The Captain's 10 Guitar Commandments

Captain Beefheart's music was beyond avant garde. Several miles beyond avant garde, it seemed, and out of range for my tastes (what would you expect of a high school classmate of Frank Zappa?). But critics consider his cacophonous 1969 album "Trout Mask Replica" a landmark work (No. 58 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 greatest albums) and lots of rock musicians cite him as an influence.

Don Van Vliet (the captain's legal name) died of multiple sclerosis last week in California, almost three decades after he had given up the music business in favor of painting. But long ago he issued his 10 commandments for guitarists, which are about what you'd expect from someone who came up with song titles like "Big Black Baby Shoe" and "Ice Cream for Crow."

• LISTEN TO THE BIRDS: That's where all the music comes from. Birds know everything about how it should sound and where that sound should come from. And watch hummingbirds. They fly really fast but a lot of times they aren't going anywhere. (Dogs know a lot about music, too. I can make the howl.)

• YOUR GUITAR IS NOT REALLY YOUR GUITAR: Your guitar is a divining rod. Use it to find spirits in the other world and bring them over. A guitar is also a fishing rod. If you're good, you'll land a big one. (The guitar also can be used as a frying pan to cook any fish you might catch.)

• PRACTICE IN FRONT OF A BUSH: Wait until the moon is out, then go outside, eat a multi-grained bread and play your guitar to a bush. If the bush doesn't shake, eat another piece of bread. (One night I went through a loaf of whole wheat, two baguettes and a substantial stack of that flat Indian bread. Damn bush just sat there.)

• WALK WITH THE DEVIL: Old Delta blues players referred to guitar amplifiers as the "devil box." And they were right. You have to be an equal opportunity employer in terms of who you're bringing over from the other side. Electricity attracts devils and demons. Other instruments attract other spirits. An acoustic guitar attracts Casper. A mandolin attracts Wendy. But an electric guitar attracts Beelzebub. (My playing attracts mostly flies.)

• IF YOU'RE GUILTY OF THINKING, YOU'RE OUT: If your brain is part of the process, you're missing it. You should play like a drowning man, struggling to reach shore. If you can trap that feeling, then you have something that is fur bearing. (This drowning man technique sounds like something I can handle.)

• NEVER POINT YOUR GUITAR AT ANYONE: Your instrument has more clout than lightning. Just hit a big chord then run outside to hear it. But make sure you are not standing in an open field. (When guitars are outlawed, only outlaws will have guitars.)

• ALWAYS CARRY A CHURCH KEY: That's your key-man clause. Like One String Sam. He's one. He was a Detroit street musician who played in the fifties on a homemade instrument. His song "I Need a Hundred Dollars" is warm pie. Another key to the church is Hubert Sumlin, Howlin' Wolf's guitar player. He just stands there like the Statue of Liberty — making you want to look up her dress the whole time to see how he's doing it. (I have to ask -- what kind of pie?)

• DON'T WIPE THE SWEAT OFF YOUR INSTRUMENT: You need that stink on there. Then you have to get that stink onto your music. (Stinking music -- this one is within my reach.)

• KEEP YOUR GUITAR IN A DARK PLACE: When you're not playing your guitar, cover it and keep it in a dark place. If you don't play your guitar for more than a day, be sure you put a saucer of water in with it. (Absolutely; I'll put a fifth of Patron, lemons and salt in there if it'll help me play better.)

• YOU GOTTA HAVE A HOOD FOR YOUR ENGINE: Keep that hat on. A hat is a pressure cooker. If you have a roof on your house, the hot air can't escape. Even a lima bean has to have a piece of wet paper around it to make it grow. (Yes, on hats. The bigger the better.)