September 14, 2011
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The Daily News
1 I name my guitars. A lot of guitar players do. Keith Richards does. So does Chuck Berry, who may very well have started it all with Maybelline.
2 All of my guitars have exited the garage and are now taking up room in the house. It's okay because there is room. So it's fun, because a lot of them have been sitting in cases like old skeletons, not being touched. They have the dusts of ancient cultures protecting them, and now they are back inside, daring me to blow off the dust and seek the most precious treasures on Earth.
3 I have a lot of old-school hard-shell cases, which operate as sort of sarcophagi for old guitars.
4 It is said that guitars get better with age. So do old rockers.
5 Well then, that's a nice thing. Here's what awaits: I have Black Peter, for example. He's a sort of metal-body banjo-sounding thing I haven't played in around two years. Cool cat, lookin' for a kitty. Gonna search in every corner of the city. Total banjo/dobro pure metal guitar. Heavy as hell, but with a really fun, country-twang sound. Nashville Cats stuff. Grateful Deady Freddy stuff. Black Peter, named after the immortal song about a guy "layin' in my bed, dyin'." Lyrics by Robert Hunter.
6 I've got ol' Scratch, the Yamaha FG-200 that many of you saw over the years. I had Scratch when we did our first Godspell my first year at YB. I call the guy Scratch because he was my first really sweet-sounding guitar, and I used to take him everywhere he could get knocked around. Ocean promontories were his main bag, but anywhere with a sharp corner or a maniacal party also gave in to new knicks and claw marks.
7 He was my companion in college. I got him for $15 a month from some hippy-owned guitar store. The day I walked into the guitar store, I was just buzzing from Siddhartha and waterfalls. I used to like going in to old guitar shops and noodling. Especially when you are young and in college, and seeking Absolute Truth.
8 This one day I saw Scratch. He was expensive even back then, and looked more like a young beauty than an old ass-scratcher. Anyway, I had played a few out-of tune twangy things when I saw the guy over in the corner of the store. Trust me, there are some dull-sounding guitars hanging on a lot of loud walls.
9 The day I picked up Scratch though, was the day that I sat down and instantly felt that I had locked in with all Secrets in the Universe. I began strumming. I think the song was Gettin' in Tune by the Who. At the time it sounded better than the original artists, and certainly brought music to the very stars.
10 The memory lapses, but that's a song I often play when I pick up a brand new guitar. It's a fitting song.
11 The entire store seemed to be in a pure rainbow bubble. The music coming out of that guitar made me shiver, and it was good. Metaphors mixed. I turned into the Star Child looking down with thumb in mouth, a floating, spiritual embryo on a birth ride through the Universe.
12 Some hippy dude in the store came over, because he could see I was absolutely in a Zen moment. Glassy eyed, staring into the dazzling eyes of Absolute Truth.
13 He didn't push me. He asked if I liked the guitar, which was obviously leading the Witness. I was in the middle of a religious experience, and this guy glowed in a robe and sandals.
14 I knew instantly that I wasn't going to be able to afford the two-hundred fifty bones that was the asking price. But the guy could see that the guitar knocked me out. He asked if I would care to rent it for fifteen bucks.
15 I looked up and smiled. I told him I had no credit and he said, "No prob dude. You could rent it for fifteen a month until it's paid, and then you own it. No down, no interest." My eyes widened, because I don't know that I ever had a material thing that wonderfully spiritual in my entire life.
16 At the time I was a poor, starving college student, but I did somehow manage to muster fifteen. Within minutes, I was out the door with a brand new guitar and hard case. I went home and must have played for six hours. Life would never again be the same. Scratch had a subtle percussive feel with multi-tones. I could play The Other One acoustically with my finger tips and hands. Notes fell like gentle rain.
17 I wound up taking Scratch everywhere: to the mountains, to the lakes, to the coast, to every conceivable party where people liked to sing. To YB for Godspell. For every Godspell, and for every time we would do a show with Godspell tunes. And even into my present classroom, The Café Verona, aka The Cathedral, high atop the Chill-on-the Hill. We've been everywhere, man.
