VinceT

Hmmm… A bitter-sweet feeling today as I list my Vox AC30 amplifier on eBay (and no, that’s not it in the picture, that’s my Budda Verbmaster – which you’ll have to pry from my cold, dead hands!)

It’s a beautiful amplifier – does everything for which it’s renowned – the AC30 claims lineage to The Beatles, Brian May, Peter Buck, Radiohead and everyone in between. A legendary amp.

And yet.

And yet…

I just can’t find myself in this amp – I can dial in all of the above and more, it’s incredibly flexible, but I haven’t been able to settle in the two years I’ve owned the amp. I gigged it twice

[it's too loud for most local gigs and so very, very HEAVY!!!]

but the rest of the time it’s been in my studio, for recording and incidental practice when my current live amp has been elsewhere.

It’s sad. I so wanted to like this amp, and am still impressed by the tones available. But I finally reached the point where I had to admit it’s not for me.

And, of course, I’ve begun to turn my sights to a replacement

[what do you mean, Mrs T? Of COURSE I need one]

That got me thinking of the musiconomy, the flow of money through music equipment. Here’s what I know:

1. Most musicians don’t make enough money from their music to pay for their equipment
2. We are besieged by the advertising story of ‘elusive’ perfect tone
3. We hear great players (SRV, Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani, et al) and, more often than not, give greater credit to equipment than to the players fingers – reinforced by the marketer’s assertion that we can buy some of their talent

[we can't, they are genius players]

And we buy.

And we buy.

And we buy.

And we get disappointed that the ‘tone’ for which we’re searching doesn’t sit in the new box. And the shops scalp their margins off us. And the piles of equipment that never quite ‘fit’ fill up cupboards and studios the world over – until, sometimes, we decide to sling it on eBay to at least recycle some of the value back into the musiconomy.

All we can hope is that we learned something through the owning.

In the two years since I bought the AC30, I’ve invested time, energy and, yes, money in my playing – I’m a better player now, and increasingly discerning about whatever endangers the signal path between my guitar and amp. I am more certain than ever that the tone is in my fingers.

And not in the AC30.

Why?

Because there’s too much AC30 in it.

Yes, I can dial up all those other players

[and believe me, I was tuning in something close Brian May's tone last night as I reached my sell decision, it sounded amazing]

but maybe that’s the issue. I don’t want it to sound like them. I want it to sound like me.

So I’ll sell… and I’ll buy whatever’s next – the musiconomy will take another turn – and I’ll hope that it’s a blank enough canvas to welcome me home.

It’s a strange grief to finish a work of art and know that you’ve set it free to stand on its own two feet. This conception, this gestation, this nurturing, all leading to this day when it’s done.

Vincet.net has been quiet these past weeks as I’ve written, rewritten and polished a new, unexpected novel – Escalation. This story truly was a gift, written from idea to completion between April 11th and August 26th. My typical multi-year novel-writing span condensed to 4 months; the rewriting, previously laborious and turgid (with way too much attention to detail), now like polishing a few rough edges. The writing has focus, an intensity that I relish and, most of all, characters that think, decide, act and speak as real people.

These people I’ve lived with for months. These people I’ve loved, hated, nurtured, constrained. These people.

And now they’re going to live with other people.

Leaving me with that strange mix of happiness, pride and remorse.

And the ever nagging critic that says other people just won’t ‘get’ them.

Like any parent whose kid has left home, it’s up to me to redesign life without them. And those of you who know me even a little, know that I’m already there.

Escalation will be my fourth published novel and, in the near future, I’ll be taking it into screenplay adaptation – it’ll make a fast, absorbing film.

Team Building (an original screenplay – think ‘Lord of the Flies’ meets ‘The Social Network’) is rewritten and finalized for shopping – that long process will begin soon, a new mountain for me to climb.

Inventing Kenny (a screenplay adaptation of my novel, Family Rules) is already out for review with agents in LA.

Dare Ya (an original screenplay) is underway, structured and mapped, and about a third fully written. It’s a fun story, ‘Kickass’ meets ‘Good Will Hunting’.

Karaoke Criminals (a screenplay adaptation of my novel) is structured for a 4-part series. I’ll start writing the script for that soon. It’ll remain a UK-production (it needs the London!) and, in my wildest dreams, the BBC will grab it with both hands!

And then there’s music: the band, Monkey68, are in fine fettle, booking our Fall/Winter/Spring shows at the moment, and on October 1st, I’m playing New London’s Bean & Leaf Café as part of the acoustic Sinners Circle series – show starts at 7.30pm!

So, am I grieving Escalation? Of course. I’m human.

But I know from all my previous work, that the happiness and pride will long outlast the remorse and sadness. Novels, songs, stories, they all take on their own existence just as soon as they are shared. They become something meaningful to someone else, and that meaning may have little, if anything, to do with my original intent. And that’s fine. That’s art.

But I’ll take this moment of sadness. Just for me. Just for a moment.

Be well, Escalation, make your way in the world. Everything’s going to be fine. I love you.