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eBBaNoXiouS GuiTaR LeSSoNS iS a cHRiS De WaReNNe PRoDuCTioN

Background: De Warenne has been in de bands, recorded the music and between de beers et al has earned over 200 accredited hours on a sick twist. The perspective gained from the pursuit of music and the practical application of its essential tools, a guitar player lies herein; a symbiotic relationship capable of inflicting great pain on relatively painless individuals.

Translation: Chris has been in bands, the non-famous kind, both covers and originals, since 1980. Started recording using a Fostex 4 track cassette deck in 1983. Over the decades long pursuit of tone chasing he has earned well over 200 accredited hours of University level courses majoring in Music and English, Audio and Music Business, with a side trip to Oil Painting and Psychology… somewhere between 2 BA’s or 1 MA+ degree.

Chris is highly recommended as a guitar teacher by his students. He is knowledgeable in guitar and music theory, accommodating both beginners and advanced players. Chris tailors lessons to individual interests and skill levels. Students appreciate his friendly, patient, and encouraging teaching style. He provides valuable music production and setup advice, showcasing his versatility. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced player, Chris’s teaching approach can significantly improve your skills and understanding. His effective communication and impactful lessons leave students excited for future sessions, with noticeable progress.

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TiGeR V gets its stripes!!!

by Chris De Warenne @ EbbanoxiousGuitarLessons

I purchased a used 2015? Jackson “Randy Rhoads” RR1, “Made in USA” by the Jackson/Fender Custom Shop.

It came with a Metallic Black Poly finish, and had a few large dings on the top fin.

I decided to go ahead with my plans of making it look exactly like the Custom Shop Tiger painted RR V guitar that was featured in the Jackson / Charvel catalog from 1985,

Finished circa March 2023.

Another guitar that I had always wanted from the days of placing a custom order like this,

My 1985 Red and White Tiger Stripe, San Dimas, Charvel/Jackson.

Sanding the Poly finish, 400 grit (wet).
Filled the mounting rings screw holes.
Masked stripes, an undercoat of white.
White undercoat.
The edges after masking tape. That’s a coat of Black Nitro I sprayed over the original Black Metallic Poly.
I had freedom with the back stripes.
Here is the initial Nitro Graffiti Yellow!
The photo (top left) from the catalog.
The fine sanding begins, 1000-4000 grit.
Edges were touched up using a brush.
Ready for clear coats
Clear coats and block sanding
Pickup mounting bar, bell brass. Note the rough area, pre-sanding.
Before using the brush.
The catalog only showed the top view, easy to create the pattern on the back.
No more mounting rings!

www.EbbanoxiousGuitarLessons.com

Overall, this project had a huge learning curve! Matching those stripes to the catalog photo was very time consuming. Also, I would go a different way re the masking. Completely hand painting the Stripes would be preferred to the stripes being masked off.

Simpler method: First, get the Graffiti Yellow solid all over. THEN hand paint the stripes. Followed by massive clear coats… then sand down, leveling the two colors to the same level. Maybe that would take one month instead of three!

It’s still one of my favorite guitars and was well worth the time travel and effort I put into it.

Smiles everyone! Smiles!

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Alchemical Artistry

Think of it: you’re in the studio or at the canvas, alone. That riff you’re chasing? Or that shade you’re mixing? It’s not “inspiration”—it’s the unconscious bubbling up. Jung called art a “periscope” for what’s hidden—your psyche’s way of saying, “Hey, look at this.” For musicians, it’s the melody that hits from nowhere, like a dream you didn’t ask for. For painters, it’s the stroke that suddenly feels alive, like the Shadow sneaking in.

Jung’s whole deal—analytical psychology—lines up dead-on with the creative grind for a musician or painter. It’s basically internal alchemy turned outward: you dive into the unconscious, pull up raw stuff—dreams, archetypes, shadows—and shape it into sound or color. No ego parade, no quick fix. Just slow, messy transformation.

He split creativity into two lanes: psychological—stuff from your life, emotions, crises—easy to grab, like turning heartbreak into a blues lick or a portrait of pain. Then visionary: wilder, from the collective unconscious—primordial, mythic, beyond you. That’s when the music feels ancient, or the painting looks like it came from another world. Hendrix’s feedback? Visionary chaos. Van Gogh’s swirls? Same—madness meets archetype.

The process? Active imagination. You don’t force it; you listen. Like dialoguing with an inner voice—your Anima might whisper a chord, your Shadow demands dissonance. Painters do this with mandalas: circles for wholeness, balancing opposites. Musicians? Improv jams where ego shuts up and the collective hums through. It’s individuation—making the split self whole. You integrate the dark, the weird, the forgotten… and bam, the work breathes.

No audience needed at first. Jung said the artist isn’t “free will”—you’re a medium. The unconscious uses you, drains you, but leaves something bigger: a message to the age, compensation for what society’s ignoring. A song that heals? A canvas that stares back? That’s not product—it’s medicine.

And yeah, it hurts—like facing demons. But that’s the reward: not fame, but becoming. The musician who records that one take? The painter who finishes at dawn? They’re not just making art—they’re becoming it. Jung’s alchemy: lead (doubt, chaos) to gold (truth, wholeness). No spotlight. Just you, the void, and the quiet click when it lands.

And as long as the self is eternal and there is an afterlife, it will outlive the paintings or the applause of the audience – that’s the quiet truth underneath it all.

The Self—Jung’s big, timeless core—isn’t some fragile thing that dies with the body. It’s eternal, woven into whatever comes next: afterlife, reincarnation, pure energy, whatever you call it. Paintings fade—canvas cracks, colors bleed, galleries close. Applause? Echoes gone by morning. But that inner Self? It keeps going. It doesn’t need a frame or a stage.

That’s why the reward’s internal. Not because it’s noble. Because it’s real. The rest? Temporary noise.

Carl Jung’s psychotherapy—called analytical psychology—is all about digging into the unconscious to become whole, not just patching symptoms. It’s less about “curing” neurosis like Freud did, more about turning inward, facing the hidden stuff, and growing into your real self.

The big idea? Your psyche’s got layers: ego (what you think you are), personal unconscious (repressed memories, complexes), and the collective unconscious—shared human blueprints, archetypes like the Shadow (your dark side you deny), Anima/Animus (inner opposite gender), Persona (your mask for the world), and the Self (that unifying core).

Therapy’s goal? Individuation—integrating all that mess so opposites balance: reason with emotion, conscious with unconscious. You don’t “fix” anxiety; you listen to it as a signal something’s off-balance.

