My first job was playing instrumental acoustic guitar at the Sir Winston Churchill Pub in Montreal. I used to arrange popular tunes for nylon string guitar, my most ambitious effort was a finger style rendition of the Beatles’ Abbey Road album, which had just been released.

Anyone who has a flair for the guitar and decides to embark on a career of playing naturally aspires to be someone who sells millions of records and tours the World. Like Mark Knopffler or Eric Clapton or Santana. We’d all like to be household names. The reality, of course, is that very few achieve that level of success. Apart from being a stand out player, many factors come into the recipe, not the least of which is luck. To be at the right place at the right time is often the bottom line.

For most of us, earning a living from our instruments is a hard row to hoe. The main factor I think is to keep all options open, don’t be precious about your music and always keep a professional attitude.

There are several ways to generate money as a guitarist. I try to keep them ticking over at all times.

The most straight forward way is performing, getting paid to play your music to an audience. It’s often the most satisfying way too, especially if you’re doing your own thing, either solo, or in your own band. When all else is falling apart around you, there is usually some place to play, even if it means busking, which down here means playing in a public place. I live near a place called Byron Bay, famous for it’s surf and blues festival, where players come and stand in the street with their guitar cases open for people to throw money in. A dear friend of mine down there is in his sixties and still does it, and does well at it.

The other form of performing involves hiring yourself out as a freelance guitarist for other bands. I am presently playing in five different line ups. Two of mine, MumboGumbo and The Train; I play in David Bentley’s Blues Revue, where keyboardist David is the front man; I play with Elizabeth Lord, a country / blues band; I play with Ted Tillbrook, who has moved away for a while. Juggling dates can be difficult, but it always seems to work out. They know that my priority is my music, and if I can’t make a show, they have a couple other players they can call.

If you’re proficient enough as a player, and you have the right attitude, you can hire yourself out as a session guitarist. Times have changed and technology has done a lot of musicians out of this kind of work, but guitars (especially acoustic) still can’t be synthesized. Thank goodness.

There are a couple sub-categories here, namely commercials (TV or radio) and album tracks. Both require a certain kind of player. You must be able to cover a few different styles to do well, especially in the jingle world. Reading helps, but is not essential. You must be very professional and follow directions. Often the producer will ask you to play something you think stinks or doesn’t fit. A polite suggestion of an alternative is OK, but don’t insist. You may not be aware of what is going to be overdubbed later on, or what the singer’s part is. Punctuality and good equipment is a must. Guitars with poor intonation or amps that buzz are not appreciated when the clock is ticking.

Finally, if you get to the point where you know more about playing than most, you can become a teacher. Not the most lucrative way of earning a guitar living, but one that will allow you to lead a more normal life, get to bed earlier. A way that’s probably more consistent and reliable. I know people here who have dozens of private students and also teach regularly at schools and colleges.

If you’re that way inclined, you can do quite well as a repairer. My old pal Seymour Duncan who I knew in London in ’73 or so, was the guy who set my Strat up at Fender Sound House, where he worked as the tech. He sure went on to bigger and better things. There is a guy here in Brisbane I have yet to meet, Chris Kinman, who makes pickups that are sought after the world over. He’s doing OK.

I’d say the most important element in all the above is to maintain a professional attitude. Musicians are often seen as vague, lazy, stoned, unreliable, probably alcoholic. You’ll often be treated like someone who doesn’t really care about money, who just wants to get out of it and play music. To counter this perception, you almost have to be overly accommodating. I don’t mean grovel, but I mean be straight, punctual, civil, reliable. Make sure the money is talked about and settled early in the piece. Get it on paper.

Or you could be a chef or a stock broker…

Making a Guitar Living from MyRareGuitars.com

A group of people immediately came up and asked the guy for his autograph. I didn’t recognize him, so I assumed he was a TV actor. People are always fussing over actors I don’t recognize. (I haven’t watched TV since I was a kid, so I’m often off the grid when it comes to pop culture.)

I forgot about the guy for a couple of minutes. My mind was on a song I was writing, and I was replaying a riff over and over in my head so I’d remember it when I got home. But I couldn’t ignore the guy for long, because more and more people kept stopping for autographs. He was cheery and kind to everyone, even though they were interrupting his meal.

It’s gauche to ask for autographs in L.A., and it struck me as odd just how many people were doing it. I glanced over a couple of times, and the guy smiled at me, but I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to intrude on his space.

