Ear-Hand coordination failed me today, but Eye-Hand coordination stepped in.
I played “Maggie May” TWENTY-ONE times today according to iTunes. Sounded great while the microphone was not on. Mic on – not a single good take. Also, I need to stop listening to rock. It’s just too damn fast. You damn kids! (Shakes imaginary cane in air.)
Then I switched to Mr. Tambourine Man. Easy. I can play this with great poignancy on my own. The Byrds, however, play it peppy. (Damn Byrds. Shakes cane at imaginary Byrds.) Then, genius hit me. Bob Dylan did Mr. Tambourine Man! Buy that on iTunes! Kick Bob Dylan’s druggie ass! Sadly, he covered it during his lively articulate phase, not his slow stoned mumbling phase. I tried to think of other slow ponderous yet rocking musicians and could not.
Then I switched to taking apart Mom’s crippled Roomba, which according to the description on the Web had a broken O-Ring (really). Gutted it. Looked at the O-Rings. Both healthy. Put it all back together and tried it again. Even more spastic than before. Then I noticed a piece of masking tape on the side, peeled it off, tried again and the Roomba had a miraculous recovery. Straight as an arrow.
Clearly my destiny is spelled out for me. Slow Country (shudder) guitarist and Roomba repairwomen. This is sad, because I did enjoy being a computer programmer.