Jonathan Zdziarski's Domain

Day five felt like we were introduced to the universe, life, and everything. We were packed with so much music knowledge today, I’m still struggling to grasp onto all of it just to write a reasonable blog entry about it. While previous days at bass/nature camp have been more nature intensive, today was much heavier on the music side. You name it – upright basses, improvisation, theory 101, and advanced techniques all wrapped up in one 100-degree day in where-the-heck-am-I Tennessee.

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Day four was much of a blur for a number of reasons. We started out with 90 minutes of what felt like advanced Yoga which both exhausted and rejuvenated me. Our Yoga instructor put us through the gauntlet in the dome, on a day that was approaching about 95 degrees. After an hour and a half of the workout from hell – in a sauna, I felt better than I could imagine. My shorts and shirt were entirely soaked, and I was entirely covered from head to toe in sweat… yet somehow I felt remarkable, as if my body had been through a transformation of sorts. Doing it to some Cheryl Crow made it enjoyable at least. What did we get out of it? We learned how to strengthen our muscles, how to relax, and how to breathe. All things critical to a bass player.

After Yoga, we had three classes back to back along with a bunch of exercises. The first class was with Victor: the power of chromatic scales. Vic had us play the chromatic scales to a groove and taught us how to make it sound like a solo. A few tricks: start a fifth up or down from the root, and start walking back to the root every quarter note. By the time it resolves, it makes for a real pleasing solo to the audience. Also try soloing on the chromatic scale starting a half step below the root for a similar effect. Lastly, start on the flat fifth and work your way up to the ninth. Vic also cleared up some issues I’ve had with chords for years. A lot of chords I’ve tried never sounded quite right, so I’ve been sticking with the ones I’ve read in tabs and such. The secret to great sounding chords is to raise the third of the chord an octave. He also showed us some basic chord 101: Any chord with a 7 or above in, the 7 is minor unless specified as a major. And the third is always major unless it’s specified as a minor.

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Imagine if you could plan your entire life before you were born. What you would do, when you’d do it, what you’d accomplish every step of your life. All of your goals. Now imagine if, when you were born, you walked them out verbatim as if you were following a script. You’d be utterly bored with your entire life. Victor was speaking about preparing for our upcoming concert: he doesn’t like to over-prepare, because just as the audience likes to be surprised to see what happens, so do good musicians. Musicians like to be creative; we like to improvise. We live and breathe music, and always have a tune going through our heads. As Jonelle Mosser (who was also there today) put it: musicians can never get any peace and quiet, because even when it’s silent around us, something’s always going through our heads. In life, we walk through certain things as though we’re following a script, but the real joy is in the unexpected surprises that we encounter. They excite us; they make us feel alive. Seeking out new things is what makes us thrive. Walking out some script for our lives causes us to dry out and wither. Vic and I share an affinity for aimless driving. Even the tiny things in life can be exciting when you’re exploring.

Your life is a reflection of your music. What kind of passion do you have inside of you? Whatever’s on the inside is going to come out: both in your music and in your life. If your life is exciting and full of spirit, that’s going to come out in your playing.

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Day two was an eventful day at woot camp and full of fun surprises. The morning felt more like an opening ceremony to the camp. Bass / nature camp isn’t so much about bass as much as it is about music. Before I discovered Vic’s videos and books, I was somewhat torn on music. I played it as an expression through my time with various church bands, but overall thought music was something to compete with. Picking up the bass had originally felt as if I had resigned myself to a lifetime of frustration and competition. While I knew there were ways to serve with music, Vic taught me that music is something to fellowship with, similar to a relationship. It’s something you grow with and learn to become familiar and affectionate with. And if you stick with it, you and music will grow old together and learn to appreciate the trials and frustrations you’ve faced together; the pain is someday replaced with joy in your playing.

Our nature instructor, Richard, proceeded to build fire in only a couple of minutes using the bow and drill method, while Victor serenaded us to some smooth bass. Every native culture has fire as an integral part of their makeup, and soon we’ll be making our own fire building sets. Fire produces warmth and companionship, just as music does. It gives life just as music does. Much of what we have learned so far about music, in fact, comes from our understanding of nature. Richard made the point that what you don’t take the time to get to know something, you fear it. When you don’t take the time to get to know nature, you can fear it too, such as strange bugs or animals, but also in life. How many things have I feared in life because of mere ignorance? How many opportunities did I have that I’ve abandoned because of ignorance and fear? Richard continued, saying that what you fear, you also destroy. Whether it’s a non-threatening spider crawling into a tent, or bigger things in life; how many things have I destroyed in my life simply because I feared them or failed to understand them? I’m no more innocent of making bad decisions in my life than anyone else, and have plenty of regrets in my 34 years on this planet. Have fear and ignorance robbed me? What have I destroyed, or almost destroyed, in my past simply because I was afraid? What you fear, you also attract, and the things you fear in life keep popping up; you can’t run away from what you fear because you call to it. Your fears haunt you like old ghosts.

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I’m in hot, humid Only TN just outside of Nashville. Three weeks. Thirty students. Vic Wooten and his team of extremely talented instructors are going to pump as much theory, technique, and wisdom into us as we learn the difference between playing around with an instrument, and being a world class musician. If you haven’t heard of Victor Wooten, check him out on YouTube. He’s well respected across the world as quite possibly the most proficient bassist alive. If you want to learn something, go to the best. We’ve got three weeks to whip into shape, and I’d better pay attention as we’ll be performing at a concert in the French quarter of Nashville in three weeks time. I asked Vic if I could blog about my experience, and he cleared me to talk about anything I want, especially if it’ll help people who are reading it. I’ll try and blog every day, and can already tell you my expectations are set high.

