It’s been a long time since I’ve really played much guitar. I’m not a guitar player; I know how, in a rudementary way, and I own two guitars (though inexplicably I almost always seem to have at least three hanging around, not to mention someone’s mixing board, a couple mikes, and sometimes an amp — […]
It’s been a long time since I’ve really played much guitar. I’m not a guitar player; I know how, in a rudementary way, and I own two guitars (though inexplicably I almost always seem to have at least three hanging around, not to mention someone’s mixing board, a couple mikes, and sometimes an amp — I know a lotta musicians).
But I don’t really play. I’ll pick up a friend’s axe to check it out, like when Chris, my main man, brings over his latest aquistion, and strum out a few chords. Like with drums, I know enough to watch and listen and evaluate, to talk shop with players and keep up. I can tell what a guy’s doing when he plays something flashy. But can’t really much get though a song anymore, it’s been too long and I’m forgetting.
But I love guitars. The sound of them, the look, the feel of one in my hands. It feels right when I strap on a guitar. Chris’ new telecaster felt like an old friend when I slung it on. I didn’t even have it plugged in, I just wanted to feel it.
Suddenly, I’m thinking, I need a guitar.
My acoustic is actually a really nice guitar. I’ve had friends borrow it to record, since it’s got a nice tone and is very playable. I’m happy with it, and so are the people who regularly pick it up to play when we get jam parties going. But my electric is pretty much a piece of crap. It’s an ugly white strat copy with a sort of explorer-looking head, cheap pickups, and the world’s worst tremolo bridge that’s going to need replacing if the things ever going to be worth playing. But you know, it doesn’t matter, I don’t play.
I should play though. I don’t know why I don’t. It doesn’t matter if I’m good. But I should be playing.
Then I found this thing:
Epiphone Flamekat. Go ahead, click it, it gets bigger.
You know, I usually can resist this shit. But — fuck, look at the inlays. Look at the knobs. How fucking cool is this guitar?
I know. I don’t need a guitar. I have a guitar. I have two. But… Dammit. I want it. I want to put a hook on my wall and display it.
I want…
I want to play guitar again. Looking at this stupid thing, I want to plug in and hack out social distortion songs. Story Of My Life.
Santa? I know, what I did to you wasn’t fair. But really, I’ve been a good boy. Maybe you could…
Nevermind. That’s a lie. I’ve not been a good boy at all this year. But this isn’t a good boy’s guitar, now, is it?
I think I’m gonna be sticking with my shitty Fender Squire for a few more years. Gina’s still getting over the sticker shock of the new tattoo.