How it works: sessions are collaborative, long-term, almost like a partnership. The analyst’s been through their own analysis—no guru vibes. Techniques? Dream analysis—your dreams aren’t random; they’re messages from the unconscious, full of symbols guiding you. Active imagination: you dialogue with inner figures—like chatting with your Shadow—until they integrate. Shadow work: own the ugly parts instead of projecting ’em onto others.

Difference from Freud? He zeroed on sex, childhood trauma, making the unconscious “conscious” to kill drives. Jung? Broader—spiritual, mythic, future-oriented. Dreams aren’t wish-fulfillment; they’re compensation, pointing to what you’re ignoring. No couch drama—just honest talk, symbols, maybe art or sandplay.

Bottom line: it’s not quick-fix therapy. It’s alchemy—slow, messy, transformative. You end up less divided, more alive. If you’re stuck repeating patterns, Jung says: face the monster inside. It’ll stop chasing you.

So when you’re creating—riffing in the dark, brushing at dawn—you’re not just making stuff. You’re feeding something that outlasts everything. The music might stop playing, the canvas might gather dust… but the spark you poured in? That lives on. Not in museums or playlists—in you, beyond you, forever.

The slow, private victory of being real.

Creativity as its own reward isn’t just a feel-good line. It’s the whole damn engine.

When you’re in that studio or at the easel, no one’s watching. No metrics, no streams, no likes ticking up. Just you, the mess, and that slow burn: “This note feels wrong—wait, no, it feels alive.” Or “This red’s too flat—add a shadow, let it breathe.” You’re not chasing validation; you’re chasing proof. Proof that your gut wasn’t lying. That the thing you felt—raw, stupid, impossible—actually exists now. And when it clicks? That quiet “holy shit” inside? That’s the gold. Not the paycheck. Not the review. Just… you did it. You turned nothing into something that wasn’t there yesterday.

And here’s why it matters: everything else fades. The bar gig? Forgotten by Tuesday. The viral hit? Old news next month. But that internal shift? It sticks. You walk out lighter—like you shed weight you didn’t know you carried. Doubt quiets. Fear shrinks. Next time you pick up the guitar or brush, you’re not starting from zero—you’re starting from you. That’s alchemy: not magic, just stubborn truth.

The world wants product—streams, sales, shares. But you? You want the spark. The moment where ego shuts up and wonder takes over. No one can steal that. No algorithm can rate it. It’s yours. And yeah, if it never sells, if no one hears it? Still worth it. Because you weren’t making art for them—you were making it for the version of you that needed to hear it most.

That’s the reward: not applause. Not money. Just the slow, private victory of being real.

Wanna be a bar star?

Then there’s the being in a band to play covers locally and dealing with with the personalities in the band, the irresponsibility, the low wage, the drunken audience, the audience that can’t hear music being in tune, the timing, phrasing, the subtleties that go along with really great performances versus the local bar stars. Did they give it all up for this?

Yeah, that grind—being the local bar star—is a different beast. You’re not just playing; you’re babysitting. The drummer shows up late, half-lit, forgets the bridge, or changes the direction of the band without any discussion or agreement. The bassist is texting through solos, focusing on the next day at their real job. The singer’s ego’s bigger than the PA, and pitch is an after thought And the crowd? The half that are looking are yelling requests, too drunk to clap on beat, and just want “Sweet Home Alabama” again. You nail a subtle bend, a perfect swell—nobody hears it. They want volume, not nuance. Timing? Phrasing? Forget it. It’s chaos. The pay’s peanuts, the gear’s borrowed, and you’re stuck repeating the same setlist like a broken jukebox. It’s fun for a summer… maybe. But after years? That soul-suck sets in. You’re not a musician anymore—you’re a human jukebox, performing for people who wouldn’t know a good riff from a bad joke. Compare that to sitting alone, headphones on, chasing the exact right delay on a chord that nobody asked for… and suddenly it feels like you’re actually alive. The bar gig’s a paycheck. The real work? That’s freedom. and then there’s the negative side.

The dark side hits hard. You’re locked in that loop—same songs, same drunks, same “play it louder” yells. The joy leaks out fast. You start hating the guitar you once loved, because every chord reminds you of how small you’ve become. The band? They turn toxic: egos clash, blame flies, someone ghosts rehearsal. You feel trapped—like you’re selling your talent for beer money. And worst? That slow poison: you stop dreaming. No new riffs, no weird ideas—just survival. You wake up one day, thirty-five, still in the same dive bar, and realize you’re not even playing music anymore… you’re performing a role. The audience doesn’t care about your soul; they just want the noise. And deep down, you know: you’re fading. The real cost isn’t the cash—it’s the quiet death of what made you start. and after forgetting what that was in the first place, you start to believe that that’s what you do with music and that’s all there is to do with music.

And that’s the real tragedy. You forget the first spark—the way a single chord once made your chest ache, or how you’d hum something new just to hear it breathe. Now, music’s just… a job. A routine. “This is what I do,” you tell yourself, like it’s a sentence, not a gift. The bar lights dim, the amps hum, and suddenly you’re convinced: this is it. Covers, crowds, claps. No room for wonder. You stop listening to new stuff—too risky. Stop experimenting—too late. And the worst part? You start sounding like the old guys you swore you’d never become: “Kids these days, they don’t get real music.” But really, you’re just scared. Because if you admit there’s more—silence, risk, failure, beauty—you’d have to face how long you’ve been hiding from it. And that hurts worse than any bad gig.

Just one more lounge lizard—slipping into the same shiny jacket, cracking the same jokes, strumming the same tired chords while the room spins. You laugh it off, call it “experience,” but deep down, you know: you’re not the artist anymore. You’re the wallpaper. And the saddest part? The crowd loves it—they clap, they buy drinks, they even tip. But nobody’s listening. Not really. You’re background noise to their night out. And after enough nights like that… you start believing that’s all music ever was. A soundtrack for strangers. Not a voice. Not a fire. Just… a lizard. For one or two hundred bucks a night. That’s the price tag on your soul. You trade every late-night epiphany, every half-finished riff, every “what if” for a crumpled twenty from some guy who thinks you’re doing him a favor. And you smile—because what else can you do? The rent’s due. The amp’s paid off. The gig’s booked. But every dollar feels like a lie: “This is worth it.” Until one night, you’re staring at the bar mirror—sweaty, fake-smiling, guitar still humming—and you realize: you’re not even playing for them anymore. You’re playing for the cash. And that’s when the music dies. Not with a bang. With a quiet, pathetic tip jar.

