Fans of Franz Ferdinand, the populat beat combo rather than the assassinated Austrian Archduke, will know the ellipsis covers Right Action – the relevance of which may become somewhat less occluded as the text of this post unfurls.
I am now almost two months into my career as a guitarist. OK, career may be over-playing my hand (and current level of mastery) so let’s just say “since I started learning to play” instead. It is proving enormous fun and the fingers on my left hand are callousing up nicely and I seem to be growing use to the loss of feeling (or at least I seem to be dropping stuff less often). Occasionally, brief snatches of something which might almost pass for music are emerging from my guitar: though these are soon smothered beneath a cacophany of notes (or approximations thereto) that even the most extreme proponents of atonal music would have rejected at an early stage of composition. Maybe it is time to start the Third Vienna School – and, to the surprise of many, do it in Southampton.
As I slowly come to grips with my latest self-improvement project (it remains unclear who or what I may be improving myself for), I am discovering the very wide range of jargon that surrounds the guitar: jargon which seems to have been plundered, indiscriminately from many walks of life without any thought to an over-arching theme.
We might start with the size of the instrument. Some guitars are dreadnoughts, but there is no battleship, cruiser or minesweeper. No, as guitars grow smaller they are named after model railway gauges and so an OO and O make an appearance (though on the wron gorder, size-wise). There is no N-gauge, but smaller guitars are named for the parlour in a nod to historic reception rooms. Somewhere in this strange pantheon there also lies the jumbo and the OM (though how the stalwarts of La Ligue came to be associated with the instrument is anyone’s guess).
The fingers of the left hand are numbered, though for the guitarist the thumb doesn’t count, so the numbers are one smaller than for the pianist. The finger of the right hand (where the thumb does count, but the little finger is discarded) are labelled using the first letter of the Spanish name for the digit in question. And why not?
The parts of the instrument are also named in an eccentric manner, ripe for double-entendres (even without venturing into the sound hole). The neck and body seem sensible enough, but the bridge holds the saddle and between the neck and head lies the nut. For the avoidance of doubt, neither saddle nor nut look anything like any of the real world objects for which they might be named. The top string is, in normal (gravitional potential enery based) parlance at the bottom and vice versa: though this does make sense if one considers the pitch rather than position (or stands on one’s head). The clearance of the strings over the fingerboard (which lies atop the neck) and frets is called “the action”. My ancient instrument has a very high action. This means that when attempting to hold the strings down near the nut (required for all my current playing), a prodigious amount of force is necessary: the whites of my knuckles have rarely been on such public display! This has been wearing out my hand and shredding my finger tips: it has also rendered barre chords (where the index finger holds all the strings down at the same time) a distant dream.
To attempt to resolve this issue, and lower its action, I have undertaken surgery on my guitar – and in particular on its nut. This was necessary as my guitar lacks an adjustable truss rod – the metal spine (or cervical portion thereof) that runs through the neck. There were a number of possibilities for modifying the nut, but lacking a specialist set of nut files (yes these really do exist, and they are not cheap) I removed the nut all together and sanded a few millimetres of its substance from its bottom. I can tell you that the unit is question was surprisingly soft and this took but a moment. As you might imagine, given the ever-present nature of my inner child, I found this all terribly amusing. The nut has now been reinstalled and the guitar is almost ready to go. The only complication arising from the surgery was that the top string snapped at the bridge end (not, for the avoidance of doubt, in South Wales). So, I now need to extend the surgery to cover re-stringing. In theory this should be straightforward: I have mastered removal of the bridge pin but have not yet plucked (pun fully intended) up the courage to attempt the re-stringing as the instructions seem surprisingly complicated. Maybe later today I shall screw my courage to the sticking place and see how it goes.
Having obtained the right action for my guitar, all I now need to deal with is the unexpected degree of previously unused flexibility required by my left hand and the fact that when playing my eyes need to simultaneously monitor the actions of my left and right hands and read the music. Having only two eyes, that tend to track together, this is proving a challenge which is so far being resolved by memorising the music and moving my head from side-to-side as though watching a very small tennis match. I’m hoping that better proprioception will come in time, as watching better guitarists they seem capable of playing while their hands go entirely unobserved. Mine cannot, at this early stage, by trusted unsupervised: frankly, they seem to need to be micro-managed. To be honest, I think something went very wrong at the recruitment stage – heads will roll in HR!