This is technically bass/nature “camp”, but being that I can barely focus on bass in this heat, let alone the poor hygiene to ensue, I checked myself into a nearby bed and breakfast down the street. So technically, this is bass/nature/bed and breakfast camp for me. I’ve already taken a reasonable amount of crap for that, but that’s OK: I’m the one sitting here in a nice comfy bed tonight, having had a long cool shower after a sweaty day. Come the first rain storm, or the first 100 degree night, the scoffers will suffer, while I’ll be appreciating my soft, comfy bed, air conditioned room, walk in shower, and mints on my pillow. Chestnut Hill Ranch is a quaint Tennessee farm that’s been converted into a Bed and Breakfast. Hot coffee, juice, and noms await me every morning. I have my own bath robe, rustic furniture in my room, and some of the most comfy pillows money can buy. After all, you spend 1/3 of your life on pillows. They’re worth the money to have the best. And that’s the difference between Chestnut Hill and some La Quinta Inn. That, and the fact that from the minute I left my vehicle, three roosters walked over to greet me, taking turns crowing. Thank goodness I have shades in my room so I don’t scare all the small woodland creatures.

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Steak Involtini is a Tuscan dish according to my home girl Giada. She makes it sound rather poetic in her book, but this happened to be one of the dishes in the book that had a picture, and boy was I hungry tonight. She had me at “cheese”. Feeling a little more confident after managing a good meal in spite of last night’s kitchen fire, I decided to try an entree this evening for supper. Since I still haven’t figured out how to halve recipes, I decided to just make leftovers for tomorrow.

Tonight went much smoother than last night. Nothing burned, no fire department showed up, and cleanup didn’t involve a chain saw. Instead, I took my time and followed the recipe as best I could. Imagine cheese stuffed steak sitting in a pool of seasoned marinara sauce. Nom!

The one big problem I had with this recipe was lack of a good steak tenderizer. The town I live in is a very small town, and I’m at least a half hour from civilization. In the absence of a steak tenderizer, the best I could find was an old shoe.. I decided not to use the shoe, and instead, deferred to a potato masher. The essential problem is that the London Broil steaks are supposed to get utterly pulverized to be only about 1/8″ thick. I think mine was about twice that or more by the time I grew exhausted.
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I’ve always been a good grill-man. Bobby Flay is a flat out retard compared to me on the grill. While I can also cook basic meals and follow directions for the stove, I’ve never given myself a fair shake at making some real dishes. Given that I’m up in my Maine cabin for the week, and all alone now, I thought I’d take a whack at it and have a new adventure. What I’ve found is, even though the kitchen has to be occasionally extinguished, I can actually make some pretty decent stuff.

The first thing to do before cooking is getting all of the gear on. Who’s dishes do I want to make? Ray-ray is kind of strange, and seems to have weird boobs. So she was out immediately. Emeril? He’s just too l33t for me, plus I don’t want to smell like garlic permanently. Come to think of it, he has weird boobs too. Giada de Laurentiis has always been ridiculously enthusiastic about the food she makes. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone quite frankly so excited about the things they throw together on the stove. I went out and bought Giada’s pots and pans set. I got all of the major utensils I’d be using. Finally, I bought her “Giada at Home” book, which is chock full of nom, and in spite of the pink cover, has some dishes that look awesome! OK. Ready. Now what?
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How freaking awesome is this: After I finished a forensics workshop in liberal Canada, where civilians aren’t allowed to own or even possess handguns, the most awesome regional cops let me come in and shoot at their police range. We tore through about 200+ rounds wearing bullet proof vests (which are required while shooting) and wasted several cardboard dummies like this one. This is one for the history books for sure. I was initially surprised to find that I shot tighter groups than some of the cops, and most of the cadets – but then realized that even the police aren’t allowed to carry their firearms off duty; how much practice can the average Canuck blue get in? Turns out that, due to the heavily restrictive laws on handguns, most only get to shoot once or twice a year when they qualify… very different from our American culture where many cops have been shooting since they were kids. It was amusing to see how excited they were about a new model of handgun being introduced to the force, which they hadn’t gotten to shoot yet… two of which I’ve owned for the past four years. I guess when you’re not allowed to own anything, you can’t just walk into a gun shop to check something out; everything seems new to you.

We were walking down the halls of the police department with my little cardboard cutout getting some strange looks from the cadets, who are required to carry plastic blue guns instead of real ones. A couple of young, blonde female 18-year old cadets looked my way, saw the target, and were noticeably impressed. They then looked at me, and… notsomuch.

In short, this has to be the best trip to Canuckistan I’ve had to date. It was a beautiful drive through western NY, where there are still cows and farms (who knew!). In spite of the fact that NY is almost as liberal as all Canada, you wouldn’t have guessed it driving through the countryside. I guess it’s all of those city liberal babies that really screwed everyone else in the state. Canada consisted of some great scenery around Niagra Falls followed by some fantastic steaks at Ruth’s Chris in Ontario, lots of handguns, and even more hacking. All this crammed into three great days. What more could you possibly ask for? Thanks for a great trip guys!