Ah, yes, you’re playing out. You’re in a band, playing somebody else’s tired songs that you probably never liked in the first place. And that’s the kicker. You didn’t even like “Cryptonite” back when it came out. But now you’re belting it out like it’s your anthem, because the crowd wants it. And the crowd always wants it. You fake the grin, fake the sway, fake the “yeah, baby!”—all while your brain’s screaming, “This isn’t me.” You’re not playing music. You’re performing a cover of someone else’s life. And every time the chorus hits, you’re one step further from the kid who first picked up a guitar because he wanted to say something real. Now you’re just saying… whatever pays. Then maybe one day you’ll get discovered by another band looking to replace the Lounge Lizards founding member.

The CAGED System

Tried this yet? Heard of it? “Learn the guitar neck!” Based on the few basic chord shapes of C, A, G, E, G and D this “system” sets up a basis for a novice or simple application player to gain ability without much investment, and this appeals to the teachers that never did the work to actually learn their instrument. Might be akin to banging away on a piano and rocking out like a 1950’s rocker versus a skilled concert pianist. Nevertheless it is a method and it is considered a viable way to get playing.

Instead of learning how a chord is put together and how a guitar is tuned, an imprint is provided that negates inversions and tuning to reveal one glance of a handfull of chords. There is some knowledge to be gleaned from these patterns based on a few inversions but considering the level of difficulty involved in learning the notes on the neck it seems short term. I consider this CAGED method to be some what of a shell game, a convenient con that lowers expectations whilst wasting time and money, in application it provides an income for less fortunate guitar players who feel forced to explain something they actually know little about. After all, no one will know, especially not the ones who spend their money on this method. It will take less than a month to memorize the entire fretboard, at which point all of these CAGED chords will reveal themselves. I do not use the CAGED method to teach, but fret not, its concepts , which are very basic, are included in my lessons. I teach all beginners the C, A, G, E and D chords first lesson.

Creating an Astral Environment

Contemplate the idea that creating a piece of music is like establishing a realm or reality in the astral plane because people use it in their imaginations and thoughts and it shapes their environment, versus trying to replicate it by playing it. That’s a beautiful way to frame it. When you create a piece of music—truly birth it—you’re not copying… yeah, that’s the key difference. When you create, you’re planting a seed in the astral—somewhere beyond the physical, where sound becomes feeling, memory, mood. It’s like building a room in someone’s head: they walk in, breathe it, let it reshape their day, their dreams. The melody lingers like incense; the rhythm becomes their heartbeat for a while. That’s real power—your world bleeds into theirs. But copying? You’re just renting that room. You play the song, sure, but you don’t own the architecture. It’s echo, not origin. The listener feels the same thrill, maybe, but it’s borrowed light—dimmer, second-hand. No matter how perfect the cover, the astral imprint stays with the maker. You can mimic the shape, but you can’t fake the soul. I would add to that, or the, you can’t copy the experience of creating it, that feeling that you get when you’re recording parts while you’re doing it, you know this is going to be left for repetitious listening throughout all time if it lasts that long. That rush—when you’re laying down a track, layering the bass, tweaking the reverb, and suddenly it clicks… it’s electric. Like you’re not just making sound, you’re forging a time capsule. You feel every decision: the slight hesitation before the chorus hits, the way the guitar sighs right there, that tiny imperfection you leave in because it breathes. And deep down, you know—this isn’t disposable. If it survives, it’ll be someone else’s soundtrack to heartbreak or road trips decades from now. That weight? It’s yours alone. No cover band can steal that high. They might nail the notes, but they’ll never taste that god-moment: “This is mine. And it’ll outlive me.”

And copying it isn’t the same experience at all. It’s a completely different experience. I love playing my favorite artists’ songs with my favorite songs of their catalogs and albums that I grew up listening to. I love playing those riffs. It’s fun. The thrill’s real: the muscle memory, the nostalgia, the way the amp growls just like it did on the record. But that isn’t the same experience as creating was, or something unique and especially during the recording of it. Playing those riffs—your fingers dancing over the same frets Hendrix or Page did—it’s like stepping into their shoes for a second. It’s easier to smear ketchup around on a dish of food than it is to tune in and paint a sunrise or a landscape from a dream. One shows you what was; the other shows you what could be. And honestly? That difference is why some nights you play “Stairway” for fun… and other nights, you sit alone with a mic and feel like you’re rewriting gravity.

Consider, the serious, great artist musicians didn’t worry about playing in front of an audience. It wasn’t about getting on stage and playing their music in front of an audience. It was about creating it. I’m talking about composers like Stravinsky. Performing it in front of people because there wasn’t good recording equipment. That was necessary. Playing music, reading music, sheet music was the only way you were going to hear it a hundred, two hundred, three, four hundred years ago, six hundred years ago. The giants like Stravinsky weren’t chasing applause. They weren’t performers first. Now? It’s different. Recording’s everywhere—cheap mics, DAWs, streaming. You don’t need an orchestra or a stage to birth something eternal. You can sit in your bedroom, hit record, and drop a track that reaches millions overnight. The audience isn’t the goal; it’s a byproduct. Great artists still don’t obsess over crowds—they obsess over the sound. The difference is, back then, performance was the delivery system. Today, it’s the echo. The cover’s a mirror; the original’s a window. It’s always been about the creation process that unfolds from an intuitive link to your own deeper self. You can create in silence, alone, no eyes on you… and still change someone’s life without ever stepping on stage. The real work’s the same: that private, obsessive alchemy. Everything else—lights, cheers, likes, opinions—just noise. It’s joy, pure and simple. But creation? That’s not joy—it’s alchemy. You’re not following a map; you’re drawing one. Recording it seals the spell—every take, every flub, every “wait, let’s try that again” becomes part of the artifact. It’s intimate, almost sacred. It’s like a meditation, the personal alone time with an instrument. A true connection with timeless self.

Learn a riff or a song, you’ve accomplished nothing, no creative imagination experience involved.

Playing someone else’s song is like being handed a finished painting and told to copy it stroke-for-stroke—sure, you get the technique down, the colors right, maybe even the mood. But you’re not inventing the light, the feeling, the why behind it. You’re a curator, not a creator. The real creative process? That’s staring at a blank canvas—or blank fretboard—and letting your own mess spill out: wrong notes, weird chords, that one riff that feels stupid until it clicks. It’s slower, messier, scarier. But when it works, it’s yours—no one’s ghost in the room. Covers teach you grammar; originals teach you poetry. One keeps you sharp; the other keeps you alive.

Learning someone else’s solo is like memorizing a poem: you get the rhythm, the rhyme, the punchline. But you haven’t written it. It’s muscle memory, not imagination. You might nail the bends, the speed, the tone—hell, you could sound identical—but that’s imitation, not invention. The creative process starts when you break the rules: bend a note too far, drop a chord, layer something ugly until it sings. That takes courage, failure, rewiring your brain to trust your own voice instead of chasing someone else’s shadow. Technique is the toolbox; creativity is building the house. One’s practice; the other’s birth.