Halfway through lunch, I hit on a really great ending for my song. I grabbed my cell phone, planning to go into the restroom and record it before I forgot it. I stood up and accidentally dropped my phone on the famous guy. I apologized and explained that I was going to the restroom to record a song. I realized that this probably sounded weird, but the guy didn’t seem to think so. I remember exactly what he said. He looked at me and said, “Is that so?” with so much interest and friendliness that it made me grin.

I squinted at him for a few seconds, wracking my brain to figure out who the heck he was. It occurred to me then that he might be a musician instead of an actor. I rarely know what musicians look like, even if I love their music. I recently saw a DVD of Led Zeppelin for the first time, and was shocked that Robert Plant was blond and flamboyant. I’d always imagined him dark, brooding and serious, and this new image gave me a mind-spin. The same thing happened the first time I went to a Neil Young concert. I was devastated that this geek with hideous mutton chops was the force behind the most brilliant, haunting music I’ve ever heard. My romantic fantasies were crushed, but it was still the best show I’ve ever seen. Neil Young in concert is f*#*ing awesome.

Anyway, I went to the bathroom and called my home number and sang the ending of my song to my machine. I recorded it a couple of times, to make sure I got all the nuances. When I came out of the bathroom, I asked the waitress if she knew who the famous guy was, and she squealed, “George Harrison, you idiot!”

George HARRISON!!?? My heart lurched to my throat. George Harrison was my HERO!

OK, so he’s everybody’s hero, but you’ve got to understand, I’m a sitar player. The sitar is the love of my life – I love it more than my computer, more than my ’62 Telecaster, maybe even more than my orange tomcat who brings dead things into the house all the time.

Maharishi's Ashram (Rishikesh, India)

I bolted back outside with a smile splitting my face open. There were so many things to talk to him about! I spend a lot of time in Rishikesh, India, which is where the Beatles stayed when they were there. The Maharishi’s ashram is abandoned now, and totally overgrown by jungle. When I’m in India, I trek in there every day and sit on the roof of the house the Beatles built. (It’s the only house on the property. The rest of the buildings are little beehive- shaped meditation huts.) The roof overlooks the Ganges River, and I sit there and play sitar and watch the mist float across the mountains and the monkeys swing in from the jungle. It’s a magical spot – truly beyond description — and it’s easy to see how the Beatles wrote so much incredible music there.

I wondered if George had ever been to the secret caves in Rishikesh or discovered the hidden, white sand beaches down the river. I was curious whether he’d ever encountered wild elephants, and if he fed the big, jungle apes like I do.

Rane Sevin, Sitar (Kings of Jupiter)

Also, I was bursting with sitar questions to ask him. I wondered which tunings he used and if he ever installed pickups. I wondered how he dealt with the feedback problems sitars have when miked. (“Real” sitar people won’t even discuss the idea of pick-ups. Sitar is meant to be played acoustically. Playing rock and roll with electric instruments, as I do, is an apostasy.)

I even had the wild thought that I could invite George over to my house to play my new custom-made sitar. Maybe he would even sign it! That would be so unbelievably cool! Or if he didn’t want to go to my house, maybe he’d wait for me to bring my sitar back to the café.

I abandoned all pretenses and ran right up to his chair…but he was gone! I looked up and down the sidewalk, but he wasn’t there. I sprinted down the steps to check out the parking lot behind the restaurant, but again – nobody. He must have parked in front of the restaurant and driven off while I was in the bathroom.

I felt ill…literally ill! How could he have done this to me? I love his music so much, and I admire what he stood for and who he’d become.

Now that he was gone, his face retroactively snapped into recognition. The only Beatles pictures I’d ever seen were from the 60s and 70s, but now I put that young face together with the older one, and can’t imagine how I didn’t recognize him …especially with the BRITISH ACCENT and the AUTOGRAPH HOUNDS!!! The waitress was right — how STUPID could I BE???

As I drove home, I consoled myself with the thought that I still might meet him someday. Sitar players have a way of finding each other. People have introduced me to a couple of India’s giants — there was a good chance I would run into George someday.

But that never happened. Sadly, he died a few months later. I’ll never get to tell him how much I loved his music. I’ll never get to thank him for bringing the sitar to the west…thank him for changing my life. I had the chance, and I was too polite to grab it.

Lesson learned. If I ever run into Neil Young, I’m gonna tackle him first and make apologies later.

Post by: Rane Sevin

My Lunch with George Harrison from MyRareGuitars.com