Diary of a Player Read Online Free

Australia. And our very different paths led us to the same small city, our li’l hillbilly mecca. As two modern country guitar heroes who frequently collaborate, I am always asked who would win in an all-out duel between the two of us. The answer is obvious: the audience.
    I am in awe of Keith’s talent; his style and chops are so unique. I think he has more natural ability than anyone I have ever met. He is truly inspiring to watch.
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    I truly believe Brad is from another planet—not sure where, but he is otherworldly gifted. His dexterity, fluidity,and precision are extraordinary—and in addition to these shaving techniques, he’s also not a bad guitar player. Just for the record, Brad has
never
actually asked me to start a band, and frankly that hurts!
    â€”KEITH URBAN

    T here are artists in music who are some equivalent of Super-man or Supergirl. Born stars. I’m a fan of a lot of these artists. People who would be popular and famous almost no matter what they did. Born that way. So absolutely destined for popularity that anyone could see their trajectory. I have never felt like one of those.
    I am more like Batman. Flawed, human, lacking that superpower that guarantees a career as a superhero. I’ll explain. I have talent as a guitar player, for sure . . . but it is not what I would count as considerable or extraordinary. I am better than I probably ought to be, honestly. But I have had to work very, very hard to get to whatever level player I am. And the same would go as a singer or songwriter. I don’t think I’ve everbeen what you would call awful, but at the core, I truly feel like I would be at best mediocre if not for ingenuity and sweat. Extreme sweat.
    While some people can spit out hit songs like bullets to the chart, or sing like birds as effortlessly as breathing, or take to an instrument like Rain Man to blackjack, that’s not me. And I’m not someone who walks into a room and changes the energy, or the life of any party (without being the musical guest). Even the guitar took me years to get proficient enough to enjoy at all, let alone impress anyone else. Then there’s singing. Singing is something that accompanies songwriting and playing for me, and while I take it very seriously, my style is not meant to shock or awe. It is meant to convey emotion. And songwriting is something I have sculpted like clay. Thanks to Chris DuBois, the pal I have bounced almost every completed or half-finished fragment idea off of, I feel like I figured out something people want to listen to. But all of these have been a process. And some artists seem to find or write the right songs effortlessly and then ascend to the top of the music world like the space shuttle blasting into orbit, people on a rendezvous with destiny. Meanwhile, I have always felt like an underdog that way, honestly. I’m this weird combination of funny guy/sensitive balladeer who no one knew quitewhat to make of for a while there. I would see another artist put out a song and fly right by just as my engines were starting to warm up. And then I would have to think my way out of the pigeonhole I was headed into. Whether by making some fancy video to get folks’ attention or performing a song that’s shocking, impactful, or unique, I feel I have reached superstar status the hard way. It has definitely not been easy. No Kryptonian birthright, no radioactive spider bite. That’s right, I’m Batman. I’ve always liked his story best anyway. He worked for his share of the comic-book universe. I can appreciate that.

    W herever you come from, some truths remain the same. And here’s one: all new guitar players desperately want to start out playing “Layla” or “Stairway to Heaven” or “Eruption” right away. We all want to run before we can walk. For most of us, when