I took off for two weeks in a row. I know I said I might not do Christmas but last week despite so much happening that I’ll have enough to talk about for the next month I decided I’d take that week off too. (My English teachers in high school used to praise me for my ability to string along a long sentence that was in fact grammatically correct. I was the poster child for sentence variety. How terribly sad.) I justified this extended vacation from my 3 regulars by saying that during the holidays the radio station wouldn’t report for 3 weeks, therefore the e-mail I sent out that this blog is in someways attempting to emulate would be a ghost for 3 weeks as well. In that regard you got lucky that I’m here this week.
Where to begin. First I feel the need to mention that Collis’s girlfriend (who’s name escapes me at the moment and will no doubt be entered into this location once someone tells me just what it is.) requested that I make mention of her in my blog once she found out I had one. She specifically wanted me to mention how she thought the girl on one of the posters advertising some brand of beer was hot. There may or may not have been more blatant terminology used but I’d rather error on the side of caution than put words in her mouth that were not as vulgar as my addled little brain remembers. The interesting point of the evening was when we compared war stories regarding therapy and psychopharmacology as a sort of parody of that scene from Lethal Weapon 3 where Mel Gibson and Rene Russo’s characters are comparing scars, only in a slightly more unsettling manner. Sadly I lost this match… I’m not entirely sure it’s the sort of thing you’d want to be sad about actually but it’s the way the phrase turns.
I went to the two largest music stores I’ve ever been to in regards to music instruments since we last spoke. Playing a guitar in store especially when you haven’t done it in a long time is a bit nerve racking. You tell yourself, “Ok I’m going to play some Wolfrmother, Beatles, Johnny Cash, intro to Stairway, etc.” but it doesn’t work out like that. I get there and I ask the guy if you can plug a couple guitars in and he ever so politely asks what sort of amp you have so that you can approximate the sound you’ll end up with in your home so rather than testing it out on some tiny little 15 watter I’m plugged into a 60-watt Fender for everyone to hear. The sounds of about 3 other shoppers playing significantly better than I’m likely to ever become echoes though your head just as the feedback begins to build in the amp. Suddenly the mind that was full of a dozen songs is pelting out the only song that came to mind over and over again. This is how I ruled out the ESP Viper series of guitars.
I’m going to put it back on the wall in favor of one of the ESP series guitars when the ever so useful salesman asked me what I thought of the Viper. I’m taken by surprise. How do I express my dislike. “I just wasn’t feeling it.” This is not a lie, I genuinely didn’t like the feel of it, It felt odd for some reason. So when he asks me what I didn’t like about it I’m confused. What the fuck am I supposed to say. I don’t remember enough from my golden days of guitar to express my dislike of the guitar in a way that will allow this guy to help me pick a better one. After some conversation that I forgot the second I uttered it he points me to an ESP EC-1000. It’s got a 1000 in it, it’s clearly top of the line. I start playing it and realize two things, not only does it look the same as my Epiphone Les Paul (shape, not color or finish) but it feels almost exactly the same. It sounds better but that’s nothing a set of pickups can’t fix. I conclude that I’m not about to spend $800 on a guitar that feels the same and is only a few pickups away from what I’m currently playing. So I quietly leave the store.
On my way to the Guitar Center I begin to resign myself to the possibility that I nailed perfection the first time I select a guitar. Once I arrive there I notice they do not have the Gibson SG Menace in stock. Rather than ask the dude and feel pressure to buy it sight unseen I decide I’ll just pick up the closest SG I can find which happens to be the Faded SG Special. I remember thinking “This feels good, let’s plug it in.” so of course I do and all of a sudden I’m in heaven. I remember why I wanted another guitar in the first place. The action is a little high but that’s nothing I can’t adjust myself in 5 minutes at home.
I spend the better part of the week ruminating on the guitar and how much I loved it. I completely understand all SG love all of a sudden. It’s such a fabulous instrument. The thin body really lets you get all up and personal with your strings and I love that partly because it is so unlike my Les Paul which is thick enough and heavy enough to be used as a blunt object to defend myself if the need should arise. Not to disrespect the Les Paul, it’s still a fabulous guitar but it’s lonely and needs a sibling to keep it company while I’m away. I’m still unsure if I simply love this guitar or if it all SG s play feel this awesome but the accommodating folks at the closest Guitar Center have made an arrangement with me whereby I will buy the Faded SG Special and once the SG Menace arrives if I should like it better they’ll accept an exchange for the full cost of the Special. It’s amazing the things people will do when you’re about to spent upwards of $600 at their store.
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