On Buying A Guitar

Guitar shopping has begun once again, tentatively but who am I kidding? As always, it is preceded by that sense of "yearning" and guitarlust. If only you had one more guitar, my mind tells me. Standard disclaimer, I have nothing to do with this mind. I am just obeying the orders.

So what will it be this time? (See how quickly one goes from mere lust to consummation?)

Like a magician and his wand, guitars have to come to you. They arrive first in your memory via sounds and mysterious associations. Then they arrive in your arms, where you make their acquaintance for the second time. The pleasure (or the disappointment) is nothing less than visceral.

So many questions. Should it be a Fender or a Gibson? And like buying wine, what year will it be? A '55 or a '68? Or will it be something prosaic, a 2004 or 2005? Should I spend a thousand dollars or five hundred? A sun-burst or a satin finish? Tremolo arm or none? Oh, the technicalities.

Often times, we already love the guitar and the sound and simply need a technical reason. It's why musical instruments come with spec-sheets. The left brain and the right brain both have to be pleased.

Then starts a round of frantic browsing, checking the classifieds (how did anyone buy anything before the Internet?), walking into music stores and hearing a distinct thump-thump as I walk by that Gibson Les Paul (only three thousand dollars, thank you), caressing the sides of a Marshall, oh, man, rock and roll.

Here's the beautiful thing: even now when I plug in, I get the goose-bumps. When the amp shows signs of life, that riff is still how one invokes the Gods. But before they appear, you must feel your blood just chill. I even start believing in all those rock and roll cliches. You know, "with one pure note, the world can be blown to bits".

But first, that pure note calls for a pure guitar. And that is where I am. Looking for purity in a horribly impure world. Oh, the woes of an amateur guitarist.

To be continued.