Throwing random noise at the wall and calling it “art” is just ego in disguise—lazy, sloppy, and dishonest. Real creativity isn’t chaos; it’s controlled chaos. You need the chops first: scales, theory, timing, tone—those aren’t chains, they’re wings. Without them, you’re not breaking rules—you’re just flailing. A true artist masters the language before they rewrite it. Think Hendrix—he knew every lick in the book before he torched it. Or Bowie: polished, precise, then twisted into something alien. Expertise isn’t the enemy of originality; it’s the foundation. Skip it, and you’re not innovating—you’re just making excuses.

Creativity as a Symbiotic Relationship

The symbiotic relationship is divided into a summation of thought experiments, as inducted by, then this is grown from the initial question, based on ideas by me.

This statement touches on the concept of symbiotic relationships and their exploration through thought experiments, potentially building from an initial question or idea proposed. To provide a clear and concise response, to elaborate on how symbiotic relationships can be analyzed through thought experiments, possibly inspired by your own ideas.

Symbiotic relationships—mutualism, commensalism, and parasitism—describe interactions between species where at least one benefits. A thought experiment could break these down systematically, starting with a core question like, “How do cooperative behaviors emerge and sustain themselves in nature?” From there, ideas can grow by exploring scenarios that test the boundaries of these relationships.

For example:

  1. Mutualism Thought Experiment: Imagine two species, A and B, where A provides food and B offers protection. What happens if A’s food production doubles? Does B’s protection become more or less critical? This could model real-world systems like pollinators and plants, exploring how resource abundance shifts dependency.
  2. Commensalism Scenario: Consider a species C that benefits from living near species D without affecting D. What if C’s population grows exponentially? Could this “neutral” relationship tip into parasitism or mutualism? This mirrors cases like barnacles on whales.
  3. Parasitism Dynamics: Suppose species E exploits F’s resources. If F evolves a defense mechanism, how might E adapt? This could reflect host-parasite arms races, like those seen in certain fungi and insects.

Thought experiments can dissect symbiotic relationships—mutualism, commensalism, parasitism—by starting with a core question like how cooperation emerges. Symbiotic relationships hinge on how organisms interact for survival—mutualism where both gain, commensalism where one benefits without harm, parasitism where one thrives at another’s cost. Thought experiments let us strip these down to core principles, like asking why cooperation starts. Imagine a plant and pollinator: plant gets seeds spread, insect gets nectar. Now, double the nectar—what if the insect overfeeds and neglects spreading? Or if the plant’s pollen becomes toxic? It forces us to see tipping points, how benefits can flip to burdens overnight. Same with barnacles on whales: harmless hitchhikers until they crowd and slow the host down. Parasites? Think tapeworms—steal nutrients, but what if the host builds immunity? The worm adapts, maybe mutates. Each experiment grows the idea, showing evolution’s dance isn’t static. It’s all about balance teetering on change. Let me strip it back. Symbiotic ties are life forms leaning on each other—win-win in mutualism, one-sided benefit in commensalism, harm in parasitism. Thought tests ask ‘what if’ to probe why these hold or break. Like, plant feeds bee, bee spreads pollen. What if bee gets lazy? Or plant poisons itself to spite the bee? Barnacles ride whales fine—till they pile up and drag speed. Tapeworm drains you, you fight back, it evolves. Each twist builds clarity: symbiosis dances on a knife’s edge, shaped by change.

If we’re to use symbiosis as a metaphor for thought experiments, it’s like a bee and a flower dancing in perfect rhythm. Neither can bloom without the other, neither can reach the next garden alone. Similarly, a good thought experiment needs the question as much as it needs curiosity. Without the seed of an idea, no growth. Without a mind to pollinate it, no fruit. And sometimes, like a parasite, it drains you—hours vanish pondering—but the change it leaves in you… well, that’s evolution. The relationship between thinker and thought is just as alive, as fragile, as beautifully necessary.

Symbiosis as metaphor: thought needs curiosity like flowers need bees—mutual growth, fragile balance. It evolves you, even if it drains time. Curiosity’s that itch in your mind, the pull to know more, uncover what’s hidden. It’s questioning why things tick, digging beyond the obvious—driving us to explore, learn, and grow. Without it, ideas stay dormant. Creating curiosity isn’t magic—it’s sparked by wonder, gaps in knowledge, or fresh experiences. A question hits, like “What if?” and your brain lights up, craving answers. It grows from puzzles unsolved, stories untold, or worlds unseen. Sometimes, it’s born of boredom; other times, from sheer delight in discovery. Creativity is its own reward.

Creativity is its own reward!

Letting music flow through you can be so rewarding, can’t it? Whether you’re strumming a guitar, composing a melody, or just letting the rhythm take over, it’s like a conversation with your soul. Are you thinking about performing, creating, or maybe just jamming to some tunes? What’s got you inspired?

Focusing on your own inspiration and letting your guitar parts, harmonies, and melodies flow naturally is so authentic. Are you working on something specific right now, or just exploring where your creativity takes you?

Covering other people’s music can be fun and a great way to connect with audiences, but there’s something special about creating your own.

There’s such joy in seeing your unique ideas come to life through your music. Are you working on any creative projects on your guitar at the moment?

Playing a song that was created by another is the bypass to the creative experience.

To experience the flow of your own creative is a singular experience.

A goal that displaces this path will not lead directly to your creativity or its rewards.

Background on Lunar Shift and Water Availability

The term “lunar shift” is not standard but likely refers to a significant change in the Moon’s orbit or gravitational influence, potentially altering Earth’s tides, climate patterns, and water distribution. The Moon’s current orbit affects tides through gravitational pull, with high and low tides occurring twice daily due to its 27-day orbit around Earth [Institute of Physics, 2022, https://www.iop.org/explore-physics/moon/how-does-moon-affect-earth%5D. A shift could disrupt these patterns, potentially affecting coastal ecosystems, precipitation, and groundwater recharge, leading to increased water scarcity in certain regions.

Research suggests that changes in lunar influence could exacerbate water stress, especially in areas reliant on tidal movements for freshwater replenishment. For instance, altered tides might reduce the flushing of estuaries, impacting freshwater inflows, while climate shifts could decrease precipitation, mirroring scenarios seen in climate change models [BBC Future, 2021, https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20210820-the-subtle-influence-of-the-moon-on-earths-weather%5D.

