It's not.
This one's for my guitar.
20 years ago, in a time before mobile phones (but somewhat after the dinosaurs), I lived in a trailer near the beach, in a country that isn't the one i'm in right now, but might be the one you're in, if you reside in New Zealand. And I was obsessed with music. Namely, Van Halen music. But also, Led Zeppelin, Queen, The Stones, Def Leppard, Judas Priest. Also Hip Hop, and Roxy Music, and Duran Duran, and The Human League, and even Bauhaus music. This was before house music, before Britpop. Back when R&B meant Rhythm and Blues, and was played by fat black guys with coke habits, instead of warbled by skinny divas with...well...coke habits. It was a time when if you wanted to listen to music, you put a cassette into the ghetto blaster, a record on the turntable, went to a show, or damn well played it yourself. THERE WAS NO SUCH THING AS AN IPOD, and Apple computers were BLACK AND WHITE. One meg of Ram was like Star Wars or something.
This is a Mac Classic. It sucked.
But you know, I digress.
My trailer was covered up the walls and on the ceiling with pictures of Eddie Van Halen, and the guitars he made and played. I used to look at those axes and think "Holy fuck! How exactly do you make something like that?" He was this amazing guitarist who made his own guitars. Fast forward, and hey, whaddya know? I'm that guy.
Eddie Van Halen
For a long time, my guitars glared silently at me from behind the sofa, or in the corner. I got side tracked again. And for a while there, I thought I was over ever picking one up again...for good. But recently I did, and it feels pretty cool to have done so.
Now I'm not saying it would have been a tragedy for the world if I hadn't started playing again. In the scheme of things, it rates absolutely no importance whatsoever. No one really gives a crap. It's just me.
But this one is about the relationship I forgotten I had, with a piece of wood, with some metal on it.
I have had hundreds of guitars in my life. All kinds. I loved them all. Some I loved so much I bought them in every available colour because I couldn't decide. I've lost some, had some stolen, sold a few, destroyed a lot, and even given a few away. I've recycled some, and built some from scratch, three of which I own to this day (and are quite valuable).
My first was a nylon string acoustic my amazing Mother used to play, back when she still believed in herself as a creative human being. It was a Suzuki, and it played well for what it was. I'm stoops heavy into flamenco, so I loved the way it sounded. My Mum had to save up to buy it, and she had it for a long time before giving it to me. I learned how to play basic guitar on it, and then rode down a hill on it, killing it forever. I wonder where the fuck it is now? Underground in some landfill or something? I almost feel sorry for it. I am a bad person.
Then it was time to go electric. We had NO MONEY EVER, so when Mum bought me a $100 pawnshop semi-acoustic jazz piece of shit with a bigsby style tremolo on it, it was a huge deal, and I had to pay it back. I broke 56,000 strings on it trying to do Floyd Rose style whammy licks on it, it was awesome. And I blew a lot of old stereo speakers cranking them up and overdriving them to certain death, because an actual amp was out of the question. I know kids now who have MESA stacks worth $12,000 sitting in their bedrooms that they never play through, and some rad Gibson guitar or something, and they don't give a rats, because they're rich. And I guess I'm old, but I think that's sad.
Good times, anyway.
And the hot neighbourhood girls would come over and listen to me play, and I never got any ass out of it because I wanted to stay a virgin til I got married. So my friends fucked them instead. Looking back I think I missed out on some serious goodtimes, but you know, that's hindsight, right? Music was all that mattered. It was the best. And I joined a bazillion bands that never played one gig, but knew such-and-such who was gonna tee up some intense and amazing deal that would never eventuate, and none of it ever mattered, because WE WERE IN A BAND. I remember this band that were all seniors in High School when we were juniors, they were so amazingly cool. They were huge on Creem and Zeppelin. They eventually went off and recorded in a real recording studio in capital city, and the rest of us were all like "Oooh!" and "Aah!" and shit, because studios cost $100 an hour even then, and it was in capital city where all the hot girls lived. Wow. Before I moved to Australia I was in a band who's manager ran the same studio, and we could not only record in there for free anytime, but it was basically our lounge room. And not one of us gave one-billionth of a crap, because music is a hard mistress, and she had worn us all down so hard over the years, like the drugs and the heartbreaks did. Life 101.
I've listened to a lot of music since those days, and I have to confess, I just about never care about bands any more. I'm over it. I've been all over the world, I have toured with every big name act you have ever heard of (pretty much), I have lived the VIP life behind laminates, and velvet ropes, and hefty security, and it's all just shit. I have worked so many tours, and stood at the side of the stage and thought "I can do that. why aren't I up there?", especially when I could do it way better. I just got over it, especially the 'business' part of the music business. Knifey doesn't do "schmooze". Just ask my band mates. Luckily, they think it's endearing somehow. Talk about landing on your feet.
The only bands I have been excited about in the last few years are Underoath, Killswitch Engage, and Owls.
So here I am, old, and jaded/cynical, and I'm back on the road with an absolute monster of a band. This last week has been a blur of rehearsals, studio sessions, more rehearsal, and a show. And my guitar is back in my hands again.
This guitar is my baby. It's an Epiphone Firebird, with a Seymour Duncan 'Invader' pickup in the bridge position. Apart from that, no mods. Normally I rip my neck pickups out, but this one has survived. I have played the two biggest shows of my life with them (broadcast to 18 million, and 3.5 million people respectively), and even though I love Explorers more than Firebirds (and I own 3 explorers), the 'bird always seems to get the gig.
An Epiphone Firebird...not my one though
I bought her on impulse on the road with (insert band name here), when I was making thousands of dollars a week, and couldn't spend it fast enough. I bought it, took it to the accomodation, decided I hated it, and didn't touch it again for 3 years.
Like I sad, this last week has been intense musically, and it's about to get way more intense, because if you've been paying attention, you'll know I'm taking her to Canada and America with me in a little over a week.
When I got to the studio the other night, it was to do guitars for a Konqistador song that has already been otherwise completed, so it was just Jim the (awesome and lovely) sound engineer, and I. I had to wait by myself for quite a while as he tracked down archived sounds, so I was all alone in a strange studio. But my guitar was there. I hadn't played in a studio for 2 or 3 years, and I'll admit I was actually really nervous. For you non-musicians, when you play in a studio, every minute movement you make is amplified as if it's under a microscope, and it can be very off putting, to hear yourself that clearly for the first time (in some cases). So I played her, and bent her strings, and threw down some licks, and got a little braver, and went for some more intesnse technical stuff (which the song to be recorded is full of), and then just let it all go and shredded the shit out of it for half an hour.
She was there for me...just like she had been on the big gigs in the past, and on the road, and a thousand other places, back when I was a guitar player.
This probably comes off as weird, I'm sure it does. But (some musicians) just really love their instruments, and now I've spent some time with her again, and she hasn't let me down, I actually miss her, and am looking forward to pulling her out of her roadcase (in the bowels of Revolver in Prahran), and getting re-acquainted. No matter where Konqistador may take me, I know that when I've strapped her on, and I can feel that timber under my fingers again, I'll be home. I've been in so many strange and new places, but when your main axe is in your lap, it wouldn't matter if you were in a coal mine or on top of a mountain- it's familiar.
That isn't to say I won't probably end up smashing her over the drum kit at a show sometime, but that's just me. I'm only sentimental to a point.
But for now, it's nice to be back on 6 strings again.
This is knifey, from 'the internet'.
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