I have a guitar at home – it almost never leaves my apartment – on which I’ve written every song of mine for the last… 20 years? I don’t remember ever changing the strings. When it comes to writing songs, it’s like an extension of me.
The guitar is a mass-produced Washburn that I bought about 30 years ago. No one else would call it anything special but, as most of you probably know, musical instruments take on a life of their own over time, especially to the person who plays it.
They get broken in. All the player’s blood, sweat, and tears (especially the sweat) become part of it. Like a person, over time the pieces of wood and string start to develop character. They may start out almost the same, but after 30 years of playing even assembly-line guitars become individual.
Occasionally I’d think, ‘What would I do if something happened to this guitar?’ Years ago I did partially break the headpiece, but that was an easy repair.
As I’m sure you could see coming, recently I carelessly leaned the guitar against my table (something I’d done thousands of times) while I was scribbling down a lyric and… BAM! The instrument hit the ground hard… and the headpiece broke off completely. My guitar was in two pieces.
I spent a few days in mourning. It would be inaccurate and melodramatic to say that I wondered if I’d ever write songs again. But it’s accurate to say that I wondered how I’d write songs again. I’d written those hundreds of songs not alone, but with that guitar.
On the other hand, as a person who can be resistant to change (I didn’t even want new strings), I’ve learned that sometimes things happen that force me to move in new directions and more often than not the resulting change turns out to be a good thing. New guitar, new songs… who knows?
Although it seemed hopeless, pointless, I took the guitar to Matt Brewster at ‘30th St. Guitars’ in Manhattan (which is actually on West 27th St. now). Matt’s done some excellent work for me and for friends and I thought it was worth it to at least give a good doctor a look at the x-ray, if only to officially tell me to pull the plug.
When I pulled out the two-piece guitar, I expected Matt to recoil in horror. Instead he didn’t bat an eye. ‘No problem. When I’m done it’ll be better than than ever.’ He said it confidently, but not cockily, and with enthusiasm. This is what he does.
It was my turn to recoil a bit. Not in horror but in shock. I walk in convinced the case is terminal, and he tells me that in a week or two the patient will be better than ever?
Though I still had my doubts – was this really possible? – not only did I have nothing to lose (and his rates are reasonable), now I also had real hope, because I know Matt is a pro and not a bullshitter
(You don’t have much future as a top professional in NYC’s music/arts/entertainment business if you can’t deliver. Too much competition.)
To cut to the chase, a week or two later I walked into ’30th St. Guitars’ and Matt handed me a guitar that looked beautiful and played perfectly. Same one! New strings, yes… but the intonation was excellent and it truly did play better than ever. You’d have to look at the headpiece very closely to tell there was any work done. And you certainly would never know it had spent almost a month in two pieces.
So yeah… I’m writing on my guitar again. I feel like I have the best of both worlds. It’s like new… but it’s old. I got lucky this time; I’m now being much more careful with this instrument. It may not be worth a lot of money, but its value to me is high.
I’ve even gotten used to the new strings. I like them.
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