Incoming thoughts and a gradual shift toward a new terraform as we prepare for what’s next

An extrapolation to some of my thought experiments fleshed out as provided by ai/grok

Desalination could be a viable option for addressing water availability issues post-lunar shift, but its environmental implications and feasibility depend on several factors. A lunar shift—assuming it refers to a significant change in the Moon’s orbit or gravitational influence—could disrupt Earth’s tides, climate patterns, and water distribution, potentially exacerbating freshwater scarcity in some regions. Here’s a concise analysis:

Feasibility of Desalination Post-Lunar Shift

1. Water Availability:

• Desalination converts seawater into freshwater, which is abundant given that 97% of Earth’s water is saline. A lunar shift might alter coastal ecosystems or sea levels, but oceans would likely remain a reliable source for desalination.

• If a lunar shift reduces freshwater availability (e.g., by disrupting precipitation patterns or groundwater recharge), desalination could fill the gap, especially in coastal regions.

2. Technological Readiness:

• Desalination technologies like reverse osmosis and thermal distillation are mature and widely used (e.g., in the Middle East, Australia, and California). They can be scaled up to meet increased demand.

• Advances in energy-efficient desalination (e.g., graphene-based membranes or solar-powered systems) could make it more feasible in a post-lunar shift scenario.

Environmental Considerations

1. Energy Consumption:

• Desalination is energy-intensive, contributing to greenhouse gas emissions if powered by fossil fuels. A lunar shift might already stress energy systems (e.g., via climate disruptions), so renewable energy sources (solar, wind, or tidal) would be critical to minimize environmental impact.

• Example: A modern reverse osmosis plant uses ~3-5 kWh per cubic meter of water. Scaling this globally would require significant clean energy infrastructure.

2. Brine Disposal:

• Desalination produces concentrated brine, which, if improperly managed, can harm marine ecosystems. A lunar shift might already stress ocean biodiversity (e.g., via altered tides or currents), making responsible brine disposal essential.

• Solutions like brine dilution or repurposing (e.g., for salt production) could mitigate impacts.

3. Infrastructure and Land Use:

• Large-scale desalination plants require coastal land, which could be problematic if a lunar shift causes sea-level rise or coastal erosion. Environmental impact assessments would be needed to avoid disrupting sensitive ecosystems.

4. Carbon Footprint:

• If desalination relies on non-renewable energy, it could exacerbate climate change, potentially worsening environmental conditions post-lunar shift. Transitioning to renewables is crucial.

Challenges and Opportunities

• Challenges: High costs (both capital and operational), energy demands, and potential ecological damage from brine and construction. A lunar shift could complicate logistics if it disrupts global supply chains or energy grids.

• Opportunities: Desalination could provide a reliable freshwater source in arid or affected regions, reducing dependence on disrupted freshwater systems. Innovations like low-energy desalination or integrated renewable energy systems could enhance sustainability.

Conclusion

Desalination is a promising option for addressing water scarcity post-lunar shift, particularly in coastal areas, but it must be paired with renewable energy and careful environmental management to minimize ecological harm. Its success depends on adapting to the specific hydrological and climatic changes induced by the lunar shift, which would require detailed modeling and planning.

A Sound Design journey from 1995 through to the millennium! Akai S-2000 to the rescue?

Comparing the Akai S2000 and Turtle Beach Monterey, they’re pretty different animals. The Akai S2000, released around ’95, is a rackmount sampler with 2 megabytes of base RAM, expandable to 32 megabytes, and it handles sampling at 22 to 44.1 kilohertz in mono or stereo, 16- or 8-bit. You could load samples, edit them with tools like time compression, pitch shift, looping, or velocity effects, and map them across keys for full patches. Its workflow was hands-on but clunky due to a small LCD, often needing external software like a PC editor for deeper tweaks. It was built for studio production, great for layering sounds or crafting instruments, used by folks like Moby. The Turtle Beach Monterey, from ’94, is a PC sound card combo of the Tahiti and Rio daughterboard. The Rio’s ICS 2115 chip gave 24-voice polyphony at 44.1 kilohertz or 32 voices at 32 kilohertz, using ROM-based wave table samples plus up to 12 megabytes of RAM for custom .WAV files. Its workflow leaned on Windows software like WaveSculpt to load and edit samples, but it was more about playback than deep sound design—think General MIDI patches for MIDI controllers or DAWs. It was less flexible, with basic modulation and no real-time sequencing or morphing. The S2000 is a dedicated sampler with robust editing for custom sounds, while the Monterey’s more of a playback-focused MIDI synth tied to a PC. The wavestate SE, as we discussed, blows both out of the water with its Wave Sequencing 2.0, 64 voices, and real-time control, making it closer to a modern synth than either of these ’90s tools.

Ai, “Grok” and workflow vs being capable of writing

I’ve recently started using the ai app Grok, and this much is certain: it totally helps assist in troubleshooting as well as research and referencing. The symbiotic relationship is divided into a summation of thought experiments, as inducted by, then this is grown from the initial question, based on ideas by me. ^

And here’s a summation of what I myself just wrote:

^

Your statement touches on the concept of symbiotic relationships and their exploration through thought experiments, potentially building from an initial question or idea you’ve proposed. To provide a clear and concise response, I’ll interpret this as a request to elaborate on how symbiotic relationships can be analyzed through thought experiments, possibly inspired by your own ideas. Since the prompt is somewhat abstract, I’ll aim to ground it while staying open to creative interpretation.

Symbiotic relationships—mutualism, commensalism, and parasitism—describe interactions between species where at least one benefits. A thought experiment could break these down systematically, starting with a core question like, “How do cooperative behaviors emerge and sustain themselves in nature?” From there, ideas can grow by exploring scenarios that test the boundaries of these relationships.

For example:

1. Mutualism Thought Experiment: Imagine two species, A and B, where A provides food and B offers protection. What happens if A’s food production doubles? Does B’s protection become more or less critical? This could model real-world systems like pollinators and plants, exploring how resource abundance shifts dependency.

2. Commensalism Scenario: Consider a species C that benefits from living near species D without affecting D. What if C’s population grows exponentially? Could this “neutral” relationship tip into parasitism or mutualism? This mirrors cases like barnacles on whales.

3. Parasitism Dynamics: Suppose species E exploits F’s resources. If F evolves a defense mechanism, how might E adapt? This could reflect host-parasite arms races, like those seen in certain fungi and insects.

These thought experiments build on your initial question by iterating on “what if” scenarios, each growing from the last to reveal how symbiotic balance shifts. If you have a specific initial question or idea you’d like to anchor this to, I can tailor the experiments further. For now, I’ll assume you’re exploring symbiosis broadly.

