- Six Strings -
(Red House - Jimi Hendrix)
My father's guitar is a sacred thing to most of his loved ones. Perhaps more than anything else, his Martin Dreadnought was synonymous with who he was, and when he passed on, his children were fortunate enough to receive it. As the child with the most history holding a guitar - a whopping year, way back in 2000 - I was entrusted directly with its care and feeding. Part of that, as I've mused frequently, involved learning to play it.
By my own standards, I'm a novitiate. I'm not sure I'll ever be capable of thinking of myself as anything else. That said, there are a few pleasant sounds I can coax from it now and then, and those moments tend to be utterly captivating for me. It's one of the most unbelievably pleasant, thought-consuming sensations I've ever had the fortune to experience.
Now, as any guitar enthusiast will tell you, one guitar is never, ever enough. While it's true that you can use modern equipment to make just about any guitar sound whatever way you want, there are still a few defining differences that ultimately set instruments apart. Many people have stipulated that all guitar players need to have at least four guitars in their stable:
- A Stratocaster or similar S-Type guitar with single-coil pick-ups
- A Les Paul or similar LP-Type guitar with humbucking pick-ups
- A hollow or semi-hollow guitar
- An acoustic guitar
I'm fortunate enough that I had three of those requirements nailed down already prior to last week, and my wife was kind enough to take care of the last of the categories, a Semi-Hollow, last weekend.
Yesterday afternoon, I had the good fortune to celebrate the birthdays of several very good men over at my friend's house. A fellow guitar enthusiast was going to be there and I thought that it would be an excellent time to show off my new Gretsch Streamliner.
Over to my friend's house I went, my guitar and amp in tow. After far too much food and a few hours of extremely pleasant conversation with good friends, I took the opportunity to show the Gretsch to my friend Mark. Now, Mark's every bit the enthusiast I am, and before we knew it, we found ourselves mostly alone in the front room of the house where we were playing. Many of the other guests had migrated to my friend's back patio. Said patio was covered this evening with a pavilion canopy that sheltered several comfortable chairs. We discussed it briefly and then made the decision to move our playing out there so that we could socialize as well. And that's when the magic started.
Mark and I took turns passing the Gretsch back and forth, producing anything from rambling finger-picking to actual instrumental song-playing. Above us, mother nature decided that it was time to drizzle a little, but our host immediately draped an umbrella over my amp and we moved the chairs safely under the cover of the canopy to keep the guitar dry. That's how we passed the next several hours: sitting under a canopy on a surprisingly cool summer evening, well-fed and watered, surrounded by friends and music. Everyone drifted in and out of the porch at some time or another to listen or to sing along, and it was just about the closest thing to perfect that I've been a part of in a very long time.
Music might be the only force on Earth that I've seen draw people like sunlight does.
Now, while all of this was going on, some of my friends very politely informed me that I had a rather curious habit of spacing off while I played. I would be in the middle of a sentence and then, between one word and the next, I'd simply stop talking while I worked through a series of chords and strings. I had no idea this was going on until I looked up from what I was playing and noticed several grinning faces looking back at me. Apparently, someone had taken a picture of me while I was completely spaced out. I suppose it's a good thing that I don't play while I drive.
There are worse fates, I suppose. I tend to dislike candid photos of myself on account of my nearly always looking like a complete jackass in them. I almost look like I know what I'm doing here though, so ... I'll allow it.
My father's guitar is a sacred thing to most of his loved ones. Perhaps more than anything else, his Martin Dreadnought was synonymous with who he was, and when he passed on, his children were fortunate enough to receive it. As the child with the most history holding a guitar - a whopping year, way back in 2000 - I was entrusted directly with its care and feeding. Part of that, as I've mused frequently, involved learning to play it.
By my own standards, I'm a novitiate. I'm not sure I'll ever be capable of thinking of myself as anything else. That said, there are a few pleasant sounds I can coax from it now and then, and those moments tend to be utterly captivating for me. It's one of the most unbelievably pleasant, thought-consuming sensations I've ever had the fortune to experience.
Now, as any guitar enthusiast will tell you, one guitar is never, ever enough. While it's true that you can use modern equipment to make just about any guitar sound whatever way you want, there are still a few defining differences that ultimately set instruments apart. Many people have stipulated that all guitar players need to have at least four guitars in their stable:
- A Stratocaster or similar S-Type guitar with single-coil pick-ups
- A Les Paul or similar LP-Type guitar with humbucking pick-ups
- A hollow or semi-hollow guitar
- An acoustic guitar
I'm fortunate enough that I had three of those requirements nailed down already prior to last week, and my wife was kind enough to take care of the last of the categories, a Semi-Hollow, last weekend.
Yesterday afternoon, I had the good fortune to celebrate the birthdays of several very good men over at my friend's house. A fellow guitar enthusiast was going to be there and I thought that it would be an excellent time to show off my new Gretsch Streamliner.
Over to my friend's house I went, my guitar and amp in tow. After far too much food and a few hours of extremely pleasant conversation with good friends, I took the opportunity to show the Gretsch to my friend Mark. Now, Mark's every bit the enthusiast I am, and before we knew it, we found ourselves mostly alone in the front room of the house where we were playing. Many of the other guests had migrated to my friend's back patio. Said patio was covered this evening with a pavilion canopy that sheltered several comfortable chairs. We discussed it briefly and then made the decision to move our playing out there so that we could socialize as well. And that's when the magic started.
Mark and I took turns passing the Gretsch back and forth, producing anything from rambling finger-picking to actual instrumental song-playing. Above us, mother nature decided that it was time to drizzle a little, but our host immediately draped an umbrella over my amp and we moved the chairs safely under the cover of the canopy to keep the guitar dry. That's how we passed the next several hours: sitting under a canopy on a surprisingly cool summer evening, well-fed and watered, surrounded by friends and music. Everyone drifted in and out of the porch at some time or another to listen or to sing along, and it was just about the closest thing to perfect that I've been a part of in a very long time.
Music might be the only force on Earth that I've seen draw people like sunlight does.
Now, while all of this was going on, some of my friends very politely informed me that I had a rather curious habit of spacing off while I played. I would be in the middle of a sentence and then, between one word and the next, I'd simply stop talking while I worked through a series of chords and strings. I had no idea this was going on until I looked up from what I was playing and noticed several grinning faces looking back at me. Apparently, someone had taken a picture of me while I was completely spaced out. I suppose it's a good thing that I don't play while I drive.
There are worse fates, I suppose. I tend to dislike candid photos of myself on account of my nearly always looking like a complete jackass in them. I almost look like I know what I'm doing here though, so ... I'll allow it.
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