18 Right now Scratch sits in my home office tuned to a five-string G-blues tuning. He has a capo clamped to the headstock, the very tiptop of a guitar, and a steel slide hanging on the capo, good pals, good compadres. I just played No Expectations on him two days ago, along with a country move on Twist and Shout. To me it sounded like heaven once more. To the layman, it probably sounded like a cat with his paw in a mousetrap. New chords, newer tunes, ballads changing into strange sounds. I daydreamed and still played.
19 It has been fun looking around at all the other dusty cases. I am feeling a bit like a Pharaoh in the anteroom of a pyramid. As I open each guitar I get giddy, because they are all in excellent condition, quite well-preserved AND playable. I haven't opened Black Peter yet, but when I have time, I'm going to.
20 I also have Annabel, named after Annabel Lee. Here's her bit: After Scratch started getting cut by sea rocks, spoons, shells, kazoos, and anything else I could use for a pick over the years, he began to look a bit tattered. Kind of like ol' Keith Richards. Great, if you ask me, because I could still take him anywhere, often without the case. He just keeps playing beautifully as long as I keep him in sweet Martin strings, and as long as I avoid the eleventh fret on the high E string. It kind of twangs out, but it sort of makes me smile.
21 Annabel is the reincarnation and spiritual sister to ol' Scratch. She's not quite as tonal, and not quite as amazing sounding, but she is brunette, and she's really pretty. I always play her a bit more gently, sort of a ballad deal. She's my main squeeze when it comes to guitars, and she's a lover. Sweet stuff, goes with all things nice.
22 I have a twelve-string that usually becomes an eleven-string because of one of the tuning keys that seems to need pliers. Some unkown brand, but with a bright sound, and really fun to play open Byrds-style Roger McGuinn stuff. California Dreamin', as full-bodied and bright as they come.
23 I never named that guitar. It was a replacement from my original twelve that some maniac student slammed into a wall and crunched in a fit of rockstar idiocy. It was actually a trade-up, even though at the time I came to realize that there are some students who are completely psycho.
24 And I have Cheyenne, given to me by the Class of '05 in front of the an entire banquet of clubs and classes. I had recently purchased this cool Ovation for $75 at the Flea Market, one of the best deals I ever had. I named it Cheyenne because it had this sort of Native American look and feel to it.
25 Unfortunately I never got a case for it. I left it leaning against the stage, and it got accidentally knocked over. The neck broke off, and I was a little upset, but more at myself for leaving it so vulnerable. I had no real buy-in on that one, but it was one of those deals that didn't cost much anyway, so I sort of blew it off. I hadn't made any sort of connection with it.
26 At this banquet,the immortal Maggie Pham got on the mic and asked me to come down, and not to look. I thought I was going to get some huge painting of myself or something. I stood in abject fear. She told me not to look, and finally to turn and open my eyes. She held this gorgeous burgundy Ovation in front of me. I stood dumbfounded. A lot of applause, and one great moment in the life of a teacher.
27 I named that one Cheyenne 2, but eventually decided that it was truly a reincarnation of Cheyenne 1, so it is now Cheyenne. I originally wanted to call it Shy Ann, but decided that I liked the more native-American feel to the entire thing. Cheenne also is a hollow-body electric, so I get some really fun sounds out of her. I haven't played her in around three years, but she awaits patiently in a case built for her. I rest assured that she is purely preserved.
28 They're all inside. They're waiting amps, mics, polish, new strings, and picks. And despite all I've said about being overworked, I'm actually reasonably caught up, at least enough that I might be able to play with notes and silence, and with the mysterious silence between the notes.
29 Nexus. Bach knew: it isn't the notes that make the music; it is the silence between the notes.
30 If music be the food of love, play on.
31 I fully intend to do that.
32 Just thought I'd share, a litte music on a mild and mellow night.
33 And looking out, it looks to be a beautiful day.
34 I will pick up my guitar and play.
35 Just like yesterday.
36 You have a good one.
37 Peace.
~H~
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