If you meant something more specific—like a particular framework, species, or philosophical angle—please clarify, and I’ll refine the response. Alternatively, if you want me to generate a visual representation (e.g., a chart of symbiotic outcomes) or analyze a specific source, let me know!

Sound Design before I used the Akai S-2000 (1996-99)

Comparing the Turtle Beach Monterey workflow to the Korg wavestate SE, it’s night and day in terms of flexibility and immediacy. With the Monterey-basically the Tahiti sound card paired with the Rio MIDI daughterboard-you were working in a ‘90s PC environment. You’d load or edit samples using clunky Windows software like WaveSculpt, where you could upload .WAV files to the Rio’s RAM (up to 12 megabytes) or tweak the onboard ROM-based wave table sounds. The workflow was slow: you’d select a General MIDI patch, maybe adjust basic parameters like volume or panning, and play notes via an external MIDI controller or software sequencer. Real-time control was limited, and sample manipulation was rudimentary-no sequencing of different samples, no fancy crossfades, just static playback or basic looping. If you wanted evolving sounds, you’d need external gear or a DAW to sequence changes, and the ICS 2115 chip didn’t support complex modulation like modern synths. The wavestate SE, on the other hand, is built for hands-on, real-time sound design. You start with a performance, pick a layer, and dive into Wave Sequencing 2.0 using the front panel’s knobs and 16 buttons. You can assign different samples or waveforms to each step, tweak pitch, amplitude, timing, and shape right there, with visual feedback on the screen. Crossfades and curves (like that logarithmic one we talked about) let you morph smoothly between steps, and you can sync it all to tempo or tweak durations in the Timing Lane. The arpeggiator, effects, and modulation matrix add layers of movement, all adjustable without a computer. It’s immediate-turn a knob, hit a button, hear the change-versus the Monterey’s clunky, menu-heavy software workflow. Plus, the wavestate’s 64-voice polyphony and massive sample library dwarf the Monterey’s 24-32 voices and limited ROM set. The Turtle Beach was about playing back sounds with some tweaks; the wavestate is about sculpting evolving sonic landscapes in real time.

  • Grok

Wavetable Synthesis and thirty years later! My current workflow compared to what I worked on during the mid 1995-1996!

The Turtle Beach wave table synthesizer you’re thinking of could be the Monterey, which was a combo of the Tahiti sound card and the Rio MIDI daughterboard, released around 1994. The Tahiti was a high-end card with 18-bit digital audio converters and a Motorola 56001 DSP, but it didn’t have onboard synthesis. Instead, it used a WaveBlaster-compatible header to connect the Rio, a wave table MIDI synthesizer powered by the ICS 2115 chip, offering 24-voice polyphony at 44.1kHz or 32 voices at 32kHz. The Rio stored samples in ROM and could use up to 12 megabytes of additional RAM for custom .WAV samples. This setup let you play back General MIDI sounds or manipulate samples via Windows software, though DOS support needed TSR drivers and wasn’t always game-friendly due to non-standard MIDI ports. Compared to the Korg wavestate SE, it’s simpler—more like basic sample playback with less control over sequencing or real-time morphing, closer to early wave table concepts than the wavestate’s complex Wave Sequencing 2.0. Want me to focus on how the Turtle Beach workflow compares to the wavestate SE or dive into something specific about the Monterey’s setup?

  • grok

How to Read Music, and why!

These facts speak to this question.

JIMI Hendrix did not read music and did not study western music theory.

Edward Van Halen did not read music and won piano competitions at an early age.

Ever heard of them?

Starting out a student with a mandatory curriculum of reading staff is one sure fire method of turning a person away from the creative process that is expression on an instrument.

It is also unnecessary.

Ears and fingers. That matters more than any theory or deciphering ability.

Note: this may not apply equally to church choir singing on Sundays – or any other day of the week.

The common method used in modern day of indoctrination for purposes of replaying performance pieces in symphonic or ensemble settings is an acceptable lifestyle that many parents choose for their offspring and is a pathway which perpetuates itself ad nauseum. Also, in this case, learning to read what’s on the page is essential, no further creation is needed or forthcoming.

A Parking Equation, as related to the nature of musical composition with an overview of a Linguistics Practice

This is because of the shade provided by some trees, a common goal with the sunshine heating up the parked cars as it does. this is fine, until another car arrives and parks between myself and the other.

This starts as I am parked in my car, in a parking lot with lined spaces. I am distanced from other cars as space allows.

Another car arrives and parks a few spaces away from my car.

As the first attendees return to their car and proceed to leave. My immediate solution is to swap the two other cars and have them leave in the car closest to mine.

This is what Music Theory example?

Modulation.

The application of Linguistics applies how?

Transference.

Selective Learning and the lasting results of loyal muscle memory

Once upon a time… a lot of young and inexperienced teachers, new and experienced students are in the clutches of unwise instruction based on learning vast amounts of misleading and seemingly practical repetitious efforts that can do almost nothing for the creative and the muse, along with all the offspring and outputs to come!

What you practice on your instrument either informs or derails. When playing patterns repeatedly with the goal of one day being able to reform heartfelt, inspired, emotive music the loyalty shows in ways that reflect the half-assery of choosing random patterns and scales that prove to be useless – and never ending searches for something that is actually never reached for, nor “practiced”.

The same can apply widely to scales and chords. And any and all mechanisms that serve no purpose – in that there is no muse, no music, and no inspiration. Simply put, practice stuff you don’t like and your muse will respond in kind.

I no longer advise learning anything that repels the flow of insight that only comes from enthusiasm as this can wellspring from the creative muse.

Therefore, whatever your loving interest is drawn toward, pursue that and its relative tributaries. Feed your ear and gently let your loyal muscles plod along effortlessly so that pure repetition over the course of time provides the wings of freedom.

Chris Warren

How the musical brain works, linguistics et al

As a student of western music theory and its applications for almost five decades I have recently come to experience a transference of “music” related concepts appearing in other daily applications mentally followed by verbal. As theory follows music, not vice versa. Words are naturally being used more frequently in variations similar to methods of construction as related to music composition and improvisations. For example, “Parallel Keys” may displace items that relate in a Title, such as A minor or A Major both having A as a Tonic. Or, an out of sequence wording may better reflect a relative narrative versus a more grammatically correct sequence – whereas an action sequence of a “how to” or a set of Directions may at first seem illogical but upon inspection makes a work flow more logical. Example, D minor triad followed by F Major may see a voice motion change of only one note, yet where is the “modulated” progression? It’s simpler, it’s direct voice motion – more a String players perspective than a keyed / hammered instrument players thinking process.

