My video: The Complete Ukulele Course is now on YouTube. It’s a one-hour tutorial that I shot twenty-five years ago.
Nowadays short-form video is king. Everyone with something to say or show, from knitters to naturalists and accountants to astronauts, is now also a video producer. But, in 2001, when I created The Complete Ukulele Course, the idea of making a video was a big step to take in a very different world.
The constellation of coins in my ukulele case seemed to be telling me that the stars were not aligned in my favour. I felt I had completely wasted my time by choosing a gloomy day to busk at Vancouver’s Granville Island. But one couple, who had been outside braving the drizzle, approached me and asked if I’d be interested in teaching and performing at a one-day ukulele festival in Seattle’s well-known folk music shop, Dusty Strings. I was delighted to be asked and ultimately agreed to teach a 2-hour ukulele workshop as well as performing a solo spot in the evening concert.
Partly what gave me the confidence to take this on was that Rob Friedman, the proprietor of Vancouver’s much-missed Not Just Another Music Shop, had already been encouraging me to make a ukulele teaching video. He knew a guy called Mike Gilette who had both a video studio and experience in producing guitar tuition videos. All I had to do was create the content and present it. But the whole concept seemed beyond my reach: Me? Make a video? No way. But now, with the Dusty Strings workshop in the bag, the more Rob kept on about it the more I found myself thinking, “….but if I did make a video, what would that be like?”
A title popped into my mind: The Complete Ukulele Course and, with that, I began mentally creating the content for both the video and workshop. The title was never meant to sound like the hyperbolic pronouncement it probably seemed. I considered it “complete” to the extent that I planned to include the entirety of my complete knowledge about playing the ukulele. (The title was also a nod to the earliest known How-to book: The Compleat Angler by Izaak Walton, published, in 1653, in the wake of the English civil war).
Having booked a shooting date with Mike I set to work on the content. Once I’d put all the teaching moments in order, starting from tuning the strings and how to strum, eventually ending with the Formby split-stroke and a basic chord melody for English Country Garden, I rehearsed the whole thing over and over. Looking back, I now realise I was treating the video recording as if it were a live performance. I decided not to break it into bite-size, editable pieces. I chose instead to present the whole thing in one long, unbroken stretch. The idea of making mistakes – that might need editing out – was not a concern. I did the whole hour of teaching, more or less perfectly, in a single take.
The studio was only a 5-minute drive from my apartment so I arrived wearing the clothes that I’d wear for filming but then discovered I had the wrong address. It was a hot day and, with no mobile phone, I walked around looking for the studio trying hard not to break into a sweat.
I found Mike’s studio in the next block. He already had his camera and microphone set up so I got myself ready and off we went. A few minutes in I messed up by flubbing a line and so, thanks to my preordained plan of doing it all flawlessly, Mike rewound the video and I started again from the beginning. This was a ludicrously precarious way to make an hour-long film. Mike didn’t have much to do except look through the viewfinder while I went through my spiel. However, as I chatted and demonstrated my way through all the playing techniques Mike was becoming increasingly agitated. He was aware, unlike me, that we were swiftly approaching the 1-hour mark and that his video tape would soon come to a sudden stop.
It was Mike’s turn to sweat. He nervously shifted in his seat as the seconds ticked closer to 1-hour. Eventually, having finally said my closing comments and ‘Goodbye’, the tape counter showed only 90 seconds of tape remaining. I’d had no idea we were so close, Mike pressed the Stop button and almost cried with relief. as he rocked back in his chair and took off his glasses.
I was delighted with my video and the next day, still sailing on a tide of exuberance – and with no graphic design experience whatsoever – I set about designing the VHS box cover on my computer, using Microsoft Word: not a program that real designers would ever use for such a task. My graphics turned out blockier than a block shaped picture of a box of blocks. But I thought it would be fine because, you know, “You don’t judge a book by the cover” – right?
Wrong. I met my first customer downtown and pulled out the tape to show her. Her face fell the instant she laid eyes on my design work. In that moment I learned that appearances DO matter. I wouldn’t sell many of these unless I got my pal Stuart Gibbins (designer of my King of the Ukulele CD) to create a professional and inviting design for me.
I had 200 video tapes copied and got a printer to print Stuart’s lovely new box covers and cassette labels. I put these together and was delighted, not just with how they looked, but more so with the feeling of potential they represented: my creations would soon be going out – who knows where in the world – to be seen by who knows who. I kept going back for another look at my big box of videos. I went to sleep and woke up in the night with a hankering for one more peek at my creations. I went downstairs and opened the box to remove a video. Once more I read the text on the back, down to where it said, “…and develop right-hand techniques such as the syncopated “split stroke” as used by George Fromby.”
Fromby? FROMBY!!! We’d spelled Formby wrong. Oh good grief. After dozens of proof-reads, by both myself and Stuart, a pretty major typo had still managed to get through. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE THERE IS ONLY 1 PAGE?!!!
Needless to say, I was vexed.
By the next day however, I had talked myself into thinking that few, if anyone, would notice the typo since we ourselves had passed over it so many times. So, I put the video for sale online, with a nice photo and description. The first customer I shipped to was in Washington State and he responded with an email,
“Loved the video…etc. but do you know you’ve spelled Formby wrong?”
I got all 200 covers reprinted.
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Several months later, and much like a tap being turned off, VHS videos suddenly stopped selling. I got the video converted to DVD and went on to record more titles: The Complete Ukulele Course for Kids, Essential Strums for the Ukulele and Ukulele Playalong. A few years later the flow of DVD sales also turned off as they too became an anachronism.
Unless some cataclysmic event destroys the internet as we know it, it is pretty clear that DVDs (and VHS) won’t be making a comeback. Therefore, I have uploaded these 3 titles to my YouTube channel:
Essential Strums for the Ukulele
Ukulele Playalong with Ralph Shaw
For a while they were more successful than I imagined possible. I was selling them online and also shipping them by the boxload to Hawaii and to major stores in the USA (such as Borders, one of many successful businesses brought to their knees by a rapidly changing world).
With the sudden rise of knowledge-sharing on YouTube, the demise of DVDs was heartbreakingly swift. Since then it has been truly amazing to see video production go from being a niche and specialised skill to becoming a vital tool for anyone, from any background, needing to draw attention to themselves, their story or business. And now, with AI in the picture, the speed of progress is only getting faster. Quite frankly I find the whole thing quite hair-raising.
To those of you who already own one of my titles I thank you and hope it was helpful. For anyone watching these for the first time I offer them now as a reminder of a slower time when ukulele was still becoming a “thing” and my videos were one of the few ways you could learn how to play the ukulele.
Keep Strumming and Smiling,
Ralph