and where they've taken music is simply amazing. Sam Bush is my favorite - he puts 'color' into his playing, be it on mando or fiddle. When I listen to him, there are all sorts of 'dirty' sounds - notes that aren't quite pure, bars with lots of hammers, pulls, grace notes, slides, open strings, split strings, odd chops and volumes. Sam plays loud. Listen to the lead on North Country Girl (the very best rendition of this great Dylan tune). A great, hard driving mando lead that *doesn't* sound like Bill Monroe - for that matter none of these guys do. Robbie McCoury seems to play a sharper, cleaner style. More bluegrassy, more one note at a time melody lines in breaks. An excellent player in his own right. And Chris Thiele seems to be a jazz man with a strong hillbilly twist. He can lay down classic folk lines, and then the very next song pull a totally different sound (that I can't quite put my finger on) from that old Loar.
In any case, it's always fun to listen to the masters and dream while you pick a melody line that sounds suspiciously like 'chopsticks'...
Play on, y'all.
~marsh
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Check Six
Weather is such a huge part of living in the midwest. Average folks with no interest in climate change, hydrology or anything that resembles science subscribe to 3 or 4 weather sites, follow a meteorologist like a religious guru, have NWS or Weather.com on their phone, and know the minute of multiple radio or TV forecasts.
Only in the upper midwest will you find people who know about derechos, dew points, wall clouds, uplift, and who can read a radar plot and base their activities on what's coming.
And so there we were - out on the lake for a leisurely set of level 4 intervals with 10 athletes. I knew the storm was supposed to hit the area, but looking at the radar, looking at the storm track, and at the ground speed, I figured we had until about 6:30 or maybe even 7:00 to get off the water...
Wrong...
Fighter pilots have an expression "check six" - meaning to look to see what's on your tail (the 6:00 position on a clock face). It applies to any outdoor sport as well. Look behind you, or move away from the shore to see what the sky may be bringing. In our case, a quick look at our '6' suggested the storm had picked up speed as it moved toward the metro!
We started hearing thunder and seeing distant lightning at 5:30. We were already off the water for a team meeting, so we weren't heading back out in any case. Ten minutes later, the gust front hit, and raindrops started to fall. Fortunately it wasn't really windy. We caught a ride back to the cars, and came back down to pick up boats. All the time, it was raining 1-2" per hour! And just as a bonus, we had the K4 out on the water. Hint - to transport a K-4 on top of a Suburban, use a long ladder as a rack extender. It still sticks out a couple of feet on either end (ok, more than a couple of feet), but it will get the job done for around the neighborhood. And who says Mother Nature doesn't have a sense of humor? We got everything put away, and as I headed home, the rain stopped, the storm had moved through, and the sun was thinking about making an appearance.
At the end of the day, I looked back at the process. We stayed within our safety margins, took appropriate action to get athletes and equipment off the water *before* the squall hit, and executed a bailout plan.
What would have happened if we'd gotten caught out? Always have a contingency plan. We have half a dozen specific houses along the lake, plus two park buildings, that are 'safety points' for weather (or other) emergencies. At worst, you'd have a bunch of paddlers huddled under the porch waiting for rain to stop. Someone will usually have a phone you can use to call backup transport. I should probably get a waterproof cell phone with a keypad. My very smart android phone is just about useless with water on the faceplate. And when all else fails, hunker down. Midwest storms rarely last more than an hour.
And always - check six.
Only in the upper midwest will you find people who know about derechos, dew points, wall clouds, uplift, and who can read a radar plot and base their activities on what's coming.
And so there we were - out on the lake for a leisurely set of level 4 intervals with 10 athletes. I knew the storm was supposed to hit the area, but looking at the radar, looking at the storm track, and at the ground speed, I figured we had until about 6:30 or maybe even 7:00 to get off the water...
Wrong...
Fighter pilots have an expression "check six" - meaning to look to see what's on your tail (the 6:00 position on a clock face). It applies to any outdoor sport as well. Look behind you, or move away from the shore to see what the sky may be bringing. In our case, a quick look at our '6' suggested the storm had picked up speed as it moved toward the metro!
We started hearing thunder and seeing distant lightning at 5:30. We were already off the water for a team meeting, so we weren't heading back out in any case. Ten minutes later, the gust front hit, and raindrops started to fall. Fortunately it wasn't really windy. We caught a ride back to the cars, and came back down to pick up boats. All the time, it was raining 1-2" per hour! And just as a bonus, we had the K4 out on the water. Hint - to transport a K-4 on top of a Suburban, use a long ladder as a rack extender. It still sticks out a couple of feet on either end (ok, more than a couple of feet), but it will get the job done for around the neighborhood. And who says Mother Nature doesn't have a sense of humor? We got everything put away, and as I headed home, the rain stopped, the storm had moved through, and the sun was thinking about making an appearance.
At the end of the day, I looked back at the process. We stayed within our safety margins, took appropriate action to get athletes and equipment off the water *before* the squall hit, and executed a bailout plan.
What would have happened if we'd gotten caught out? Always have a contingency plan. We have half a dozen specific houses along the lake, plus two park buildings, that are 'safety points' for weather (or other) emergencies. At worst, you'd have a bunch of paddlers huddled under the porch waiting for rain to stop. Someone will usually have a phone you can use to call backup transport. I should probably get a waterproof cell phone with a keypad. My very smart android phone is just about useless with water on the faceplate. And when all else fails, hunker down. Midwest storms rarely last more than an hour.
And always - check six.
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