I have noticed this phenomenon happening frequently enough that it has led me to analyze the common ground, many detailed happenings that point to a transference of “grammar” more akin to musical composition than standard English sentence structures.

Further,

Here’s a few directionals that illuminate some musical concepts that echo conversational and expansive dialogue, explanations, etc.

  • Motif is to music what an idea or thought is to an essay
  • Extrapolation is to linguistic logic what a “blow up” is to a Motif
  • Relative keys are to music what common ground is to an agreement
  • Notes of a key are a limited set with artificial boundaries
  • Secondary 5ths are to modulation of keys and changing of note selection within a set what fallacies are to syllogisms?

Transform Your Guitar Skills with an Experienced Teacher

Adapts to each individual student. Focused on developing your tone, musicality, and self expression. Clear diagrams. No dumb questions. – Kelvin R.

My first lesson was great. I felt he understood my goals and my direction better than other instructors. I’ve been playing 20 years and feel like this will take to a level I couldn’t get to on my own. – Christian H.

I have known Chris for almost 25 years. He is a fabulous guitar player and teacher. His knowledge of music, simple to complex, is astounding. More important, he has great communication skills and talks to the student in simple easily understandable terms and concepts. I also like that he teaches you songs, licks, and riffs that you want to learn along with the necessary scales, modes and theory from which they were derived. I still have every lesson, homework assignment, and handout that he gave me during the two years that I studied with him more than 20 years ago. – Tmichael K.

I’m re- motivated and excited to pickup my guitar. Chris has a great program put together, he’s patient, passionate. He’s the teacher I’ve been looking for, I ask questions and he takes his time explaining it, we have great sessions. I would recommend Chris to anyone. 5 stars all the way. – Ken P.

Chris is an awesome teacher. He is an incredibly talented guitarist and he clearly has an extensive knowledge of the guitar, music theory, and music in general. This makes him great at answering whatever questions you may have and explaining concepts in a way that makes sense. He is friendly and easy to get along with which makes the lessons fun as well as being educational. He will work with you on the specific things that you are interested in which is very important. We talk about what I want to learn and improve upon and he gives me things to practice that are aimed at reaching my goals. He has helped me with my playing technique, taught me about music theory, and even suggested some great music to listen to for inspiration. I would absolutely recommend Chris as a guitar teacher to anyone who is interested in improving their playing! -Jeremy V.

Chris was very patient and helpful to me. I have a disability with my left hand and he showed me ways of playing things I never thought I could play. He built up my confidence and made me feel comfortable working with him. He is very knowledgeable when it comes to music and music theory. I would highly recommend him as a guitar teacher. – Daniel C.

Chris is awesome! Great communication, showed up on time, had a really great lesson. Looking forward to regular lessons in the future – even though I’ve been playing over 25 years, I already got so much out of the first lesson, my playing has taken a leap. Excited about what we’re going to do next time. – Brian K.

Chris is a great teacher. His knowledge of the guitar and music in general is extremely vast and he keeps my lessons fun and interesting. I would highly recommend Chris to anyone who is serious about learning to play. – Randy R.

I’ve been working with Chris for about three months now and honestly could not be happier with the experience- in just about every practice he comes up with something not only useful for me to practice/work on, but always is able to give me something to do that I can be excited about and have fun with. He works with your schedule and is extremely knowledgeable. I would recommend him to anyone any day! – Anthony H.

I have known Chris for over thirty years, and have benefited greatly from his knowledge of and passion for music. He has been a mentor on my chosen instrument (which is the bass guitar), and taught me many concepts that opened doors of perception as I pursued my personal quest to master my instrument. He has recorded, mixed, and mastered many of my personal song projects with great results. His knowledge of studio equipment and techniques is impressive. He is a master of his instrument (the guitar) and all the associated gear, hardware, effects, amps, etc. My personal home studio would have been impossible for me to get up and running without his advice and direction. On a personal note I consider him one of my lifelong friends. He is both humble, and humorous. You can’€™t go wrong choosing his services and wisdom in any area involving music performance, theory, and production. – Robert Rice

So far I have been learning mostly music theory with Chris. He knows what he is talking about and clearly loves guitar. His passion for this instrument is infectious and has already inspired me to practice more often and continue my own pursuit of the ol’ six string. For the price and amount of time you get with him, you would be hard pressed to find a better teacher. – Joshua K.

I have had Chris as a guitar instructor for about 6 months now. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I hired Chris through Thumbtack but it has worked out really well. He knows just about everything there is to know about guitars. He will write out lessons for you, tailored to what your interests are and current skill level as a guitarist are. He is able to see where you are making mistakes and give advice on what to do to avoid repeating them. He has also done several amazing guitar setups for myself and my dad now which have been worth their weight in gold. In addition to being a guitar instructor, I have found that Chris knows a great deal about music production, mixing and mastering. He has been able to offer good advice recently as I setup my home studio and move toward posting some of my arrangements on YouTube. I highly recommend Chris for all serious guitar students out there. Get practicing! – James A.

Chris is a great teacher. He is very down to earth with a great positive attitude. I never feel rushed or pressured if I don’t understand or “get something ” right away. I’m starting at zero beginner level, he is very patient with his teaching. He is teaching music theory as well as the correct technique. I like how he uses positive re enforcement. It’s been nothing but a pleasure working with Chris. I would highly recommend him to anyone trying to learn to play the guitar ” the right way”! – Christine W.

Chris is great to work with. He’s friendly and takes a step by step approach to help you learn how to play the guitar but also teaches you about music theory and the best practices. Absolutely love taking classes with him! – Claudia G.

I have worked with Chris for over 25 years in both live and studio environments. His mastery and dedication to the guitar are exceptional. Chris has an adept knowledge of guitar: theory, technique, recording and performance. This is only paralleled by his ability to teach them to both beginners and seasoned professionals alike. Many teachers are quick to “teach” some basics and gimmickry giving a student the impression of having learned something then wondering why they have plateaued so quickly. Chris is the real deal. His manner of instruction works to plant seeds that cannot be outgrown and get you immediately performing at a sustained level of mastery that you may not have imagined possible. – Michael E.

Master Guitar Skills with Creative Techniques

First and foremost to getting skills and improving abilities is a desire to creatively gain experience with the instrument! The stronger this desire the more involved the connection becomes. Though the Guitar has many facets, the sound and touch response is tactile. Keep your guitar close, play it, tune it, appreciate it. Fortify this relationship always. Keep alert to your goals and pursue them.

Using visualized shapes, of chords and melody lines, apply your imagination to permutations that tap into variety. Inversions are patterns of sound. Have you explored your options? Try moving certain pitches higher or lower and listen. Stoke your imagination and feed your inspiration! Play your guitar!

