Lovin’ the hell out of my baritone Ukulele
Several years ago my good friend Laura stumbled across someone who was looking to get rid of a baritone ukulele and asked her if she knew anybody who would like it. Knowing her, she instantly got that sparkle in her eye and thought of me. It’s been an enjoyable little toy that I’ve used intermittantly through the years.
Lately though, I’ve been playing it quite a bit, happily banging out crude approximations of early 50’s doo wop songs. I don’t know if it’s because of the audition debacle, or the fact that I’m not in any real band right now, but I’ve just haven’t been “feeling” the bass lately.
Visually though, me playing a ukulele is comical. A giant guy with kitchen burns all up and down his forearms, all but palming this tiny little thing and mumbiling half remembered lyrics from the a’capella records that my mom and dad used to play on 60’s the fakevictorian monstrosity of a record player that my mom got for her sweet 16.
I’m not sure if this is part of my logical musical progression or a cry for help, but it is fun in a meloncholy and silly little way. Stumbling around an unfarmilliar instrument and having a laugh about it; hell, it’s healthier than most of the things I’ve done.