RHeTHoRiC FLiNTSToNe iii

Primitive Metal Pop 2024 work in progress

https://soundcloud.com/chris-de-warenne/sets/rhethoric-flintstone-iii?si=e88d75a1dfcb48b69e92a07b9cf47728&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

eLeCTRiC GuiTaR ViDeoS 100% Actualized! Now with advanced electric guitar string techniques plus exotic melody and harmony concepts, along with de positive creative Unifier, essentially a Symbiotic Relationship. Concurrently, RHeTHoRiC FLiNTSToNe iii is on a sick twist with a new music which is set to emerge as a BLueS MeTaL SHReD GuiTaR oriented kind – sometime in a HoT SuMMeR, and be goin’ DeeP iNTo The HeaRT oF 2025.

Playing with Patterns

by Chris De Warenne

Using patterns over Theory based note selection is an intuitive application.

However, in the beginning, before the Pattern approach can be of any creative use, the artist has the need for the development of the musical palette. Specifically, knowledge and practice of the intervals and essential elements, such as “The Modes”. The familiarity of the characteristics is the first goal.

This can be simplified as easily as recognizing a half step to, or fro, the tonic; the resultant flat 2nd or Major 7th/Leading Tone is one half-step away from the note you are currently focusing on, above or below. This focus will intend it to be your “Tonic”, for the moment.

To get to this perspective, knowledge of an instrument is a painstaking endeavor.

Musicianship is an ongoing process.

Scales, finger exercises and rhythmic redundancy on a daily basis is the fastest method.

Arranging by pattern entails very quick visualization using your imagination to “see” which notes are in the vicinity of where you spontaneously have your fingertips go! Yes, improvisation. Along with an established background in music theory, this combination spawns a new landscape of ideas, these motifs, through elaborating into Theme and Variations. Basically, entire works.

Muscle memory must be attained!

Practice your scales…

Next: Getting better faster and spending less time correcting bad muscle memory.

All Rights Reserved / Copyright 2024 Chris De Warenne

Numbers and Letters

by Chris De Warenne

How does Music Theory work? What’s a third? Or a fifth? Let us get to the root of this question.

Take one pitch, any pitch. Consider that pitch a “one”, or “Root”.

Get really comfortable with that idea, then think of a number line.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 = CDEFGABC

8 is the Octave, (a higher pitch) of 1.

Remember that inversions are going to add up to 9.

1 = 8, 8 = 1; 2 = 7, 7 = 2; 3 = 6, 6 = 3.

So, if you haven’t guessed it already, the “3” is the “Third”.

Now, take that and apply letters (of your choice) to it.

Keep in mind, the only letters in music are A through G.

This includes “Sharps” and “Flats”. Eg., A# is the same pitch as Bb and referred to as “Enharmonic”.

For reference, using letters, A Major is: A, B, C#, D, E, F#, G#, A.

MaJoR : 1/2 step (one fret) between 3 & 4, 7 & 8.

In the above example A is the Root, C# is the 3rd, and E is the 5th.

Remember. The choice of Alpha/Letter is entirely up to YOU. KEY OF A-G.

* A reminder, learn the notes on the fingerboard as soon as possible, it pays off bigtime!

Next up: Chords and Scales! All spelled out!!

Music Theory explains the building blocks of music as each pitch is assigned a number, with 8 being the octave of 1. Inversions add up to 9, such as 1=8, 2=7, and 3=6. The “3” is the “Third”, which when combined with letters becomes a musical note. Letters A-G, including sharps and flats, are used in music. A# is equivalent to Bb, known as “Enharmonic”. A Major consists of specific notes with defined steps between them. It is essential to learn the notes on the fingerboard early on. The next step involves learning about chords and scales.

All Rights Reserved/ Copyright 2024 Chris W.

Practice Your Guitar!

by Chris De Warenne

Lessons Learned:

Some thoughts on things to do and some wise remarks regarding the unwise.

  • Actively Avoid Time-Wasting nouns.
  • Muscle Memory is built through repetition, only.
  • Every Day, at least 5 minutes of hands-on holding your instrument.
  • If possible, place your instrument next to you while sleeping.
  • A team of 30 small children playing Classical Guitar video: Tiny Hands play Barre Chords easily.
  • Relax and tense muscle, remember to breathe!
  • Integrate Multiplicity of Hands-On Daily Practice Routines
  • Rinse and Repeat, then extrapolate.
  • Go For It!

The content discussed emphasizes the importance of efficient practice and muscle memory for musical skills. It suggests avoiding time-wasting activities and emphasizes integrating diverse practice routines within regular, hands-on practice, while maintaining a relaxed yet focused demeanor. And focuses on being persistent in your efforts to improve your skills.

ONLINE LESSONS ONLY!

Want to take your playing to the next level? Get out of a slump or break through a plateau? Beginning? Learn more scales and modes? Basic or advanced chord theory? Flash, shred, finger-tapping? Picking? Get that bluesy string bending and smooth vibrato technique? My lessons focus on helping YOU reach YOUR goals! I enjoy watching my students improve! Check for availability. ALL LESSONS ARE ONLINE ONLY. I use FaceTime video, and my preferred payment is Venmo. I look forward to having you as a student!

Ebbanoxious Guitar Lessons

Getting better faster and spending less time correcting bad muscle memory.

Practicing tedious scales, memorizing patterns and chord shapes

1 2 3*4 5 6 7*8

1 3 5

1 b3 5

1 3 +5

1b3 b5

For example,

DORIAN MODE:

2 3*4 5 6 7*8 1 (DEFGABCD)

1 2*3 4 5 6*7 8 (DEFGABCD)

C Major CDEFGABC

has a “d” ii CHORD: d f a, 1 b3 5

C Major

d minor

e minor

F Major

G Major

a minor

b diminished

That’s all the theory related to Modes… they sound different compared to the Major Scale. C Major (no sharps or flats) has the notes of D minor contained in it. It is a relative Key because both are the same key signature; however, C Major contains a “Mode” for each note that it contains. Example: Dorian, which is based on the second interval in C Major, D to D, DEFGABCD.

The difference between Relative Keys and Keys that are not Relative would be: C Major has no F#! D Major does, so it’s a NOT a Relative Key.

For reference, D Major has two sharps, D E F#G A B C#D. Must have the half steps between 3rd and 4th and the 7th and 8th.

From these various Modes also come more Patterns.

Interested in Guitar Lessons?

Email: EbbanoxiousGuitarLessons@gmail.com

All Rights Reserved. ASCAP. Chris Warren, Copyright 2024